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The Chinese have a saying; "Dangerous men will meet in narrow streets" |
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And so it was, Wu will raise between the Clans |
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And that meant pressure on me, to make more weapons |
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And as word of the gold shipment spread |
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Strangers suddenly appeared in Jungle Village |
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[Raekwon] |
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Aiyo, aiyo, machete's still stainless, the archbishop run from the narcs |
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A crisp biscuit, plus play the heart, wrist glisten |
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Cool captain, catch me in Africa, blacked down |
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With four, five Somalians, black Timbs |
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Rubber suit Wonder Woman, bangles and blue Coupe |
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I'm usually up on the roof, counting mad loot |
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Root beer reefer, T-frame, doing my one-two |
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Smoking with a plain Jane trooper |
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Excellent with rifles, out in Japan, in a flight goose |
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Switchblade that poke out the night boost |
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Flustered on the bullet train with chains on |
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Getting my train on, thunder money make bread brainstorm |
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All this is made for the Forbes list, whores get pissed |
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Aiyo, he fucked me out his drawers, he dissed me |
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All this is calculated, the Batman of the Blackhand |
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Mafia money, killas who rock tans |
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[Chorus 2X: U-God] |
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Bone, crushing, smooth, kicks |
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Blades, chopping, through, bricks |
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Master of the weaponry, sells to both clicks |
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Blacksmith, with the Iron Fists |
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[Ghostface Killah] |
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Yeah, yo, rigamortis, I watch your body rot to the bone structure |
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Scrape out your brain watch your eyeballs rupture |
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Black magic, leave your fucking skull in a soup pot |
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Makaveli, vamoose like 2Pac |
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Suicidal tendencies, downing white Hennessey |
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Look in the book, I'm the definition of menace, B |
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Choking niggas out for no reason, it's Duck Seazon |
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I'm cold as ice, six degrees below freezing |
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Stay dipped, rock a striped shirt like Freddy Krueger |
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You'se a baby piranha surrounded by barracudas |
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Seven thirty, I'm more like six o'clock |
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Straight up and down, beating niggas til there's blood in the socks |
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Ox' and duff 'em, stuff 'em in black bags |
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Without getting no blood on my fresh rags |
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Ruthless, heart of a stone, born with no emotions |
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I piss out brouhahas, poisonous potions |
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[Chorus 2X] |
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[Kool G. Rap] |
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Yeah, it's the three deadly venoms, with weapons in the denims |
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Some shit that'll shake windows and break late tenants |
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Come left field, aim crooked, and just straight blaze in 'em |
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Have you niggas with straight legs, with a fake leg in 'em |
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Wolf in sheep's clothing, nah, I'm scoping a tender lamb |
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Spin you bitches like a ballroom dinner dance |
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G mode, dress code, got suspended plans |
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Russian roulette, money bet, go and spend your chance |
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You little fleas, the Killa Beez and army ants |
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EMS cut up your jeans like zombie pants |
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Hollow chrome to your collar bone, pinned against a dope beat |
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That sound like the first key on the xylophone |
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Grown men discussing death in the mildest tone |
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See how quick the smiley faces turn solid stone |
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Ghostface, Rae and G be the wildest known |
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We straight street, but we keep a seat in the palace throne |
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[Chorus 2X] |
