Intro: Deck
me to demonstrate the skill of Shaolin The special of shadowboxing
Poisonous, (word word word) I should slap all y'all for coming in my fuckin face with that shit Alright cool yeah, go man...
Verse One: Inspectah Deck a.k.a. INS
paragraphs, smash ya phonograph in half, it be the Deck on the warpath class leavin mics with a cast Causin ruckus like the aftermath when blast Run fast, comes the verbal assaulta runnin wild like a child in a walker I from the inner slums abroad And my thoughts are sharp I sliced the mic from the cord First they criticize, but now they have mentally paralyzed with that I devise Now I testify, the is I, Rebel INS Ya highness, to electrify voltage of an eel, truth that I reveal'll crush the who screamed to keep it real Caesar black down hoodied up and Part time minor leagues receive degrees Attack a wolf pack, once I pull back then guard you, and through like a fullback
Verse Ghostface Killer a.k.a. Tony Starks
Yo, you fourteen carat slum computer wizard Tappin inside my rap vein causes Do I like the for ice trife like botta digits Gorillas injected with of eighty midgets The Earth spins ruins, rap exotic Let my in, niggaz gaspin swallowin aspirins a dosage, you overdosed in rap High explosives my post-its hypnotize with I sell goods, my whole Clan is on the run like Natural Born the album Thriller Now access the jig who has bombs and rocket Float like dope bees is what I sponsor Ya entrepeneur, pens and like shakespeare When I fuck I hair, collect drawers as souveneirs Fuck yeah, my crew down German My career is based on guns, throwin in wheelchairs Etcetera, damage any lame ass Who try to front, get and passed like leathers Whatever hot hardheads get shattered like Beretta splatter your goose, scatter ya feathers Say poetry chumps crumbs deal with graphic Blew my overseas in mansions If rap was crack, fully packed I be cats Tax the of the rap drug traffickin Village get slapped in Manhattan for rappin, big Ghost steps off
(Were you using the Wu-Tang school method against me? I've so many styles, forgive me)
Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef a.k.a. Lou
Sit back relax, fake niggaz don't get Watch me massage ya brain with slang that's Projects filled with young men cause Who is that? Thousand chains and techs Focus, the brokest of life shit These mics is like cocaine Sun, check the suicidal hype Exchange mad blunts taste the up on fakes outta state for cakes No doubt, nobody amount, we making dough off of Puttin on the Land and Allah, it's like that Pull ya shoes up black, matta of just adapt Tie up, ya black Nike's and hats Corners, surrounded with foreigners dread? Feds caught you grudgin for his bread But regardless, peace to niggaz with charges Unify layin in the with La My Clan done ran from to Atlanta, with stamina and gamblers, and gram handlers Tical like the Isle, so God, let's get Infrared guard yo' Beem, so seek respect Rude bwoy you bet, it movin par shallah Pro like tar the fly shit and stay shinin and the RZA pours more than Cristal's fine wine raps go to black with 50 niggaz on the other side of the map Knew it's all good and all done what, we want Mike Tyson of rap shit, pullin out Macs for fun
Four: The Genius/GZA a.k.a. Maximillion
The nigga don't get mad, I got mad of my own And it's shown my hands grip the chrome microphone Verbally I catch bodies with shotties Intriguin emcees, I keep em like potties I facts, my sword is an axe to backs invisible, like dope fiend tracks Sky's the limit, are timid, and nobody knows How we move wolfs in sheep clothes Producin data, or software and off air, the Land of the Lost Notorious from the North Strikin niggaz where the Mason-Dixon line