[Verse 1: Masta Killa] (x2) Intruder alert, sound the cymbal This be the war of the Shaolin Temple It's time to re-stack my gun We the ones that'll come through and smack sparks out your art With the exception of a few that respected it for what it was Sick venomous syndrome, studied many styles But this tactic I've adapted and made it my own Feelin' rightness at it at home, splittin' your head with the chrome He's one who sees he's a threat He couldn't have made it through, all the bad seeds and quarantines We hit him with explosive gases, so he couldn't teach the masses But still, who came in the name of Wu-Tang to nourish the brain?