Original subtitles

MAN 1: One of us should've won that shit, son.

MAN 2: All them niggas went up there as a unit.

Niggas ain't givin' Staten no respect. We building Wu-Tang from the bottom up.

- Ay-yo, who this again? - Wu-Tang Clan.

They all over the street.

Eight of them. Sound dope, right?

Can I buy one off you?

We need to a distributor.

Get into more than just the local mom and pops.

It would help if we had a label behind us.

Ay, yo! Y'all said somethin' about a Def Jam party?

Can I help y'all with somethin'?

We got somethin' for you.

MAN ON TV: Here's the Wu-Tang Clan with Protect Ya Neck.

(RAPPING ON TV) Wu-Tang Clan coming at ya

- Oh, shit! - Ooh. Can you turn that up?

You know what actually? Never mind, I'm gonna, uh... I'm gonna stay.

(LAUGHTER)

(GLASS BREAKING)

TRACEY: Out of the five boroughs of New York City,

it could be said that the Bronx is the most dangerous.

But they say pressure makes diamonds. And out of the grit and grime,

the culture we now know as hip-hop was born.

The pioneers from Kool Herc to Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,

to the Cold Crush Brothers, they all hailed from the Bronx,

the BX, the Boogie Down.

The Bronx was also home to

one of the most iconic hip-hop venues in the city, The Fever.

This is where legends like Kool Moe Dee, Busy Bee Starski, Kurtis Blow,

and Run-DMC were made.

And those who couldn't cut it on the stage,

their dreams died in the club that night.

Didn't matter if you were from Queens, Manhattan, Brooklyn, or even the Bronx.

But a crew from Staten Island? The Bastard Borough?

At The Fever?

Good luck and Godspeed.

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)

It's expensive and a pain to get three artists on a plane,

let alone eight.

Don't forget, your recording costs are guaranteed to be lower

because Bobby does all his producing.

You got the streets, but this label is bigger than that.

At best, what you have right now is a B-side.

Yo, The Symphony was a B-side.

Live at the Barbeque.

Shit, a bunch of B-sides blew artists up into superstars.

No offense, but what do you do for the group?

I'm the executive producer.

So talk as if I'm not here. But don't forget, I am.

WOMAN: Hello. Def Jam Records.

Yo, Divine. Where you steal that suit from, son?

A Forbes convention?

I think that C.E.O. title gettin' to your head, son. Word.

Yo, why'd you even come if you're just gonna talk shit all day?

WOMAN: Thank you for calling Def Jam.

Do you know your mathematics, son?

I came so there could be four of us.

Four represents culture, freedom, righteousness,

and peace, God.

- Plus, this Def Jam, nigga. - (WOMAN SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY)

Y'all really thought I was gonna let y'all come in here without me?

(SCOFFS)

Man, it's like bein' at the hip-hop hall of fame, son.

Yo, one day, they gonna paint my name right next to LL, man.

No, fuck that.

They gonna paint me on the ceilin' on some Michelangelo shit ,

- with my nuts hangin' out and everything. - BOBBY: All right, yo, yo...

- ASON: Yo, word. (LAUGHS) - Take it easy, nigga, all right?

Can I get you gentlemen anything?

Think we're good.

I will take a coffee with real and fake sugar,

cream, half and half, and a dash of honey.

Thank you.

You don't even drink coffee, man.

You should always ask for somethin'.

That way they get used to givin' you shit right off the bat.

The man's a genius.

- (CHUCKLES) - POWER: Yo, they ready for us.

- Represent, son. Word. - Of course. Of course.

(DOOR OPENS)

Whoo-hoo! So, you one of them mocha chocka-latte

moisturized gold wax melted female angels

that just be slidin' in from heaven just to tempt a brother, huh?

BOBBY: We produced a single that's gettin' mad airplay,

sales are up, our name is ringin' out in the streets more every day.

And even though we've done it all independent,

we feel like now it's time for us to sign with a label, and, uh,

you know, take over this whole game.

You know what I always say about a new song?

If it ain't gettin' my pussy wet,

then it ain't workin'.

TRACEY: Seein' the looks on their faces when I say somethin' like that,

that's the highlight of my day.

Guys could talk that sex shit all day,

but if those words come out of a female's mouth,

these niggas in here stutterin' like they being questioned by the police.

Word?

So, may we ask...

Protect Ya Neck got me wet.

But what if it's a one hit wonder? I mean, it doesn't even have a hook.

A bunch of songs that don't have hooks that have been mad successful.

Bohemian Rhapsody, Losing Our Religion, Hey Jude.

Can you even write a hook?

Of course I can, but that's not the point.

- What's the point then? - Look.

Wu-Tang has a different energy. You dig?

Have you guys ever performed live as a group?

I mean, how does eight people on stage even work?

Speakin' of performances,

we don't even know what the other members look like.

POWER: So come see us then.

At the Fever this weekend.

You performin' at the Fever?

- POWER: Yep. - Today or tomorrow?

- Tomorrow. - Today couldn't work.

So, yeah, yeah, tomorrow.

Tomorrow then. What time?

- Early. - Late.

Okay.

We're still tryin' to figure out the details, so...

Okay. I'll be there tomorrow.

- Okay. - All right, cool. Thank you for your time.

- Mm-hmm. Great. Yeah. Good. - BOBBY: Cool.

TRACEY: No one just books the Fever.

I got signed acts I'm still trying to get on that stage.

Bein' one of the few female A-and-Rs in the game,

I'm used to these niggas tryin' to serve me up bullshit on a cone,

expectin' me to take a bite with a smile.

I didn't get to Def Jam by puttin' up with any of that.

With all due respect, yo, but what the fuck, man?

Yeah, we don't have no damn slot at the Fever.

I was getting tired of everybody talkin' about

your lack of live performance, so I stepped up.

You stepped in somethin', I'll give you that.

- Whatchu talkin' about, son? - (INDISTINCT ARGUING)

Yo, this nigga Power told 'em that we is performin' at the Fever.

Tomorrow, yo.

- Ooh. - POWER: Listen, listen, listen, a'ight?

I'ma handle it, a'ight? We will have a spot at the Fever.

A'ight? Trust. That's my word.

Well, I guess I'll go and get the fellas together for a rehearsal or some shit.

while you gonna pull a rabbit out your ass, nigga.

Yeah, nigga. 'Cause hustlin' is magic, nigga.

I'ma catch y'all later.

I'll go back to the labels and make sure that they come to the show.

You know, this could be our one shot, know what I mean?

Yeah, it's lookin' like it.

Yeah.

All right.

Bam! Look at the digits I got, nigga. (CHUCKLES)

Yeah.

It's the main number of the Def Jam.

Uh...

At least it ain't fake, know what I'm sayin'?

BOBBY: Hey, Dirty.

Don't tell anybody about the Fever

until we know for sure that we got it. All right?

I ain't gonna tell nobody nothin'.

Yo, that's what's wrong with negros now, son.

Always accusin' motherfuckers and shit.

Yo, that's why we can't get along, son, 'cause you remember that.

(BABY COOING)

(SHURRIE SIGHS)

Thank you for lettin' me nap in there. Like...

Girl, you need a break.

Why don't you go for a walk or somethin'? I can watch the baby.

No, it's okay.

What are you makin'?

Oh, my God.

I didn't know you had skills like that.

Yeah, my mama taught me. I hated it.

Didn't think it was very empowering, learnin' how to sew, you know?

But I was wrong.

Makin' something from beginning to end is very powerful.

Yeah. Yeah, I get that.

That's kinda how I felt when I helped the boys the other day.

I was making all these calls to the radio station.

- Yeah, girl, I heard about that. - Yeah.

See, I ain't the only one with mad skills.

Yeah, thanks.

But nothin' since then.

Like, Dennis doesn't even invite me to the studio.

You don't need permission for shit, okay? Them fools better recognize.

(PHONE RINGING)

Oh, get that. Get that. Hurry up. Go, go, go, go, go.

Hello.

What are you talkin' about?

Who is it?

Yeah, hold on, hold on.

Is Wu-Tang performing at the Fever tomorrow?

Girl, the Fever? (CHUCKLES)

- Right. - The Fever?

BOBBY: Where the fuck you hear that?

- (MUMBLES) - (MUSIC PLAYING ON RECORD)

Oh, shit.

- MAN 1: Cool. Thanks, man. - Wu-Tang at the Fever tomorrow night.

- Yo. - Yo.

You want it kept a secret, why you tell me?

Hey, what's up, girl?

Come on, you know you wanna see me at the Fever.

Yeah, see you get chased the hell up outta there.

Yeah, right. Nobody chasing me nowhere. You know that.

- MAN 2: Got stabbed four different times. - Pow!

- All of 'em at the Fever. - Damn, yo!

All at the Fever?

Hope you bring a army with you. Bronx ain't no joke.

Hey, the Wu-Tang Clan is an army.

- You comin'? - Hell yeah.

Hell yeah. See you there, right?

BOBBY: Ay-yo, Dirty, let's hit it.

All right.

Four times.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

(MUSIC PLAYING ON RECORD)

Excuse me, are you the owner of the Fever?

I am.

May I?

Look, if I can have a moment of your time?

I represent a group called the Wu-Tang Clan.

Yeah, I've heard of them.

- You have? - Yeah.

People keep calling askin' if they're gonna be performin' this weekend.

That's actually kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.

You got some balls trying to force my hand.

What am I, some kinda asshole?

Look, we just wanna play at the venue. All right? So how can we make that happen?

You get in line like everybody else.

It's gotta be tomorrow night.

- (SCOFFS) Tomorrow night? - Yeah.

First off, we're booked. We been booked.

Second, fuck off.

(CHUCKLES)

Ay, yo, finally.

Hey, it's Saturday, not "Take Forever Day", nigga.

Let me get a number three on the hero.

Yo, and cut the tomatoes sideways and thin, all right?

And the pickles too, cut 'em in three pieces.

Ay, yo, spread my shit out evenly.

I don't like when I take a bite and all the shit fall off the back.

Ay-yo, wash the blade first, nigga.

Y'all supposed to be Muslim in here.

All I smell is mad pork.

When you finish the sandwich, cut it up into eight pieces, all right?

And wash your hands, nigga. With soap this time.

MAN: Yo, Stapleton.

Ay, yo, what up? You got a problem here?

Yo, that shit y'all Wu-Tang did was fire, bro.

- (SIGHS) Word, word. - Yo, what's the word? Everything good?

Hell yeah, everything good.

Make sure you kill tonight at the Fever too. You heard?

- Who you talkin' to, nigga? Come on, man. - A'ight.

ASON: Yeah.

Son, that's... I thought he was about to be static.

- Know what I mean? - Nigga, me too. Shit.

He was just showin' Wu some love though.

Hey, you know what?

I think I robbed that nigga last year.

- (LAUGHS) - Yo, son.

Yo, this Wu sound done squashed the Stapleton-Park Hill beef.

Ay-yo, when it come to this hip-hop shit, it's Gattin' Staten versus the world, B.

Hell yeah.

You know how many dope groups played at the Fever, son?

- Grandmaster Flash, Run-DMC, KRS-One. - Mm.

The Fat Boys, Whodini.

Word. The Fever got history. Yo, what's the word, God?

Ay-yo, what up, what up, what up?

MAN: Yo, peace, peace.

(MUSIC PLAYING ON RECORD)

- Yo. You ready for rehearsal? - Nigga, is you ready for rehearsal?

You know who you're talking to.

- MAN 1: Y'all kill that shit tonight. - Yo.

- Appreciate y'all. - ASON: Y'all coming tonight, right?

WOMAN: Hell yeah.

ASON: Crack-ass boombox.

- BOBBY: Yo, what's up? - Whoo!

Yo, Bobby. What up, God?

- BOBBY: Ay-yo-yo. - Yo.

- What's good, cuz? - Peace, man.

Boom, boom.

- Ay-yo, check one, check two. - (INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Man, check all them bitches, son.

Ay-yo. Yo. I've already labeled and leveled all of these, a'ight?

This one right here is yours.

This my... Yo, why mine's gotta be the busted up, ghetto, corded one, yo?

Yo...

Come on, son. Just wildin', yo.

Ay-yo, check one, check two.

Ay-yo, sound guy, turn this up, man.

Yo. Check one, check two.

Four score and seven years ago,

a motherfucker went and did some shit,

went and got that motherfucker fucked up, yo. Amen.

Yeah. Sounds ill. Perfect.

Word.

Yo, when we get started, turn his shit back down to two.

Can't have him blowin' up the mic.

ASON: Peace, guy.

Hey, peace. Yo, Bobby.

All right, so, uh, all the executives confirmed that they're comin'.

But that means that we can't mess this up. So, where the hell is everyone?

Hey, relax. They're not even late yet.

ASON: Fuck it, yo. Ay, yo, hold on, man.

Ay, yo, check one.

MEMBER: Su!

Okay. You're right. You're right. You're right.

BOBBY: All right. ASON: Teeing up.

- It's the God, bro. - It's the God.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Ay-yo, what's that Chuck E Cheese, God? Son, you know I need need parts of that.

MAN: Man. Look at this shit right here.

- Come on, son. You know I need this. - Ay-yo, sound good!

Come on, man. I sound good right now, God.

BOBBY: Ay-yo, yo.

When everybody else gets here, I'mma go over the set list,

then we gotta rehearse the hell out of this shit.

We got less than an hour, so we gotta, uh, really be on top of it. A'ight?

MAN 1: A'ight. Word. MAN 2: Word. Let's get to it then.

- (CONTINUES INDISTINCTLY) - Most important, have you talked to Power?

The show is in five hours, we don't even know if we in that motherfucker.

No, I haven't spoken to him since we last saw him.

(SIGHS)

Shit. All right. I gotta get some air. Okay?

All right.

Can we rehearse, please? Let's get started.

(MEMBERS CHATTERING)

Yo, yo, I've been paging you all day, son.

I've been on my route.

Came down here to get my shit tight.

- Yo. - What up? What up?

Anything else you need to know? You worse than my girl.

Yo, everybody's talking about how y'all playing down at the Fever tonight.

Congratulations.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah.

My name's gonna be on that list though?

So, look, about that, right? That's not, like, official official.

Yeah. Know what I mean? I exaggerated at the Def Jam meeting.

Exaggerated, huh?

Labels is gonna be there,

so if we don't perform, we gonna look like jokes.

I need you to work that magic, yo. Come on, son.

They gotta be booked up this late.

Yeah, but your name's good in the Bronx. I know that.

My name's good in Botswana, everywhere I go.

Right, so look, I went and talked to the owner.

He won't give me no kinda play.

So I was thinkin', maybe you could help us get a little sit down with this guy.

Know what I'm sayin'? Talk it out. I know you got that. Come on.

- I might could make some phone calls. - Word?

- Yeah. - Appreciate you, B. Appreciate you.

Yo, try not to do any more exaggerating for awhile, all right?

I got you. Nice cut, though.

I know. He's the best, this guy.

Yo, for cryin' out loud my style is wild, So book me...

- We have Deck. He has the first verse. - (MEMBERS CHATTERING)

I'm thinkin' he comes out first.

And then, uh...

Yo, chill...

(CHUCKLING) Oh, man. That's what I'm talkin' about, man.

They ain't ready for all that.

Come on, Bobby, let's get started. Come on!

A'ight.

Yo, everybody, bring it in.

Why we doin' sound check here anyway?

Because, nigga, there's no sound check at the Fever.

Man, I still don't get it.

This ain't the same system, this ain't the venue,

it's not like we gonna sound the same when we get there anyway.

BOBBY: Yeah, exactly, nigga.

When we walk on that stage, we ain't gonna sound how we wanna sound.

(PAGER BEEPING)

And you gotta keep on performin' even if the crowd can't hear us.

They gonna hear me regardless, son. You know what I'm sayin'?

You can't just be yellin', though. You're gonna blow your voice.

BOBBY: No, look, you gotta keep that same energy.

No matter if it's 10 people in the crowd or 10,000.

It's the Fever, it's not gonna be 10 people in the crowd.

Yo, true, true. But it might only be 10 people that fuck with us.

JAMEL: It'd be more than that.

I spoke to the Gods, they'll be there.

Peace, God.

MAN: See, Jamel got our back, and so does the nation.

BOBBY: What I'm tryin' to say is, anything can happen.

(PAGER BEEPING)

- We may get booed. - We ain't gettin' booed, son.

- If they do, I'mma see 'em. - A'ight.

I've been booed before.

But, look, we gonna win them over with our hand over the mic,

not our hand in their face.

Why y'all buggin'? We already got a hit in the streets.

So what?

When we do Protect Ya Neck,

we gotta give 'em something more than the record, son.

Shit gotta be fat.

He's right. The execs are comin' 'cause they heard our single,

and they fuck with it. And now, they wanna see us perform it.

- I don't give a damn about no execs, son. - Word.

Then, don't perform for them.

When I did Cold Chillin' shows with Biz Markie, Kane, Kool G Rap, son,

they was the audience every night. Sha, you see me. What?

SHA: Nah, okay. You talkin' your shit right now.

And with that, the set list goes...

What up, people? Me and Vine got a little gift for y'all.

- Yo, word? - BOBBY: Oh, shit.

You got it, man.

(WHOOPING)

ASON: Crazy...

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Y'all fucking with that, right?

ASON: Got the logo and everything, son.

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

BOBBY: Hey, nigga, thanks, yo.

Yo, where Meth at?

Anybody know where Meth is at?

He had to go help out Poppy's mom. He'll meet us at the Fever.

A'ight. Let's get started. Let's start rehearsin'.

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

ASON: We got the matchin' outfits, now we need the choreography.

What you talkin' about, son? Get your corny ass outta here.

Yeah, son. Gonna need some shit like this.

You tryin' to be like-- Get the fuck outta here.

The set list goes, Protect Ya Neck...

Oh, yeah.

Then we got Method Man,

and we're gonna close with Can It Be All So Simple.

MAN 1: Whoo! (LAUGHING)

Oh, shit.

Ay-yo, ay-yo, we closin' the set?

Yeah, you two. Together.

We just recorded that record.

The Streets of Shaolin ain't even heard that record yet.

Nobody knows the song, God.

Yeah. Look, after tonight, everybody will.

MAN 2: Tell me, Bobby. Are you scared...

Yo, you good, D?

Yeah, no doubt, son.

BOBBY: A'ight. Then, go and rehearse them verses.

Yo, uh, play that shit, Protect Ya Neck.

Play my shit, son.

BOBBY: Yo, play that shit.

(WHOOPING)

A'ight.

(RAPPING) Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang...

(CHILDREN CHATTER)

Ay-yo, yo, yo. What's goin' on? I thought we had 40 more minutes.

Class got moved. I've been pagin' you. Sorry.

MAN 3: Yo...

(CHILDREN WHISPERING)

(MUSIC PLAYING ON RECORD)

Mook? Please, have a seat.

Thanks for meetin' with us.

Sure. When a man of your reputation calls, I always pick up the phone.

I appreciate that.

That said, I'd love to help you out.

But, all due respect, my place ain't the Apollo.

You can't just get up on stage.

It's the Fever. Legends perform there.

We know that.

Do you?

You know, I may look how I look, but that doesn't mean I don't know music.

I love this shit.

I'm the one who brought Kurtis Blow here first.

Sugarhill Gang. Afrika Bambaataa. Me.

You get on my stage, and your career could be made in an instant.

I feel you.

I can't possibly let a group I never even heard of

get on my stage tonight.

You took this meeting based on my reputation, hmm?

And I'm not about to put that on the line or waste your valuable time

if this group wasn't for real.

Previous overtures notwithstanding.

(SCOFFS)

Okay. Let's talk hypothetical.

What if I can cram you in right before the headliner?

- Fine by us. - POWER: A'ight.

It's too late to change the flyer,

so crowd ain't gonna know who you guys are.

People will be yellin' for the headliner, then you guys will come on.

Like I said, fine by us.

Can you put us on the marquee?

You know what, Mook? I'm really not sure this is the right fit.

Forgive my colleague.

(STUTTERS) But understand his enthusiasm.

We've been negotiating with all the labels.

And when our first album comes out,

a huge release party is gonna be thrown by said label.

Do you understand how much money these people can drop?

I think the Fever would be a the perfect place for that party.

Don't you?

Hmm. Okay, you got yourself a show.

Do you need help?

I got it. You just enjoy your night off.

(SIGHS) I can't believe this is my first night out since the baby.

Oh. Dennis know you're comin'?

No, and neither does Bobby.

Because the last time I checked, they don't own me or the Fever.

(CHUCKLES) Damn, girl. Excuse me.

Besides, Dennis would worry.

I've actually never been to the Bronx before.

Never? Oh, you're gonna get one hell of an introduction tonight.

(SIGHS) I know, I know. Everybody talks about how wild the Fever gets.

Yeah.

But at this point, I'd rather get blood on my dress from a knife fight

- than baby spit-up. - (GROANS)

Let's be real too. We've given blood, sweat, and tears for the music.

Preach.

Even if we don't rap or sing.

I don't know about that one

'cause I've been known to carry a note or two.

Okay. I'm just sayin', though. It's our moment as much as theirs.

And look, I know we look cute as hell, but it is the Fever, so...

How we gonna jump the line?

Divine had a bunch of different ones just layin' on the table.

- So, tonight, I am... -"LeeAnn Canley of Capitol Records?"

And you're my associate.

Do I get an expense account?

Ask your man.

Ask my man.

TRACEY: These guys actually booked the Fever.

Gotta give 'em credit. I mean, if they end up being garbage,

maybe I'll hire them for our bookin' department.

(OUTTA HERE PLAYING)

Back in the days I knew rap would never die

I used to listen to Awesome-two on WHBI

I used to hear all kind of rap groups

Before sampling loops Rappers wore bell-bottom Lee suits

Me and Kenny couldn't afford that

So we would go to the park when they was jammin' to hear rap

I used to listen till the cops broke it up

I always thought to myself "Damn, why they fucked it up?"

But nevertheless I was in love with the microphone

And it stayed that way until I left home

On the streets of New York, now I'm free

But with freedom comes big responsibility

I used to walk around driven by the force I remember how large Super Rhymes was

When he fell off I used to wonder about crews that--

It's too late to pray, nigga. You should've been practicin' more, nigga.

(LAUGHS)

TRACEY: Pressure makes diamonds, but it can also make coal.

What happens when you step onto that stage,

into that pressure cooker?

Dependin' on how that goes, I could sign you to Def Jam,

and your name will ring bells for years.

Or you could sign a whatever deal with a whoever label,

and your music might be in a bargain bin forever.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

(RAIN PATTERING)

(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

Su!

- Yo, Tan-Nine! - What up, nigga?

MAN 1: Yo, man!

WOMAN: Shaolin rolls in!

How they just gonna misspell our shit, huh?

This is mad unprofessional.

I'm here with my group.

I don't know them. Are they a bumblebee or somethin'?

WOMAN 1: Here he is!

(WOMEN SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY)

Ay-yo! Staten Island in the house?

(CHEERING)

All right.

Yo, our people gettin' wet out there, son. Come on.

Hey, I'll peep that.

The Wu-Tang Clan. They're performing tonight.

No way all eight of them are in one group?

Yeah! There is.

I'll let three in, tops.

How the hell will they perform with just three of them?

Man, next time come up with a better lie.

MOOK: Yo! This the group,

but your bouncer ain't trying to let us in.

Yeah, all right, let 'em in.

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATION)

Thank you, sir.

- MAN 1: What's wrong with this nigga? - Man, come on, man.

That's some clown shit.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Yo, we do have people outside.

Oh, hell no.

Man, you guys are fine, but the rest of Staten Island?

They can stand in line, man.

Yo, we in the show.

All right. So you can either go inside yourselves

or you can stand outside with your friends and get wet and miss your own show.

Yo, it's all good.

Damn, son.

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

(INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYING)

Come on. Park it. All right. You're good.

- Come on. Keep it moving. - SECURITY 1: Good. Next?

What is this?

Yo. I rolled out the biscuit on me, nigga.

- I can't go through this shit. - Yo, what?

Why would you bring that shit here, nigga?

It's the Fever, right?

- BOBBY: Yo. Yo. - (ALARM BEEPING)

What's up?

This nigga, Dirty, got a heater on him, bro.

- Fuck! - BOBBY: I know.

- WOMAN: You buggin' out. - What is this?

Yo, can't talent come on through?

- Got time for the metal detector. - MAN 1: Tryin' to get in.

- MAN 2: Come on, yo. - (INDISTINCT CHATTERING)

Yo! Yo, what is the hell is that, man?

SECURITY 1: Next.

It's the Wu-Tang Sword.

Man, you aren't goin' in the club with a sword.

- It's a prop, yo. - You're not going in with a sword.

- Your boss said... - Don't argue with me.

- You're not going in there with a sword. - Yo. I got this.

- Hey, you don't touch me. - Give me the sword, man!

I got this.

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

MAN 1: Yo, what the fuck is a Wu-Tang?

MAN 2: Yo, yo, we gotta go. Here, right here.

Hey, Mel... (CONTINUES INDISTINCTLY)

(CROWD CHATTERS INDISTINCTLY)

(UPBEAT SONG PLAYING)

Yo, where the fuck the execs at, yo?

I don't know. They supposed to be here by now.

Yo, hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up. No, no, no, no, no.

These are taken, man.

Are you niggas VIP? No? Then get the fuck outta here.

POWER: Yo, they better show up, man.

BOBBY: Ay, yo! Yo.

Security still ain't lettin' in any of our Staten Island people, yo.

- Yo, word. - I'm on it.

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATION)

(UPBEAT MUSIC PLAYING)

Shit, nigga.

The fuck outta here.

BOBBY: Oh, shit.

Fuck these fake-ass dancin'-ass niggas.

Told y'all. Matching outfits. Thinkin' they won't believe me though.

MAN: Yo, the record execs still ain't even here, son.

From how we do slam a few

Then you want to purchase a dialogue of funk

You love to pop it in your trunk

I win, more disciplined than the Shaolin monk

Pete Rock and C. L., well set to spark it

The powerful target...

Hey, Nia. Come on, come on.

Hey, baby.

What's wrong?

Nothin', nothin'.

Everything is great.

- (SIGHS) - Okay.

Um, well, I'm gonna let you do your thing. I just wanted give this to you real quick.

What is it?

- Open it. - Okay, I am.

- Gotta say, you lookin' beautiful. - Mm-hmm.

Wow, you made it for us?

You know why I made a flag?

'Cause a flag represents an army.

No matter where you are, if you're in hostile territory,

just know that you always got an army standing with you.

(BOTH MOAN)

MAN: Yo! What's up, y'all? Give it up!

You know, uh, thanks for getting us a spot tonight.

(MAN CONTINUES INDISTINCTLY)

And, uh, I heard about what you did with the gun.

And not to mention gettin' all our Staten Island people in.

Ain't no thang.

No, no. It is.

I want you to be the group's manager.

Me and Power are the doing the exec thing and we need someone like you.

You know, if you're interested.

(MAN CONTINUES INDISTINCTLY)

(CHUCKLES)

All right.

DENNIS: Brothers passin' away, I gotta make wakes

Receivin' all types of...

Receivin' all...

Damn, son.

Receivin' all types of...

(MUFFLED VOICES)

(HEART BEATING)

(CROWD BOOING)

Damn, they're gettin' rowdy out there, son.

Them boys guys got soaked.

MAN 1: He's soaking wet.

Yo. Yo! You guys are on now.

No. No, no, no, no. No, no, they're not. The executives, they ain't here yet.

Yo, D, they're waitin'.

DIVINE: I hear that. Okay, look,

all we gotta do is stall 'em. Right, Bobby?

We gotta figure out a way to stall 'em.

Fuck the execs. Why don't we just do this?

No, no, no, no, no. Okay, everyone just relax...

ASON: Hey, yo, yo, yo! Hey, yo!

MAN 1: He shouldn't be up there like that. MAN 2: Oh, shit!

- ASON: Shut the fuck up, y'all. - (CROWD BOOING)

Yo, you looking at the original man. Asiatic Black man.

And when God be looking at you dead in yo' face,

you should be open to his pearls of wisdom.

When He's singing the truth right at your monkey ass.

MAN IN CROWD: Fuck you talking about, man?

Shut the fuck up, yo!

Fuck is wrong with you, man?

Yo, something else too, man.

All the boroughs be ready to fight and kill each other

over who's the best, who rep the hardest and shit like that.

But, yo, who made them subway map lines making them boroughs in the first place?

(CROWD AGREEING)

The same motherfuckers who made up them lines in the Middle East.

I don't care if you're a Black man, Chinaman, or a whatever the fuck man.

If you're here,

it's 'cause a white man brought you over here on a motherfucking boat.

You know what I'm sayin'?

(INDISTINCT CHATTER, SHOUT)

Yo, so if you wanna kill me?

Yo, try me.

(CROWD GASPING)

Why don't we all go kill them white boat-owning motherfuckers,

- you know what I'm saying? - (CHEERING)

POWER: Yo, what the hell is he saying?

He's goin' full on Huey Newton.

That's quite an intro.

ASON: Yo.

(CROWD CHEERING)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Why don't we all go kill a white boat-owning motherfuckers,

you know what I'm sayin'?

(CHEERING)

(MOUTHING) Shut the fuck up! Just...

Yo, yo. Yo, hold up, hold up, hold up.

So, the point I'm making is,

I don't care if you're Black, brown, yellow...

- MAN IN CROWD: True that. Straight up. - Red or white!

(LAUGHTER)

ASON: Yo, our individual fingers form a fist, you what I'm sayin'?

- WOMAN IN CROWD: Yeah. That's right! - We're more powerful together.

So I need everybody to put their motherfucking fist in the air

and help me welcome on stage the lyrical assassins,

Wu-Tang Clan!

(CHEERING)

Wu-Tang!

(CROWD CHEERING, CLAPPING)

What's the word?

Yeah, dog.

(RAPPING) Wu-Tang Clan comin' at ya

Best protect ya neck, kid

The first to set it off, the Inspectah Deck!

I smoke on the mic like "Smokin' Joe" Frazier

The hell-raiser, raisin' hell with the flavor

Terrorize the jam like troops in Pakistan

Swingin' through your town like your neighborhood Spider-Man

So uh, tick-tock and keep tickin'

While I get ya flippin' off the shit I'm kickin'

The Lone Ranger, code red, danger

Deep in the dark with the art to rip charts apart

The vandal, too hot to handle

You battle, you're sayin' "Goodbye" like Tevin Campbell

Roughneck, Inspectah Deck's on the set

The Rebel, I make more noise than heavy metal

The way I make the crowd go wild Sit back, relax, won't smile

Rae got it goin on, pal, call me the rap assassinator

Rhymes rugged and built like Schwarzenegger

And I'ma get mad deep like a threat

Blow up your project then take all your assets

'Cause I came to shake the frame in half

With the thoughts that bomb shit like math

So if you wanna try to flip, go flip on the next man

'Cause I grab the clip and hit you with 16 shots and more I got

Goin' to war with the meltin' pot, akh

It's the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth

Movin' on your left, aah!

And set it off, get it off, let it off like a gat

I wanna break full, cock me back

Small change, they puttin' shame in the game

I take aim and blow that nigga out the frame

And like fame, my style'll live forever

Niggas crossin' over, but they don't know no better

But I do, true, can I get a "su"

Enough respect due to the one-six-ooh

I mean O, yo check out the flow

Like the Hudson or PCP when I'm dustin'

Niggas off, because I'm hot like sauce

The smoke from the lyrical...

TRACEY: Definitely not coal, but not diamonds either.

Stars. This eight-man group is a bunch of motherfucking stars.

(RAPPING CONTINUES) To my crew with the "su"

Yeah, yeah, yeah

Watch your step, kid, watch your step, kid

C'mon, baby baby, c'mon

Yo, you best protect ya neck

First things first, man, you're fucking with the worst

I'll be stickin' pins in your head like a fucking nurse

I'll attack any nigga who's slack in his mack

Come fully packed with a fat rugged stack

Shame on you when you step through to

The Ol' Dirty Bastard straight from the Brooklyn Zoo

And I'll be damned if I let any man

Come to my center, you enter the winter

Straight up and down that shit is packed jam

You can't slam Don't let me get fool on him, man

The Ol' Dirty Bastard Is dirty and stinkin'

Ason Unique rollin' with the night of the creeps

Niggas be rollin' with a stash, ain't sayin' cash

Bite my style, I'll bite your motherfucking ass

For cryin' out loud my style is wild so book me

Not long is how long that this rhyme took me

Ejectin' styles from my lethal weapon

My pen that rocks from here to Oregon

Here's more again Catch it like a psycho flashback

I love gats, if rap was a gun you wouldn't bust back

I come with shit in all types of shapes and sounds

And where I lounge is my stompin' grounds

I give an order to my peeps across the water

To go and snatch up props all around the border

And get far like a shootin' star

'Cause who I are is livin' the life of Pablo Escobar

Point-blank as I kick the square biz

There it is, you're fucking with pros and there it go

Yo, chill with the feedback Black, we don't need that

It's 10 o'clock, ho, where the fuck is your seed at?

Feelin' mad hostile, wearing Aeropostale

Flowin' like Christ when I speaks the gospel

Stroll with the holy roll, then attack the globe with the buckus

Style

The ruckus, ten times ten men committin' mad sin

Turn the other cheek and I'll break your fucking chin

Slayin' boom-bangs like African drums We'll be

Comin' around the mountain when I come

Crazy flamboyant for the rap enjoyment

My clan increase like black unemployment

Yeah, another one dare, took-took a genius

To get us the fuck outta here

The Wu is too slammin' for these Cold Killin' labels

Some ain't had hits since I seen Aunt Mabel

Be doin' artists in like Cain did Abel

Now they money's gettin' stuck to the gum under the table

That's what ya get when ya misuse what I invent

Your empire falls and you lose every cent

For tryin' to blow up a scrub

Now that thought was just as bright as a 20-watt light bulb

Should've pumped it when I rocked it

Niggas so stingy they got short arms and deep pockets

This goes on in some companies

With majors, they're scared to death to pump these

First of all, who's your A&R?

A mountain climber who plays an electric guitar?

But he don't know the meanin' of dope

When he's lookin for a suit-and-tie-rap That's cleaner than a bar of soap

And I'm the dirtiest thing in sight

Matter of fact, bring out the girls, and let's have a mud fight

(CROWD CHEERING)

Y'all know what the fuck is goin' on, man!

It's Wu-Tang Clan, it's Shaolin in the fucking building, man.

SHOTGUN: Y'all know this shit, do this shit with me, you heard? A'ight.

(RAPPING) M-E-T-H-O-D...

CROWD: Man!

M-E-T-H-O-D...

CROWD: Man!

Yo, hold up, hold up.

Yo, why y'all backing up, son?

I might be the only one in this song but this is our shit.

(RAPPING) M-E-T-H-O-D...

Man!

M-E-T-H-O-D...

Man!

M-E-T-H-O-D...

Man!

M-E-T-H-O-D...

Man!

Hey, you, get off my cloud

You don't know me and you don't know my style

Who be gettin' flam when they come to a jam?

Here I am here I am, the Method Man

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, hey, the Method Man

Don't eat Skippy, Jif or Peter Pan

Peanut butter, cuz I'm not butter

In fact I snap back like a rubber

Band, I be Sam Sam-I-Am

And I don't eat green eggs and ham

Style'll hit ya, wham, then goddamn

You be like, "Oh, shit, that's the jam"

Turn it up now hear me get buck w-w-wild

I'm about to blow, light me up

Upside, downside, inside and outside

Hittin' you from every angle there's no doubt I

I am the one and only Method Man

The master of the plan, rappin' shit like Saran

Wrap, with some of this and some of that

Hold up What? I tawt I taw a putty tat

Over there, but I think he best to beware

Of the diggy dog shit right here

Yippy-yippy-yay, yippy-yah, yippy-yo

Like Deck said, "This ain't your average flow"

Comin like rah ooh ah achie kah

Tell me how ya like it so far baby paw

The poetry's in motion coast to coast and

Rub it on your skin like lotion

What's the commotion? Oh, my Lord

Another corn chopped by the Wu-Tang sword

Hey hey hey like Fat Albert

It's the Method Man, ain't no if ands about it

It's the Method

All right, y'all, go get your White Owls

Get ya Meth', get ya skins

Don't forget your 'orty And we gonna do it like this

I got fat bags of skunk

I got White Owl dub

And I'm about to go get lifted

Yes, I'm about to go get lifted

I got myself a forty

I got myself a shorty

And I'm about to go and stick it

Yes, I'm about to go and stick it, uh

M-E-T-H-O-D

Man

M-E-T-H-O-D

Man

M-E-T-H-O-D

Man

Here I am, here I am, the Method Man

(CROWD CHEERING)

MEMBER: Yeah, make some fucking noise. Hell yeah.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Ay, yo, Rie. What the hell you doin' here?

Hey, yo, check this.

If anybody touch my girl here tonight, I'm going to jail, nigga.

I promise you that.

(WOMAN SHOUTING INDISTINCTLY)

Ay, yo, fuck this shit, man. Let's go. Come on.

Yo.

(RAPPING) Started off on the island, aka Shaolin

Niggas wilin', gunshots thrown, the phone dailin'

Back in the days of 8 now, making a tape now

Rae gotta get a plate now

Ignorant and mad young, wanted to be the one

'Til I go

Blaow! Blaow! Blaow!

Felt one Yeah, my pops was a fiend since 16

Shooting that

That's that shit

In his blood stream That's the life of a grimy

Real-life crimey

And niggas know that habit's behind me

Day one, yo, growing all up in the ghetto

Now I'm a weed fiend, jetting the Palmetto

In Medina, yo, no doubt, the God got crazy clout

Pushing the big joint from down South

So if you're filthy stacked up

Better watch your back and duck

'Cause these fiends, they got it cracked up

Now my man from up north, now he got the loft

It's solid as a rock and crazy salt

No jokes, I'm not playing, get his folks

Desert Eagle his dick and put 'em em in a yoke

And to know for sure, I got reck and rip shop

I pointed a gat at his mother's knot

Yo, Rae, don't do that shit, man! Don't do that shit!

BOBBY: Yo, yo, fuck that shit.

(CONTINUES RAPPING) Dedicated to the winners and the losers

Dedicated to all Jeeps and Land Cruisers

Dedicated to the 5's, 850i's

Dedicated to niggas who do drive-bys

Dedicated to the Lexus and the AC's

Dedicated to MPV's, phat!

Nigga!

Yeah, son

Now, baby, yo

Yo!

Kickin' the fly clichés, doin' duets with Rae and A,

Happens to make my day

Though I'm tired of busting off shots, having to rock knots

Running up in spots and making shit hot

I'd rather flip shows instead of those hanging on my living room wall

My first joint and it went gold!

I want to lamp, I want to be in the shade

Plus the spotlight, getting my dick rode all night

I want to have me a phat yacht

And enough land to go and plant my own sess crops

But for now it's just a big dream

'Cause I find myself in the place where I'm last seen

My thoughts must be relaxed, be able to maintain

'Cause times is changed and life is strange

The glorious days is gone, and everybody's doing bad

Yo, mad lives is up for grabs

Brothers passing away, I gotta make wakes

Receiving all types of calls from upstate

Yo, I can't cope with the pressure

Settling for lesser

The God left lessons on my dresser

So I can bloom and blossom, find a new way

To continue to make more hits with Rae and A

Sunshine plays a major part in the daytime

Peace to mankind, ghostface carry a black nine, nigga

What up?

Hold on. Y'all know what's goin' on!

Hey! Help me out.

Do that shit! Do that shit!

Do it!

Do that shit! Do that shit! Come on!

(CHANTING) Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!

Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!

- My pussy is officially wet. - Whoo!

- Well, I'm glad to hear it. - (CHUCKLING)

(CROWD CHEERING)

(CHANTING) Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah.

(CONTINUES CHANTING)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Wu-Tang! That's what I'm talking about!

That's how you do a show, bro. You know what I'm sayin', bro?

Let's start the show.

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATION)

Ay, yo! Y'all ready for some real fucking hip-hop?

- Get the fuck off the stage! - (BOOING)

- What the fuck you say? - (GLASS BREAKING)

(CROWD BOOING)

(CHANTING) Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!

Shit.

Yo. Yo, why we runnin' from the women?

DENNIS: Su!

I'm gonna live forever!

We're like the fucking Beatles!

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

MAN: Ay, yo! Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go!

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)

TRACEY: Hip-hop? Yeah, the Bronx may have created it,

but tonight Staten Island broke the motherfucking mold.

(INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYING)