Wu-Syndicate – Think Not!

WU-SYNDICATE — “THINK NOT!” Produced by Shaka Amazulu The 7th The wait is over. Joe Mafia, Myalansky, and Napoleon — the trio that once set the streets ablaze under the Wu-Tang flag — reunite with their new single “Think Not!”. A bold message aimed at the doubters. After years of silence, the chemistry that made Wu-Syndicate a standout force in the Wu-Tang family is still intact, sharp, and needed. Their signature blend of street wisdom, razor-sharp lyricism, and cinematic delivery returns with renewed hunger. “Think Not!” serves as a reminder that while time may pass, real skill never fades — it evolves. A triumphant return from three voices that never needed validation — just a mic, a beat, and the chance to strike again. lyrics Into: Understand. When you step in the ring, your arms are just too short to box with God. Joe Mafia : Verse 1 Oh yeah, I got my mind on my money. Money on my mind. I ain’t bullshittin nigga. Stay up on the grind. Keep a full clip. Run up on mex. Then you die. That metal get you flying high. And it’s homicide riders. Blood spill on the streets. Natural born killers. Gorilla. Nothing sweet. My heart pump free. On, wilder than cyclone the blocks that I be on the Triflin. Spike Jones. Straight shots of vodka Shaka AmaZulu with the voodoo Its not black magic I spit automatic high caliber cause panic graphic. Manic depressive maniac with Smith and Wesson I manifest a hell sent plague on the masses. Well sent, well spent. Face down in a casket. Not a red cent. You get AK lift. Your brain split JFK in broad day. Shit, it’s a hit. We tearin up the blocks like Swat, you think not. Rock around the clock. Tick tock, gettin gwap Pulling all nighters, getting right come cop I see you plottin your ass don’t wanna get shot. Napoleon: Verse 2 You can catch me in coup bizarre sitting on million, Started off with Knicks now its bricks in the ceiling. Laying up with chicks that’s mixed with Brazilian My Sex is a drug. You can’t kick it cause it’s a feeling. Every time I spit. You think rich in the building. The ghost of Pablo I switch like chameleons. Give me 50 G’s or you’ll be missing your children. Every time you hear the snakes hissing. Chill them rocks like hailstones. Yo, son, I’d rather talk in person. Gotto knock Stop cell phones. Somebody better tell homes. These 7 cities have hell zones Got one false move. The Mac will shatter your frail bones. I’m not a for real clone I am what I am. We build the empire. Gram after grams. Next summer. Comin through. Lamb after lamb. Got the chicks sayin damn, Papi. Damn. Tearin up the blocks like Swat, you think not. Rock around the clock. Tick tock, gettin gwap Pulling all nighters, getting right come cop I see you plottin your ass don’t wanna get shot. Myalansky – Verse 3 Trust me, this ain’t what you want, kid. Ain’t nothin sweet. With gangs in London, I’m connected internationally. Power back on. I’m controlling. Labeled as the Don. I advise you to be cautious or get torn apart on the prowl. We stay thirsty for the taste of blood. Specialize in extortion, murder cases, drugs, every mission bringing terror to the opposition. Niggas pussy got em runnin to the coppers. Snitchin Draco clips dumpin laying on their backs. That nigga dead. Wipe your tears. He ain’t comin back. The only thing that we after is the wealth and power. My heart froze. Ain’t no love. It turned corrupted sour. Making plans to expand. As we conquer land. They never search us at the club. We get them choppers in fleeing spots. After knocking off a Brinks. Drop each spot, send shots at the coppers. Man, I think not, but I think not. That’s right. That’s what you think, not. Tearin up the blocks like Swat, you think not. Rock around the clock. Tick tock, gettin gwap Pulling all nighters, getting right come cop I see you plottin your ass don’t wanna get shot. outro : Joe Mafia Yeah, all my UK niggas Shaka AmaZulu. It’s been a pleasure, my nigga. Voodoo core. Hard core shit UK. This Joe Maf from the syndicate niggas. Keep your hands in your eyes and your ears open, man. Get your hand out my motherfucking pocket, nigga. That’s how we do it. Don Vegas on the boards. credits released April 4, 2025 Lyrics Joe Mafia Napoleon Myalansky Production, Mix, Mastered by Shaka Amazulu The 7th