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Raekwon - Guillotine [Swords] (feat.Ghostface Killah, Inspectah Deck & The GZA) | Текст песни

Allow me to demonstrate the skill of Shaolin
The special technique of shadowboxing

[Intro 2: Inspectah Deck and Ghostface Killah]
Poisonous, poisonous (word word word)
I should slap all y'all niggas for coming in my fucking face with that shit
Alright cool yeah, go ahead man...
Poisonous

[Verse 1 : Inspectah Deck]
Poisonous paragraphs smash your phonograph in half
It be the Inspectah Deck on the warpath
First class leaving mics with a cast
Causing ruckus like the aftermath when guns blast
Run fast, here comes the verbal assaulter
Rhymes running wild like a child in a walker
I scored from the inner slums abroad
And my thoughts are razor sharp, I sliced the mic from the cord
First to criticize, but now they have become
Mentally paralyzed with hits that I devise
Now I testify, the rest is I
Rebel INS Your Highness, blessed to electrify
With voltage of a eel, truth that I reveal
Will crush the amateurs who scream they keep it real
Caesar black down, hoodied up in fatigues
Part time minor leagues receive third degrees
Attack like a wolf pack once I pull back
The God-U and bust through like a fullback

[Verse 2 : Ghostface Killah]
Yo, you fourteen carat gold slum computer wizard
Tapping inside my rap vein causes blizzards
The wildlife that kills for ice trife like by the digits
Gorillas injected with strength of eighty midgets
The Earth spins, Wu wins, rap exotic blends
Let my peeps in, niggas gasping, swallowing aspirins
With a dosage, you overdosed in rap
High explosives, my posters hypnotize with hypnosis
I sell goods, my whole Clan is on the run like Natural Born Killers
Record-breaking the album Thriller
Got access to tear gas, bombs and rocket launchers
Blow like dough, Killa Beez is what I sponsor
Your entrepreneur, pens in gear like Shakespeare
When I fuck I grab hair, collect drawers as souvenirs
Fuck yeah, my crew down German beers
My career's based on guns, throwing cats in wheelchairs
Etcetera, damage any lame ass competitor
Who try to front, get broken in fast like leathers
Whatever hot hardheads get shattered like mirrors
Beretta shots splatter your goose, scatter your feathers
Say never poetry chumps crumbs deal with graphic
Flew my family overseas, I'm maxing
If rap was crack, fully packed I be tall cats
Taxing kingpin of the rap drug trafficking
Village niggas get slapped in Manhattan
For rapping, Big Ghost steps off laughing
Ha!

[Interlude : samples]
Were you just using the Wu-Tang school method against me?
I've learned so many styles, forgive me

[Verse 3 : Raekwon]
Sit back relax, fake niggas don't get turns
Watch me massage your brain with slang that's king
Projects filled with young men cause threats
Who has that? Thousand dollar chains and Tecs
Focus, the brokest niggas of life shit
These mics is like cocaine son, check the suicidal hype shit
Exchange mad blunts taste the sweepstakes
Keeping up on fakes outta state for cakes
No doubt, plus nobody amount, we making dough off
Putting fifty on the Land and Allah, it's like that
Pull ya shoes up black, matter of fact just adapt
Tie up, your black Nikes and tight hats
Corners stay surrounded with foreigners
What up, dread? Feds caught your bredren for his bread
But regardless, peace to jail niggas with charges
Unify laying in the yard with La
My Clan done ran from Japan to Atlanta with stamina
Slingers and gamblers and gram handlers
Tical light the Owl cigar, let's get steamed
Infra-red guard your beam, so seek 'nough respect
Rude bwoy you bet, keep it moving Mashallah
Pro black like tar
Designing the fly shit and stay shining
The RZA pour more beats than Cristal's fine wine
Concrete raps go to bat
With 50 other niggas on the other side of the map
Knew it's all good and all done what, we want son
Mike Tyson of this rap shit, pulling out Macs for fun

[Verse 4: GZA]
The nigga don't get mad, I got mad styles of my own
And it's shown when my hands grip the chrome microphone
Verbally I catch bodies with cordless shotties
Intriguing MCs, I keep em trained like potties
I bomb facts, my sword is an axe
To split backs invisible, like dope fiend tracks
Sky's the limit, niggas are timid and nobody knows
How we move like wolves in sheep clothes
Producing data, microchips of software
Underground and off air
The Land of the Lost, notorious henchman from the North
Striking niggas where the Mason-Dixon line cross

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