[Verse 1: Raekwon]
My team be bellyaching hungry niggas on the swarm again
Piranha nig bite dick, yo son, it's on again
What up? He made a move, try to assist it
Listen kid yo, you was born to be a pawn but I'm a bishop
Back to the novel, yo Son, it's logical
How you figure God? What? Flow on the track, flip the obstacle
Now my proposal rips the global
From California to courts, it's over God told taste the soul food
Remember baggy jeans, the Timberlands in November
Shorty called me Santa in December
But guess what, my Wally's got messed up
Autograph pressed up what, blessed enough to blow your rest up
We scrape that, Land O' Lake that, Mazola rap
Will get you sent back, represent the gentlemens who bent that
Flash medallions like Italians, la costra nostra
We moving through your hood like we supposed to
Flexing Lex and Diamonds hold the settlement
To keep the bust your gun boo like that bad ass bitch in Dead Presidents
Ad on the billboard store, check it now, you get the gold dick award
It's like jail and it's the sixth floor
Test me, floating in the S.E., now let's see
Half of y'all niggas built your vine from my stress tree
Faggots, homos, yo, my flavor liver than adobo
Stay militant kid, twist ya like bolo
You fucking idiot, playing with my Clan but you be fearing it
Fake one, I'm guaranteed to make you take one
Please, y'all niggas money's getting low
But could you come back though, set up shop and get the fat glow?
Tired of y'all, mostly inspired by y'all
So what the deal now, link up with us or put your shield down
Faggot (bitch), you fuck around punk (seven fifteen)
We battle for cream nigga
[Verse 2: RZA]
You want a pound crab? Nah let his hand swing
I ought to punch a hole in his palm with these pointy ass rings
No more said, knew your chump ass was dead
When I saw the .44 reflecting off your shiny forehead
It's Wu-Tang nigga, ain't nothing changed nigga
Still 'Shame on a Nigga', who tried to run game
Your version of perversion, fucking bitches on Persian rugs
Washing niggas like detergent, it's the surgeon
Slugs propels from Bobby Steele's 12 gauge front page "Daily Chronicle" reads
"Hell up in Gotham, take heed and protect your seeds"
You fall like autumn leaves, you lack tranquillity
In your rap utilities to fuck with the abilities
Race like a sperm cell to the ovary
Microphone post tone like a rotary phone, ancient poems of poetry Old scrolls, explosive head bullets, black hooded, Timberland footed ninjas
With 'Full Metal Jacket' clips and know how to put it in you
Surrender your goods and your merchandise for no purchase price, I'm certainly a heist for your ice and curtains and vice
Come quietly, Wu-Tang Clan rules society
Because of variety, so maintain your high anxiety
And lead them to defy me, diary, ya Irie? ...
I need 18 points for my next joint, this high anointed king
To make a deal, I be the one to appoint
Steve Rifkind must have been sniffing
To catch something so dope, it left Monica Lynch pussy dripping
I fuck hundreds of bitches and split millions of dollars
And built with thousands of scholars
My life saga from the hill to the harbor, legal kid brown in Nicaragua
Gave birth to MCs, thieves and bank robbers
We drove expensive whips and took worldwide trips
And my dick's been sucked by the finest lips
Fancy delicatessens and the world's best refreshment
But none of the above compare to the one-twenty lessons
Or my queen and my seeds in the home that I rest in
Enter my zone get blown in 99 sections
[Verse 3: Method Man]
This rhyme has no limitation, this time there's no hesitation
Collecting minds at the door
You want it niggas it's yours, the flavors raw
What the fuck you think I'm flowing for? It's rhyme and reason
Bite the bullet, niggas is fowl and it's duck season
We at odds till we even motherfucker
Bad asses, high times, lower classes
Taste mine, straight shots in dirty glasses
Bring it to him, room service, under pressure
And mad nervy, waving guns at the clergy
Ticallion, we ain't worried, keep them sick niggas 7-30
Picture this, watch the birdy
These Bastards is Ol' and Dirty, with sharp hymns
That be stabbing you, pins and needles, needles and pins
'Nough said, dick in your mouth like Tempest Bled'
As I race track with thoroughbreds, ducking the Feds
[Verse 4: Raekwon]
Yo, my ice look fly upon the keyboard son
Niggas ran up on me lord, praising what we do by the laws
That's right, exile the fake, hit them niggas like weight
Feed 'em food, let the fake evaporate
Reconstruction, that's the whole science on my, production
Y'all niggas guess who stuck son, left his nuts hung
Switch, finger itch, staring at you like a bitch
Maybe y'all niggas snitched
You's a loner, Adidas shell top while I
Sip a Corona, read the Robb Report, then bone her
Buy you some jewels, here's some food
Not necessarily mean to be rude boo, check out the analoo
We in the mushrooms, chased the high neck in the custom
Baggy jeans, thick ropes god, sliding through customs
Chill, y'all niggas know what time it is
James Bond beamers behind me on Bacardi Limon
Check out the pitch like Nolan Ryan, he caught a slug for lying
Yeah you was lying, where's the cash, crying
Militia, rolling in position
Casa Blanca Cuban Link Christian
Lex retali' back whistling fake fucks {*echoes*}
