Furious Anger

Lyrics

[Intro: Reporter, Samuel L. Jackson & Big L] Shyheim, the youngest member of the Wu-Tang Clan, was jumped in a Staten Island club and his face still bares the scar And you will know my name is the Lord Shyheim, yeah Corleone Uh-huh, check it out [Verse 1: Big L] Y'all niggas be walkin' the streets iced out Not knowin' the wolves'll put the price out To get you stuck and put your lights out Or catch your car at the light and snatch your wife out And beat the ho up if you don't give the dough up You got me pissed off, frontin' and your whole clique soft If you had your Rollie on, I might cut your wrist off Then lick off and slide your bitch off, punk I hope you ready for the kick-off, this rap shit I'm gettin' rich off I done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack Now I want a gold plaque, can I get a soul clap? It ain't no callin' time-out once I climb out The garbage can with two 9s out and blow your spine out, uh I got you cats by a long-shot, every song hot 139 and Lenox is a strong block I left enough of y'all stinkin' What the fuck was y'all thinkin'? My shit tight, nigga, I spit right, nigga Yo, what? [Verse 2: Shyheim] Young outlaw, the state wanna get rid of me I'll probably die from the death penalty Y'all analog, Shyheim, I keep it digit-y I'm not pussy so I don't need security Like Big L, I'm MVP on the street I done wet more people than the pool and the beach So be easy or I'll expose you like shock TV OG, that's why they put me in the movie Don't screw me 'cause if I punch you in your face You'll probably try and sue me and take me to Judge Judy Look me in my eyes 'cause your handshake don't fool thee Stapleton Staten Islander, your name's marked on the calendar Ain't no screwin' off a silencer (Uh-uh) [Interlude: Samuel L. Jackson] And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger Those who attempt to poison and destroy My brothers, and you will know my name is the Lord [Verse 3: Big L & Samuel L. Jackson] You got somethin' to say, then cough it out 'Cause niggas be wantin' beef, but when you pull out the heat, they ready to talk it out What is there to talk about? You was just frontin', now it ain't nothin', ain't that somethin'? I should start bustin' anyway and put one of you punks in the ground Y'all niggas be killin' me with y'all faces frown, jumpin' around Like you scarin' us, not even 'Cause me and Shy' gon' be some thugs 'til we stop breathin' My name is the Lord [Verse 4: Shyheim] Niggas be actin' like they hoodlums Until they get shot up or locked up, now they Bloods and Muslims (Uh-huh) In the bullpens, bang 'em like a Benz Touch kid, nothin' thin, put his ear to his chin I gotta win and beat this game, and die rich and old (No doubt) 'Cause these player-hatin' niggas wanna block my gold It's untold like the truth, they thirsty for my juice But when I let loose, have them jumpin' out their boots