| We are the G, O-D's
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| And we came to rock, the spot
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| Like Ironman Starks
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| They be the illest MC’s, in the world today
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| Cappa Raekwon and the R-Z-A
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| So listen to them clear, and put the box right near your ear
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| Light your blunts and down your beers
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| Cause you could never fuck with Wu-Tang Killer Beez…
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| Verse One: Raekwon the Chef
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| Say peace to cats who rock mack knowledge
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| Knowledgists, street astrologists
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| Light up the mic God, knowledge this
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| Fly joints that carried your points
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| Corolla Motorola holder
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| Play it God, he pack over the shoulder
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| Chrome tanks, player like Yanks, check the franchise
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| Front on my guys, my enterprise splash many lives
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| Rapel on fakes like reflectors
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| He had sugar in his ear in his last crack career
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| We can can him, manhandle him, if you wanna
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| run in his crib-o, get ditto, skate like a limo
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| And jet to the flyest estate, relate take a break
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| Break down an eighth and then wait drop it like Drake
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| Thugs they be booing and screwing, we canoeing
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| Claim they doin the same shit we doin, fuck your unit
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| It’s the same style, RZA trainable, jump the turnstyle
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| On the alley tried to challenge God for the new vials
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| Especially that, aluminum bat in the act
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| Relax, lay back, sell a grenade a day, it pays black
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| The Mac-10 flex white cats like Windex
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| Index finger be sore, bustin these fly scripts
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| The Wally kid count crazily grands with our plans
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| Layin with my bitches and my mans in Lex Lands
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| We losin em, jet to the stash and now Jerusalem
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| Abusin em, rockin his jewels like we usin em Low pro star, seven thick waves rock Polar
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| Roll with the older God, build with the Son and the Star
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| All these MC’s start realizing
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| That Ghost got that shit, that’ll keep you vibing
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| The Wu is here to bring, you Shaolin’s finest
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| But if your shields are weak, you better step behind us Verse Two: Ghostface Killer
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| Mercury raps is roughed then God just shown like taps
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| Red and white Wally’s that match, bend my baseball hat
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| Doin forever shit, like pissin out the window on turnpikes
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| Robbin niggaz for leathers, high swipin on dirt bikes
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| Voice be metal like Von Harper radio bubble
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| Murder sleep away camp, the fly lady champ
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| The arsonist, who burn with his pen regardless
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| Slaying all these earthlings and fake foreigners
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| In the Phillipines, pick herbal beans, bubbling strings
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| Body chemical CREAM, we burn kerosene
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| The conviction of my tape is rape, wicked like Nixon
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| Long-heads inscriptions with three sixes in Kiss the pyramid experiment with high explosive
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| I slapbox with Jesus, lick shots at Joseph
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| Zoomin like binoculars, the rap blacksmith
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| Money’s Rolex, with sparkles, Chef ragtop is spotless
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| I’m Iron Man no cheap cash metal I’m steel alloy
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| True identity hidden inside secret tabloids
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| Breathe oxygen both sides of my jaw carry oxes
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| The track hit like the bangers, in hundred watt boxes
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| Yo jostling these cats while Little J be deli-ing
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| Sip Irish Moss out of Widelians
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| Verse Three: Cappadonna
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| Give me the the fifty thou, small bills
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| My gold plate, my slang kills
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| My Benz spills, whattup Lils
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| Murder one Dunn
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| Killer bee stung, guess who back home Son
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| My technique of slang camp won, third platoon soon
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| Cristal bottles, cages of boom, probably wardrobe
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| The mad-hatter big dick style, beware goons
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| smuggle balloons, lord of dooms, in fat pussy wombs
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| Let the Gods build, pull up the grill
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| Check out the mad skills
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| Top secret technique, too hard for you to peep it and keep it, jiggy style of rap and watchin knuckle slang
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| sweep it out of order ape recorder can’t record my slaughter
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| spoil the rotten Don is too good to be forgotten
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| High top notch, borderline rhymes is handcocked
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| Ninety-six, my ill sound clash is still hot
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| Get yourself shot |