Now Rae! Now Ghost! Now Meth now Deck
On GZA, on U-God, protect ya’ neck!
To the top of the stoop! To the window and wall!
Gather round and strap up, come one, come all!
As the click-clack of gats before bullets fly,
The Clan shot in the air and lit up the sky,
So in to the streets the Clan they flew,
With guns and drugs, and a Wu-Tang Tattoo.
And then, in a twinkle, they heard on a roof,
The prancing and dancing of a man, not a hoof.
Ghostface reached for his strap and was turning around,
When down from the roof jumped a man with a bound

He was dressed in straight furs from head to foot,
And his lips were crusty with weed-ashes and a bit of soot;
A bundles of goods he had flung on his back,
And his breath billowed out with just a hint of crack.
All Wu eyes lit up as it was plain to see,
This wasn’t fat-ass Clause, it was the ghost of O.D.B.
“My brothers,” he said, between drinks of his 4o,
“Put the guns down mo’fuckers, and think of the shorties;
“No reason to blast on Christmas eve night,
“Sure we’ll kill if we have too, but sometimes that shit ain’t right;
Then RZA spoke up, and hit Ol’ Dirt in the belly,
That shook like a stripper’s ass or a bowlful of jelly.
“Homeboy is right, let’s give back to the hood,
“We’ll pass out mad turkeys, yo Meth, what’s good?
With a wink of his eye and a stomp of his Chuckas,
Meth hollered out, Bring the Mo’ fuckin ruckus!
They spoke not another word and went straight to work,
Opened each and every ghetto door with a light Christmas jerk,
And ODB laying a finger to the side his nose,
Blew out a puff of smoke and back to the roof he rose,
He sprang to his sleigh, and gave the Wu-Tang Whistle,
And away the ghost MC flew like the down of a thistle.
But the hood heard him exclaim, as he flew out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all ya’ll mo’fuckers, and to all a good-night.

Wu-taaaang Bitch!

R.I.P Ol’ Dirty Bastard.