| Now number two, practiced the snake style
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| He was known as the snake spirit
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| He had the speed of a snake
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| Intro/Verse One: Killah Priest
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| Niggaz is like serpents out there
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| Serpents will bite
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| Lay outside, and then they roll back into they holes
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| They slither, in the streets of Brooklyn, New York
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| Slither in the streets, of Manhattan
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| In the streets of Queens, streets of the Bronx
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| Streets of Staten Island
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| Wherever you see em they slither
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| Whoever… yo Fearsome shit… check it out
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| Yo, yo It broke me up when they pat me on my shoulder
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| Said stay strong cuz his life is now over
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| I flash back to the heathens that he roll with
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| They shot him up and down nobody knows shit
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| My peers, little ears
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| Came up to me with a eye full of tears
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| Last night we was shootin dice and gettin nice
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| Kid rolled us, played us for our merchandise
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| We were in the hallway all day
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| Me, Steve, and Little Ray
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| Probably at first they tried to rob me Back me in the lobby, pull out the shotty
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| Then came Scotty, fragile body
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| My first impression, he returned from a party
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| He was just stagger, smellin like Bacardi
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| The Dragon, braggin, how he was fuckin mad hotties
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| Pressed on the elevator button, then all of a sudden
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| He licked off, about a dozen
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| Slugs from the cannon, that ripped through my cousin
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| Nobody was standin when the nigga started bustin
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| Blood started to flood the floors, by the elevator doors
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| That’s the last thing that I saw
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| Damn, we plan to make grands of our home
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| Verse Two: The RZA
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| Jagged edge, rockin God, hard as Stonehenge
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| Pledged whoever crossed his path get scrapped with a sledge.
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| .hammer, he didn’t give a damn about the manor
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| And on the block he was called by the momma’s and the grandma’s
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| Indecent, heathen, juvenile delinquent
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| His weekends was frequently, locked inside the precinct
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| His most recent cape for catchin papes
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| Was snatchin up snakes on a roof butt-naked hang em off like drapes
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| Then ask what’s the combination to the safe, with the brace
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| And those who didn’t reply they fell straight to their face
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| Razor blade sharp who invades the dark
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| And raid more spots than Spays and NARCS iron heart like Tony Starks
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| A fierce lion, who never leave the crib without the iron
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| And on the block he be slingin rocks and duckin from the sirens
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| Greetin niggaz he loved with a pound, and a bear hug
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| Those who wanted life, they catch a slug from the snub
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| A Five Percent, who all knew was one to ten
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| He loved the Gods with his heart but his brain was filled with sin
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| And when he came through niggaz be lookin out
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| Hopin he gets shot or tooken out, or locked the fuck up in Brooklyn House
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| In PC, on a liquid diet, but he was louder than a riot
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| Verse Three: Masta Killa
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| Do the knowledge to a nigga named Trigga
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| Bad rude boy from the land of Jamaica
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| With visions to venture, to the U.S.
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| To receive the gold that he couldn’t acheive
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| in his country, even though he sold mad weed
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| for the next man, who was the Don of the clan
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| Niggaz actin like they got the block locked
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| Like I can’t sling drug raps and eat food
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| But I be the rudest, bad boy steppin gun totin
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| Shots lash out like a violent explosion
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| at the nigga, who tries to stop my production
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| Intervene the scene and slow up the CREAM
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| None of that black, East New York, gun talk
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| Niggaz I extort from Baltic to Boardwalk
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| Memories of injuries wounds and burns
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| Walkin through the streets of Medina I stand firm
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| Cause I know this, which means I can hold mine down
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| without a doubt, niggaz who front, get snuffed out
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| Justice must be born there’s no escape
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| cause a snake can’t be reformed so I wait
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| Comin in the name to proclaim your fame for protection
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| and you don’t know no fuckin lessons?
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| Verse Four: Ol Dirty Bastard
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| Bad, bad, Leroy Brown
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| Baddest man in the whole damn town
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| Badder than the deep blue seaaaaa
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| Badder than you and meeeeee
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| Niggaz comin thru the trees, like a salamander, bitin
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| Like a piranha, but I’m bitin you back, like a black pantha
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| The style I’m ampin the… fuck my name, who I be?
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| Fuck the game, it’s all about the moneyyyy!
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| Owahhaerahh, sometimes I get high with the Meth
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| Then I turn to the Killah Priest
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| When it comes TWELVE O’CLOCK!
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| I turn into the demon beast, yo Yo fuck that shit!
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| YO! |
| SHOW THESE MOTHERFUCKERS WHAT TIME IT IS Rawwrarrrah
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| Rahhwarwaahauh, rawwaroar!
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| WHOSE THE BAD-ASS? |
| *rawharrah*
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| WHOSE THE BAD-ASS?
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| Rawwwaahrah
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| [he practiced the snake style
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| he was known as the snake spirit] YEAHhhhhh
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| Verse Five: Buddah Monk
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| Lyrics, never waitin, twelve days, penetrated
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| When I come with the ruffness, mad niggaz try to rush this
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| Slip into my killings, then I slays and you’re helpless
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| When I try to stay sick, it’s yacub grafted six
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| Calm for the kill, knowing the style that’s ill
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| When I drop, lyric skills, brothers say, Buddah chill!
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| Outro: Ol Dirty Bastard
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| I don’t need to rhyme no more, niggaz know, yo!
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| To all the Wu-Tang Clan members
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| The Ghostface Killer, the GZA, the RZA, the Ol Dirty Bastard
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| The Method Man, the Chef — Raekwon, Inspector Deck, U-God
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| Yo!!! |