Lyrics

[Intro: Busta Rhymes] Yeah, yeah, yeah now (Oh, shit), what the fuck now? (Stranger) Flipmode Wu-Tang shit, what the fuck now? Yeah, yeah, yeah Historical and monumental shit (Yeah) What the fuck now? (Yeah) Yeah, yeah (Yeah), yeah [Verse 1: Busta Rhymes] Straight smack a nigga right in the face like this was handball (Hah) I'll make a mural out his face up on a damn wall Niggas play hard and shit (Hah) If you know what's best for you Y'all niggas better safeguard your shit (Hah) Even though we rep brass knuckle rap (Huh) Fuck with street geniuses and bowlegged chicks who walk with a gap (Hah) Street niggas now the corporate boss (Hoo) Still go to y'all restaurant for steamed fish and Irish moss (Hah) And y-yo, the way we do it and you see how my shit bomb Your whole show wack and I'ma cancel your sitcom Fuck a nigga (Hah) broad 'til she tired and real calm You ain't (Hah) knowin' my name tattooed on your bitch arm The way we blow shit, it's a shame (Hah) Casually bust my gun and celebrate bustin' a cork on the champagne Wrote you (Hah) with a whole new approach (Hah) that lead a whole team of niggas Y'all should know I only ball like a coach, now [Verse 2: Raekwon] Check out the light fixture, freak lines like white bitches Let the mic lines–hang that slang is ridiculous Emperor of warlords, big gun, only fuck with sawed-offs That's my specialty, more to bust Shot out my bed parrot keep it gangster, Lord I analyze your work, those that got murked were not established Texture look classy, arm baby 2000 raspberry S-5, blowin' through Asbury Soon to own steakhouses, glowin' like makeover thousand Them them niggas, robbin' from Pinkhouse's Show and prove, knockin' off cab drivers God, sodomize money, rape two hundred thousand See the color of the carved out Wu emblem Baby, it's all designers, tailor-made Wu gooses Limousine, automatic new uzi's in 'em, yo Relax, cousin, just cruise through, jewels with him [Instrumental Break] [Verse 3: GZA] Move up the block, giant box blast my song Non-stop strictly hip-hop, march on Doo-rag hang long, metal tape is high-bias Graphics, captured with the colorful iris I zoom in, while the listeners tune in Some assumin' they paid dues and joined the union Lost nigga couldn't rumble in this wild jungle Quick to crumble, type to be on the stand and fumble Divine Master–threw on the track that made 'em bleed He produce at unattainable rains of top speed This powerful magnet, that left 'em stagnant Was unlikely in cameras in larger fragments Un-filled rifle, scout sniper, shots precise Starlight scope, with the night vision device Splendid marksman, that'll shoot the one off the dice Split a grain of rice, in one shot we kill 'em twice [*Gunblast*]