On Tuesday, I paired the Phillies Opening Day Lineup with classic Wu-Tang lyrics. Today, I present the rest of the team. Like before, I’m not censoring the posts and if you have any complaints, please send them directly to The Wu. Now please get out your media guides and Wu Tang Manuals and enjoy…
STARTING PITCHERS
# 34 ROY HALLADAY:
“How you sound, B? You’re better off a quitter. I’m on the mound, G, and it’s a no-hitter.
And my DJ, the catcher, he’s my man.
In a way he’s the one who devised the plan.
He throws the signs, I hook up the beats with clout.
I throw the rhymes to the mic and I strike ‘em out.
So it really doesn’t matter on how you intrigue,
You can’t phuck with those in the major leagues.” –GZA/Genius “Clan in Da Front”
#33 CLIFF LEE:
“Time to knock ‘em out, cut ‘em with the glass hand
Time to shut ‘em down, I’m coming out the badland
Oscar the Grouch, kid, jumping out the trashcan
The last man that violated, got chopped with the sword
Send him a one way express ticket to see the Lord
You think we falling off, the beef’s internal
All that bullshit we going through, it don’t concern you
I’ll thermonuclear burn you, you’se a human sacrifice
Cuz I be smashing mics with the Passion of Christ” –U-God “Iron God Chamber”
#38 KYLE KENDRICK:
“Grands man divided. We still stand, conquer land One man’ll body slam Def Jam. Focus your headcam zoom in, with radio tune in
I know you’re listenin, so I keep showin and provin
Play the sideline, waitin for the right time to take mine
Street crime, nickel and dime rhyme” –Streetlife “Grid Iron Rap”
# 27 JOHN LANNAN:
“Hey you get off my cloud
Let me get raw with my southpaw style.
Mover, puffin’ on a fat blunt from Cuba
It’s the Meth-Tical jet to Cal, I’m the buddha
Monk on the hunt for machine gun foes.
I keeps you open like a slug from the shotgun punk.
Double-barrel, yeah Meth bring it to them proper.
Partner, you ain’t got no wins in me casa.” –Method Man “Method Man (Remix)
RELIEF PITCHERS
# 58 JONATHAN PAPELBON:
“Splash the worst rehearse a verse Flashdance on the universe
Televise the work, network chop til your neck hurt.
Whattup Dirt, nine diagram phoenix on your sweatshirt
Thirty-thousand went bezerk, it’s like clockwork.” –Raekwon “Diesel”
#45 CHAD DURBIN:
“I was rollin, showin my age, unshaven
rugged with my Timberland boots that paid.
I walk with a slight lean from the way that my heat.
Givin a green the shine infra-red beam
at the street traffic light recorders
Takin pictures of our corners… Phuck fame, I shoot a hole in a 50 cent piece to test my aim.
How dare you call the Gods in vain,
Not knowin’ the seriousness of this and why I came
to Earth, feet first.” –Masta Killa “One Blood Under W”
#48 PHILLIPPE AUMONT:
“My devastating hot ’97 Mentality,
Keep me on point for my four-digit salary.
Heavyweight lyric never lost one calorie.
I’m soon to be seen, on the TV screen.” –Cappadonna “’97 Mentality”
# 59 ANTONIO BASTARDO:
“I two hundred hot degree
Burning ya til you faint y’all
Y’all niggas shooting blanks y’all
I’m phucking my vest, drive an armored tank y’all
I dead niggas like a dog buries a bone
You could never set me up I raise the pain volume
Nominate me, as presidential MC
My career so intelligent unique physique” –Ol’ Dirty Bastard “Nigga Please”
#37 MIKE ADAMS:
“Motherfuckers halt, when my Colt, start stompin
Thunder, strikes your land with a jolt
Your stamina level is low, like currents from
the volts of relentless punishment that multiplies
At a speed that the naked eye can’t die-tect
the infantry, peep the weapon-try as I bomb atomically
Stagnant they stood surrounded and astounded
by this total square mileage of violence that I brung
I’ve not yet begun to stung.” –Masta Killa “Deadly Melody”
#47 JEREMY HORST:
“I got a hunger for the mic my appetite strike late at night
Food for thought, hold down a fort
Up in the port of riches last seen giving stitches,
Grab the cat by his gold crucifix, his team actin superstitious,
One eyein, one fakin, reachin for his iron
And one tryin to get close, I got the toast
And I’m firin, blood gushin, commotion
Still zonin off the war potion. –Dom Pachino “The Shoot Out”
#46 RAUL VALDES:
“I’ll rip mics on site you know the type
New Jack, this is my City like Wesley Snipes
Go fly a kite or somethin, make some muffins
I come up bad in the town like Charles Bronson
Nonsense you speakin’ and I’ll do you for that reason
12 is no joke I bring wreck through the seasons
Lotta men, contend, many more but just when
That Joker act you can save for Jack Nicholson” –12 O’Clock “Ol’ Dirty’s Back”
CATCHERS
#12 HUMBERTO QUINTERO:
“Got more props than the President.
My hardcore represent, blowin niggaz back who never had this.
Cause I’m gifted, so you can gift wrap
The shit I’m kickin, send it to your moms for Christmas.
And tell her Shorty Shit Stain sent it.
Soon to have more green than the Jolly Green Giant.
Cuz niggaz rap styles just down is aspired.
You shoulda stayed HOME instead of picking up a microphone.
But if you wanna run on up, like you TOUGH.
I call your bluff, and blow you down with my hardcore
stuff, I shine like twenty-four carat. –Shorty Shit Stain “Protect Ya Neck II The Zoo”
INFIELDERS
#13 FREDDY GALVIS:
“Aiyyo I roll like a bat out of hell
Evil acapell’s fly spittin’ out my grill
Before I hit the sky with springtime colors
Juicy as a Sunkist, certain broads double dutch this
They carve it in they wrist, pillsbury blazes
Straighten the crumbs left on the stove, clothes in my lady hair
Plus yours the look gold God, the old tainted bald technique
Got these vegetable lasagna niggas in they whips
Jumpin out they seats, eighteen, Bronzeman Part II
We like Dorothy Hamill on ice
We in your hood we might circle, hats down low in the Range
Switch lanes, change my tire, peel out
Real loud on the stage yo, I shitted on your hood kid
I shitted on your hood, got to your burner too late
I’m lookin’ real good, draped out
Shinin’ like a fresh fifty cent piece, your girlfriend, c’mere
Oh shit, you my man’s niece, the gourmet pocket twenty
Bombs made of clay, Sexcapades take place.” –Ghostface Killah “Older Gods”
#28 KEVIN FRANDSEN:
“Stand like Collossus, regardless to whom or what
Numerous attempts at my life, so who to trust
Who but us, to supply ya with the fire
The burning truth, 150 Absolut proof
On the mic like Moses spoke in golden scribe
Survivor of the oldest tribe whose soldiers died
I notified families, we shed tears and mourn
But our hands are on the ammo cause the battle`s still on
Sound the horn, we come rumbling through the function” –Inspectah Deck “Above The Clouds”
OUTFIELDERS
#19 LAYNCE NIX:
“You fallin down a endless tunnel of doom reality.
Graphically, my killer bee family stings the galaxy. Insanity, titanium stomach devouring Guinness.
My flesh is solid stone despite my outer appearance.
Still diseases, kill viruses, planets and racial creatures.
Made MC’s sprout tumors so bad, lost facial features.
Waste your peoples, left out in the rain, fountains of pain,
Eighty shots to the mouth and the brain, shoutin my name. –Holocaust/Warcloud “Holocaust (Silkworm)”
#16 EZEQUIEL CARRERA:
“Run on the track like Jesse Owens.
Broke the record flowin, without any knowin’.
That my wordplay run the 400 meter relay.
It’s on once I grab the baton from the DJ.
A athlete wit his iron cleat in the ground.
Wildest nigga who sprint off the gun sound.
The best time yet still 7.0.
Swift flow made the cameramen clothes blow.” –GZA/Genius “Protect Ya Neck (The Jump Off)”
DISABLED LIST #3 DELMON YOUNG:
“Cruisin’ on the interstate, just follow while I innovate
Too many try and imitate, medallion like a dinner plate
Front and get your dinner ate, chinchilla for the winter, wait
I’m tryin’ to bring the sexy back like Timbaland and Timberlake.” –Method Man “Campfire”
MANAGER CHARLIE MANUEL:
“What you intrigue, through your rap fatigue
In the MC world, is a minor league
What you speak, you swear it’s unique
It’s just a peek, physique, of an old antique
Don’t expect a project, then it’s bound to freeze
Your whole head is stuck and stiff
Next Siamese, I never liked rhymes
That’s incomplete, then again obsolete
I shall repeat, there’s an Easy Street
For niggas who earned, then learn your sojourn
Then you return, as an intelligent, positive, messanger
Not an experiment negative Lucifer
With a tingling gloss of grafted skin
Nothing like spring sauce, of the true origin
Who would score, the wizard of war
A cave man’s best friend was a god damn dinosaur
No more jungle-like living, from the Blue Lagoon
It’s not an Animal House, National Lampoon
If you understand the what when
Why how, are you fellas who exempt
Or to disallow, a fresh MC, that will knock you down
I gets dizzy spellbound like a merry-go-round
While I’m freaking, shall I expose
You take a subject, and then you decompose…” –Ol’ Dirty Bastard “Ol’ Dirty’s Back”
MASCOT PHILLIE PHANATIC:
“I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side
Staying alive was no jive
Had secondhands, Mom’s bounced on old man
So then we moved to Shaolin land
A young youth, rocking the gold tooth, ‘Lo goose
Only way I begin to G off was drug loot
And let’s start it like this son, rolling with this one and that one
Pulling out Gats for fun
But it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiend
Started smoking woolies at 16
And running up in gates, and doing hits for high stakes
Making my way on fire escapes
No question I would speed for cracks and weed
The combination made my eyes bleed” –Raekwon “C.R.E.A.M.”
GENERAL MANAGER RUBEN AMARO, JR:
“Feeling mad hostile, wearin’ Aéropostale.
Flowing 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 committing mad sin
Turn the other cheek and I’ll break your fucking chin
Slaying boom-bangs like African drums (we’ll be)
Coming around the mountain when I come
Crazy flamboyant for the rap enjoyment
My clan increase like black unemployment.” –The RZA “Protect Ya Neck”
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