| One two, one two -- you taping this? | 
| All types of shit yo let that shit ride | 
| Word to mother, turn up the microphone! | 
| Get all that good shit, get all that good shit | 
| One two, one two, one two… one two | 
| Now niggaz know | 
| Ssssshhhit, yo yo check this out, check this joint | 
| This is strictly for the radio, yo I just want all y’all to know | 
| The reason why I curse is because my momma and my daddy | 
| They grew up cursin | 
| So please respect my style, please! | 
| Verse One: Ol Dirty Bastard | 
| I’ll grab the mic and now I damage you, cut your whole stamin-u | 
| Ohh, sssshit, nahh | 
| I’ll grab the mic and now I damage ya, cut your whole staminuh | 
| Here comes the medical examinuh | 
| One verse then you out for the count | 
| Bring the ammonia make sure he sniffs… the right amount | 
| Ya yo, I’m sorry, un-gah-e-gas-e-ya | 
| I’ll grab and the mic and now I damage you, cut your whole stamiNUH | 
| Here comes the medical examiNUH | 
| One verse then you’re out for the count | 
| Bring the ammonia, make sure he sniffs the right amount | 
| Wake you up and then I ask you | 
| How do you intend this -- | 
| competition to get an asssss kickin sooooo tremendous, RARRH! | 
| You shouldn’t bother this | 
| Leave me alone like a son he’ll be fatherless! | 
| I got the asiatic flow mixed with disco | 
| Roll up on the scene like the Count of Monte Crisco | 
| and MC’s start to vanish | 
| I rolled up on a jet black kid the nigga started speakin spanish | 
| Yo! | 
| You wasn’t from Panana! | 
| I asked you how you get so fuckin dark, you said suntama | 
| He responded so fast, you made me laugh | 
| Ha-ha-ha, HARARRRH scared-his ass! | 
| Kick the hundred strongest rhymes | 
| then I brought out the punk in him | 
| Roll up with the strong five deadly venoms | 
| Told HIM! | 
| Enter the Wu-Tang! | 
| Witness the Shaolin slang, that crush any shit you bring | 
| I watch your ass take a big fall, why?! | 
| My Main Source, is like a friendly game of stickball | 
| And as you step up to bat man, I play the riddler | 
| You try to do me for my nigga I’ll change to Hitler | 
| I’ll go out like Nazi, wish your fuckin ass stayed | 
| home and play Yahtzee! | 
| Or watchin Happy Days sweatin Poxie | 
| with Ralphie and Cunningham, Joni and Chachi | 
| [Yo Unique, yo kid | 
| Check this shit out! | 
| Yo, yo] | 
| Verse Two: Ghostface Killer | 
| Ninety-five niggaz is wasted | 
| Keystone capered, and Wu kept the rap fiends basted | 
| Foamin out the mouthpiece, heads blown like geese | 
| Murderous police, I do shows and perform in Grease | 
| It’s not magic, gaming is the gadget | 
| World classic big national high attracts dear graphics | 
| Lampin in my own zone, my physical show | 
| Inhale bones Tony stuck, for the diamond in Rome | 
| He’s convincin, labelled one man rap convention | 
| The nigga that’ll gun down, eighty frenchmen | 
| Lead vocalist, music specialist, rap arsonist | 
| I deal with sharpness plus spark the hardest individual | 
| I plant crimes inside vocals | 
| My rap’s like my passport, my life’s my proof | 
| Hit the sun roof, be out like a wanderin dream | 
| Shuttle, and get startled off the verbal hygiene, my nigga | 
| Shame on you when you step through to Ol Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo! | 
| Shame on you when you step through to Ol Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo! | 
| What?!! | 
| My nuh | 
| Shame on you when you step through to The Ol Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo | 
| Shame on you when you step through to THe Ol Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo | 
| To the West coast! | 
| To the East coast | 
| To the North coast | 
| To the South | 
| When you take North, East, West, South | 
| Put it all together and it spell NEWS! | 
| Then you got the ol rhythm, bastard blues | 
| and ya don’t stop | 
| So keep your shit, motherfucker, fucker, fucker! |