I despise your killing, and raping
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You're... despicable
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Are you, my judge?
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It's just... you should be punished
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I'm going to chop off your arm, so are you ready?
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[Verse One: U-God]
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Yo, yeah, yo, yo
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Yo, yeah
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Check these high hats sting things moving through the rubbish
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Party robust, rec room style for you brothers
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Time's ticking, eruptments conduct
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Entering one funk before the drum dry up
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Dial, style, jab vocab slow
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Alphabet run, construction voice might blow
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Tap dance swelling Hemingway novel model
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For a breather, dirty reefer hide your bottle
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Cut down, come with something that's round and profound
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Blood brothers people of colors we get down
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Watch this fly, force feed things being said
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Nine Diagram acid black evil red left his
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mic half a dangle, seriouser man
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My mic clapper def wish, everlasting plan
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heavenly God body, know me as the cleaner
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Night champion, old villain style seem a
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kiss of spider, to God saga why bother
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Godfather talk drama, fly swatters
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Number two, Chao San Poi
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[Verse Two: The Genius/GZA]
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This Wu shit be hard to kill and full blown
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Rhymes filtered through the net before words hit the chrome
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Pro tools editing tracks that's rough
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Cause a jam without a live MC isn't enough
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So we attack this, and grab all within reach
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Throw a scrap back to niggaz - perfect your own speech
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Shit is copper, it ain't worth the mic stands
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used by backup singers in Atlantic City bands
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Niggaz look on, and get hooked on this mic line
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Real thin and shift through the pipeline
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LP's delivered with style and potential
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Niggaz flowin smoothly in a sequential
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order, revealin hidden tape recorders
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Stashed inside pockets of those who lack aura
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[Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef]
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Twist the DAC up, them niggaz with math is back up
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Watch he act up, fifty-two block track we slap up
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Playground maneuver, jet to Vancouver like this
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Two Kahluas one chick she's German Luger
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Get the shit on, light a fresh pack, bust it open
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with the seal on Dunn, deal on this, with the real on
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Next, Rocky, ring, call it to Decatur
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Slang soufleer home decorater, player
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Mic immigrants, nine of us formed resemblance
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Somethin flashy, God dead-armed is nasty
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Peep the ornaments enough to make Shorty-Wop stare at me yo
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He killed the God might as well throw a chair at me
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[Verse Four: Prince Rakeem/RZA]
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Yo MC's wonder what's hip-hop thunder
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Tell you the truth it's just one nation under a groove
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Gettin down for the funk of it
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Like Fred Sanford in the biz...
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Yo one held his paraphenalia, a Wu memorabilia
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Mailed by the fortune teller, tried to tell ya
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bout the group recruit we scoop up CREAM like Breyer's
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Then spread across the globe like telephone wires
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Thirty-six assorted, Shaolin imported
|
chambers been recorded, you're fuckin with the loops
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Time for royalty audit
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Fabulous establishment metabolism, Blackfoot Indian
|
Cherokee started out smaller than amphibian
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Then grew to a physical body with five meridians
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As the pendulum swings closer to the millenium
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two thousand, wickedness is spread amongst my citizen
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I got a muscle the industrial to make a hustle
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and politic with Leo and Russell
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When niggaz is still rushin we'll brush you
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He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives
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[Verse Five: Masta Killa]
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Thoughts are contained in the trenches of the brain
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ignite, blowin the mic to Arabian heights
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As I recite this medley, niggaz couldn't fuck with the
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deadly ground I hold down
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Classical gangland style, shots hit the ceiling
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Panic and confusion echoes through the building
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Continuing to build, I strive for perfection
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Driven by the will to live, glocks I hold
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Shots I give, while searchers of rescue teams
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look for means of survival and who's liable
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for this harrowing experience
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You scream for the extreme, fiend for the cap
|
and proceeds of the Wu-Tang Academy
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To fuck up your anatomy with assault and battery
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Number two, Chao San Poi
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Number two, Chao San Poi
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He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives
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Number one, Yen Chang Wa
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He's an adulterer, don't |