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(feat. Karim Justice, Shamel Irief, Young Prince) |
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[Intro: Justice] |
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Yeah... what? What? |
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Justice.. yeah.. check it out |
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[Justice:] |
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I never hesitate to drop a verse, I rhyme first |
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Repeat it so often, it's well rehearsed |
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Rap stars, come through, rock the universe |
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I watch from afar just to see what they be doing first |
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Some was at they worst, dying of thirst |
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Others push through like the troops in Iraq, yo |
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But what did Bush do? See, I don't know a thing about politics |
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But flowing to the beat, is as dirty as my collar gets |
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The wildest child is gifted and talented |
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But change they style, will never wanna challenge it |
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You telling me to rhyme to the melody |
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I take time with my words like I'm in the spelling bee |
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If I don't make the grade, I don't make the record |
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Once that's accomplished, then my rhymes respect it |
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As long as we stay on track, and then |
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We can rhyme back to back, whatever, kid |
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[Chorus: Shamel Irief] |
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One, two, we coming with the Wu |
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Three, four, we knocking at your door |
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Five, six, we eat them grits |
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Seven, to the eight, we don't hate |
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Nine to the ten, and we still wanna win.. |
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(Wanna win, wanna win...) |
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[Shamel Irief:] |
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Yo, I terrorize shorty with the Iron Palm |
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When I step on stage, I clutch the mic strong |
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That melody was flowing, while that beat was going |
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When the waves connect in my ear, that pen starts going |
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Cuz when I get on the mic, I rock it so ill |
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That's why they call me the Little Masta Kill' |
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I'm like rock and stone, put together |
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These dudes come in my face like "blah blah whatever" |
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So I had to hit the dude in the chest, B |
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These little fake MC's just want to test me |
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I thought I told you before, I'm not a toy |
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I'm just a young boy, what? Doing my thing |
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Brooklyn, Brooklyn, with the Brooklyn slang, come on |
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[Chorus] |
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[Young Prince:] |
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Wu-Tang Clan Killa Beez |
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Rock all my enemies, with the double D's |
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Double CD's, ride for the enemies |
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With the rocking-the-mic right, roll up with the typewrite |
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Rocking my Nike Flight, ballin' with the nice |
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And I'm rippin' the mic right, and you know who it is |
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It's the Young kid P, from the Brooklyn side |
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Brooklyn's Finest, Brownsville |
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Knew our attack, and what the gats do, Plaza, all day, baby |
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[Outro: Masta Killa] |
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Yeah... can't lose, and we still gon' win forever |
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Young Godz forever |
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Peace to the Gods and the Earths forever |
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Kareem Just, Shamel Irief, the Young Prince |
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Yeah, yeah, Allah Just you know how do this thing, man |
