Wu-Tang Clan, Redman, Method Man, Inspectah Deck, Ghostface Killah, Raekwon - Redbull

RZA came and got me, this what I came to do, come on Ring the bell so it's time to eat Brick Dog stash weed inta AMI-seats, bomb inside the palm Doc rock a wife beater with me beatin' my wife ass ironed on The front, my pump built like the Klumps To carry it I take the spare out the trunk I stay hungry, I ain't worked for days That's why you see the pump when the curtains raise Blast, don't panic Do I gotta explain how I tame and lock The rap game single-handed? Hell nah I won't tell you son, if I find a wack ID, I sell you one Doc and Hot Nick, Inspectah My lecture's like Hannibal Lector's Where's the ketchup? Don't speak on it, shut ya trap I see ya whole crew yellow like mustard packs Ah woo, Doc in my own zone You say you got the rap games sewn But it's sewn wrong I ride through ya hood in a Mr. Softee truck Then pull a mac out a box of snow cones Yeah, ya little fucks Gimme ya fuckin' money Uhuh, check it I'm hotter than a hundred degrees with my coat on Playing with a dynamite stick, where did I go wrong? Somebody pull the fire along when Jonny stomp If ya lukewarm leavin' ya clothes and boots torn Pro's and con's, megabomb's and so-on's By arid actions try MC's to get their roll on First issue, got issues What is hip-hop to hot nickels? It's like Funk Doc to snot tissues, word Look at my hand and get the third Finger out ya ear hole like "Fuck what you heard" Now, that's what I call hardcore, let's act fool Mr. Fix-It like Handyman I pack tool I been shitty, I'm from the veils of the city And just because my outfit match don't make me pretty Baggy Dun Gurees, dick need room to breathe In a room full of crackers I might cut the cheese Ain't no rules to the game If it is we ain't playin' In your business like EPMD, "So whatcha sayin'?" You co-designin' that bullshit yo man tryin' Chaka chaka cha-ta tatat Slugs flyin' Yo, ya Check, the code echoes from magazines to the big screen Fo' wheel machines like ya wits scream, kids fiend From the urban to sub-urban Roll upon me thirstin' like "Hey, hey, Mister Dream-Merchant" We roll longer than dice in a casino Cee-lo in the 4, 5 or 6 with double 0 Behind the tinted windows I lie low On some hydro tryin' to slide from the 5-0 But now, get wild similar to Ol' Dirty On third time felon just hit with over 30 No worries, style have 'em so thirsty First degree heats are quittin' on me Cold turkey, no mercy I bring the pain of a hundred migraines But a thousand shoutin' my name that's why I came But first bring the cash burst, then the outburst My surround sound pound ya ear like Jevon Kearse I flex muscle outside I find a next hustle Trouble with ya here and face the tec-muscle Even the best buckle win, I take it to the extreme It gets ugly, but it's what a nigga do to get cream This life