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[ti:Guillotine (Swordz) ] |
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[ar:Raekwon] |
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[al:Only Built 4 Cuban Linx] |
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Allow me to demonstrate the skill of Shaolin |
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The special technique of shadowboxing' |
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Poisonous, poisonous |
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(Word, word, word) |
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I should slap all y'all niggaz for comin' |
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In my ****in' face with that shit |
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Alright cool yeah, go ahead man |
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Poisonous |
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Poisonous paragraphs, smash ya phonograph |
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In half, it be the Inspectah Deck on the warpath |
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First class leavin' mics with a cast |
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Causin' ruckus like the aftermath when guns blast |
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Run fast, here comes the verbal assaulta |
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Rhymes runnin' wild like a child in a walker |
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I scored from the inner slums abroad |
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And my thoughts are razor sharp I sliced the mic from the cord |
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First they criticize, but now they have become |
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Mentally paralyzed with hits that I devise |
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Now I testify, the rest is I, Rebel in S |
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Ya highness, blessed to electrify |
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With voltage of an eel, truth that I reveal'll |
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Rush the amateurs who screamed to keep it real |
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Caesar black down hoodied up and fatigues |
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Part time minor leagues receive third degrees |
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Attack like a wolf pack, once I pull back |
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Then guard you, and bust through like a fullback |
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Yo, you fourteen carat gold slum computer wizard |
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Tappin' inside my rap vein causes blizzards |
| [01:15.37] |
Do I like the kills for ice trife like botta digits |
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Gorillas injected with strength of eighty midgets |
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The Earth spins, ruins, rap exotic blends |
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Let my peeps in, niggaz gaspin' swallowin' aspirins |
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What a dosage, you overdosed in rap |
| [01:27.18] |
High explosives my post-its hypnotize with hypnosis |
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I sell goods, my whole Clan is on the run like Natural Born Killers |
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Record-breakin' the album Thriller |
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Now access the jig who has bombs and rocket launchers |
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Float like dope killer bees is what I sponsor |
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Ya entrepreneur, pens and gear like Shakespeare |
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When I **** I grab hair, collect drawers as souvenirs |
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**** yeah, my crew down German beers |
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My career is based on guns, throwin' cats in wheelchairs |
| [01:48.75] |
Etcetera, damage any lame ass competitor |
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Who try to front, get broken and passed like leathers |
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Whatever hot hard heads get shattered like mirrors |
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Beretta shots splatter your goose, scatter ya feathers |
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Say never poetry chumps crumbs deal with graphic |
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Blew my family overseas in mansions |
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If rap was crack, fully packed I be tour cats |
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Tax the kingpin of the rap drug traffickin' |
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Village niggaz get slapped in Manhattan |
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For rappin', big Ghost steps off laffin' |
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Were you just using |
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The Wu-Tang school method against me? |
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I've learned so many styles, forgive me |
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Sit back relax, fake niggaz don't get turns |
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Watch me massage ya brain with slang that's king |
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Projects filled with young men 'cause threats |
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Who is that? Thousand dollar chains and techs |
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Focus, the brokest niggaz of life shit |
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These mics is like cocaine Sun, check the suicidal hype shit |
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Exchange mad blunts taste the sweepstakes |
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Keepin' up on fakes outta state for cakes |
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No doubt, plus nobody amount, we makin' dough off of |
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Puttin' fifty on the Land and Allah, it's like that |
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Pull ya shoes up black, matta of fact just adapt |
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Tie up, ya black Nike's and tight hats |
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Corners, stay surrounded with foreigners |
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Whattup dread? Feds caught you grudgin' for his bread |
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But regardless, peace to jail niggaz with charges |
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Unify layin' in the guard with La |
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My Clan done ran from Japan to Atlanta, with stamina |
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Clingers and gamblers, and gram handlers |
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Tical like the Isle, so God, let's get steamed |
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Infrared guard yo' Beem, so seek nuff respect |
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Rude bwoy you bet, keep it movin' par shallah |
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Pro black like tar |
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Designin' the fly shit and stay shinin' |
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And the RZA pours more beats than Cristal's fine wine |
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Concrete raps go to black |
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With 50 other niggaz on the other side of the map |
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Knew it's all good and all done what, we want some |
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Mike Tyson of this rap shit, pullin' out Macs for fun |
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The nigga don't get mad, I got mad styles of my own |
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And it's shown when my hands grip the chrome microphone |
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Verbally I catch bodies with cordless shotties |
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Intriguin' emcees, I keep 'em trained like potties |
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I bomb facts, my sword is an axe |
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To split backs invisible, like dope fiend tracks |
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Sky's the limit, niggaz are timid, and nobody knows |
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How we move like wolfs in sheep clothes |
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Producin' data, microchips or software |
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Undaground and off air, the Land of the Lost |
| [03:54.56] |
Notorious henchman from the North |
| [03:56.18] |
Strikin' niggaz where the Mason-Dixon line crossed |
