I breaks it down to the bone gristle Ill speaking Scud missle heat seeking Johnny Blazing, nightmares like Wes Craven Niggaz gunnin, my third eye seen it coming Before it happen You know about them fucking Staten Kids they smashin Everything huh, in any shape form or fashion Now everybody talking bout they blastin, hmmm Is you bustin steel or is you flashin? Hmmm Talkin out your assHOLE You shoulda learnt about the flow and peasy afro Ticallion stallion, chinky eye and snot nosed From my naps to the bunion on my big toe I keeps it movin, know just what the fuck I'm doin Rap insomniac, fiend to catch a nigga snoozing Slip the cardiac arrest me, excorcist hip-hop posess me Crunch a nigga like a Nestle, you know my STEEZ burning to the third degree, sneaky ass alley cat top pedigree The head toucher, industry party bum rusher You don't like it dick up in ya fuck ya
(allow me to demonstrate) That's right, you corny-ass (the skill of Shaolin) rap motherfuckers (The special technique) Better go back and check (of shadowboxing) your fuckin stacks (Shadowboxing) Cause your naps ain't nappy enough And your reefs ain't rugged enough Bitch
Verse Two: The Genius/Maximillion
I slayed MC's back in the rec room era My style broke motherfuckin backs like Ken Patera Most rap niggaz came loud but unheard Once I pulled ut, round em off to the nearest third Check these non visual niggaz, with tapes and a portrait Flood the seminar, tryin to orbit this corporate indsutry, but what them niggaz can't see must break through like the Wu, unexpectedly Protect Ya Neck, my sword still remain imperial Before I blast the mic, RZA scratch off the serial We reign all year round from June to June While niggaz bite immediately if not soon Set the lynchin, and form the execution date As this two thousand beyond slang suffocate Amplify sample through vacumn tubes compressions cause RZA, to charge niggaz twenty G's a session
Verse Three: Method Man/Johnny Blaze
When my mind start to clickin, and the strategy is mastered the plot thickens, this be that Wu shit I don't give a cotten-pickin FUCK about a brother tryin to size a nigga up, I hold my own Hard-hat protect your dome Look at mama baby boy actin like he grown No time for sleep, I gets deep as a baritone Killa bee, that be holdin down his honeycomb, loungin son Wu brother number one, protect your neck Flying guillotines here they come, bloody bastards Hard times and killer tactics, spittin words plus semi-automatic slurs, peep the graphic novel from the genie bottle, hit the clutch shift the gear now, full throttle, time to bungee To the next episode, I keeps it grungy Hand on my nutsac, and spittin lung-ghies At a wack nigga dat, don't understand the fact When it come to RZA tra-cks I don't know how to act Real rap from the Stat, killa hill projects How to be exact, break it down All and together now Things are getting good looking better now