Lyrics

[Intro: Sample from Shaolin vs. Wu Tang] "Shaolin shadowboxing and the Wu-Tang sword style" "If what you say is true, the Shaolin and the Wu-Tang could be dangerous. Do you think your Wu-Tang sword can defeat me?" [Verse 1: GZA] Yo, too advanced, Digi stance, made the CD enhanced I move with the speed and strength of ants Identical in form with the Beez they swarm Hold up, the cold current appear warm My first verbal brawl, started on some yes-yes y'all To the beat y'all, break your windshield, your jeep stall Mr. Traffic, dumbin' shit, from ecclesiastic Cashier, holdin' out, 'Vine cut off the plastic See the logo? A monument in Hip Hop Carved out, in the giant landscape of broken rocks Whether heard in herb spots, jukebox or malt shops Uncut live, drop eighty-five in one shot Spotlight hits the metal mic, majority stare Heard the Wu snare, while my iris cut down the glare Walk a road the great length you find too long to measure My Clan'll make me rhyme like D. Banner under pressure No surprise, double disc touched five Those elements, kept environments colonized With the high flyin' death-defyin' flow like the Rebel Right there, but you're one light year, from my level [Interlude: Ghostface Killah] Uh-huh, yeah, yo Check it, yo [Verse 2: Ghostface Killah] Bottles goin' off in the church, we broke the wine Slapped the pastor, didn't know Pop had asthma He pulled out his blue bible, change fell out his coat Three condoms, two dice, one bag of dope Oooh! Rev. ain't right, his church ain't right Deacon is a pimp, tell by his ice Mrs. Parks said, "Brother Starks, meet you at the numbers spot Heard you got red tops out, and I want a lot" Shirley fainted dead on the spot Two ushers slipped eighty dollars right out the pot Oh, shit! [Verse 3: Raekwon] Egyptian, brown skin brown suede Timbs Masqueradin' X-rated throw blades, all occasions Round nozzle touchdown, Haagen-Dazs goggles White House Gucci flag on the roof, call us rock groups Mere intelligent, buy Neiman Marcus out No doubt, all we saw he bought, Lori mom's all blow Was simple, blamp instrumentals run camps the stamps get you The way we lamp, fans come and get you Play, fullback strapped like a fuck, war at The black Carlo Gambino's stash house in Hackensack Pack capsules, Green Bay 'em lay 'em down like wax do It's all actual we build, like Crash Crew Coconut, incense, one sentence, ayo Control the holy flinch hit this, new whips Roman numerals, sun splash them niggas like, Tango and Cash Alcatraz cats roll out fast