| Hama-hama ley! |
| As I fly through the air
|
| Appear, rip and tear just like a spear
|
| Freakin it, wit that ol' crazy ol' flow
|
| (There I go, there I go, there I go)
|
| Yo, see what I mean, I’m fuckin sick
|
| Light the bomb, tick-tick-tick-tick, boom
|
| All I smell is terror, doom
|
| I be the nigga that escape from the patted room
|
| Goo-goo retarded, sickness, the shit
|
| Who put the «Hey ya» shit, on that first shit, yeah that shit
|
| Who spits words like you never heard, I’m absurd
|
| Ahh, gettin on ya nerves
|
| Crazy, who could amaze me
|
| Brain stay cessted, I stay lazy
|
| Drivin Miss Daisy, dukes
|
| Shaolin stomps like boots, and we get deep just like roots
|
| And culture, I leave the style for the vultures
|
| I told ya, you never in your life should of fucked wit the Soldiers
|
| Of Shaolin, a/k/a Staten Island
|
| I heard the fuckin kids be wildin
|
| Shaolin Zoo, who, Wu, Wu
|
| I deserve a medal for the clicks I be runnin through
|
| Chumps that front, catch lumps
|
| I’m runnin down clowns, my shit is comin down like a dump
|
| Black chumps, sunk into the shit that I flip |
| I bump, pumps, resultin in my triumph
|
| Chumps who front get dissed
|
| I burn like syphilis, and you be that dick that try and piss
|
| Pa Baby, you already saw
|
| While I be on some new shit, that I ain’t even ready for
|
| I’m sick, but what you want me to do
|
| I come through, and you couldn’t win if it was three of you
|
| If you’re concerned, I yearn to burn
|
| And if you’re fakin, I straighten niggas out like perms
|
| Every rhyme you wrote before
|
| Because the Shaolin moves on more niggas than U-Haul
|
| These niggas ain’t no calm
|
| So run for you gats, but until then the Shaolin stomps
|
| Do you know me? |
| The Obiwan Kenobi
|
| Claustrophobic sick, bigger than Moby Dick, bastard bitch
|
| Yeah right, save it for the judge
|
| But it wasn’t me, send us to the sumptuous slash ya M. C
|
| Severe in the worst form, here comes the Swarm
|
| Sound the alarm, now Pa drops the bomb
|
| While you’re in the hall, look out below
|
| Pa burnin, fuckin wit my sick ass flow
|
| Ping-ping like Ricochet Rabbit
|
| Or Quickdraw McGraw, cuz this is the last straw
|
| Alakazam, I be the magician master |
| There she blows, and it Fall like Niagara
|
| M.C.'s be swearin they could flip the script
|
| But ya best pour like Malky and don’t be ridicolous
|
| A soldier, straight from the battlegrounds of Hell
|
| Lyrically, I’m killin M.C.'s like brain cells
|
| Til we, are precede to commit bad deeds
|
| A roughneck from the projects, live like New Year’s Eve
|
| Chicks on my dick, like my hand when I’m pissin
|
| In fact, I got more tricks than a magician
|
| To be, or not to be, a real M. C
|
| Deal wit me, I stay black like B.E.T
|
| Shaolin, oh my lord, niggas is tryin to front
|
| They want beef, so give them craps what they want
|
| Rhymes be down like members of the enterprise
|
| You can’t defeat me, so when will you realize
|
| You guys get black eyes, when I smoke chocolate cha
|
| My styles massive fly, like plains in the sky
|
| The baddest brother in the Shaolin hemisphere
|
| It’s a nice place to visit, but you wouldn’t wanna live here
|
| Release, masterpiece constructed
|
| If nigga is pussy, I leave 'em cherry busted
|
| Dusted, who can fuck wit
|
| Or master absent minded bastard, burns crowds like acid |
| Yeah, I’m blowin the spot wit a loaded Glock
|
| Niggas get popped like a condom
|
| And tight twat, blaow, my Shaolin style causes death
|
| My brainstorms are more deformed than birth defects
|
| A sick individual, rips more material
|
| Ill type subliminal, calm the street criminal
|
| Disrespect, you’ll get recked, kid, I’m serious
|
| Thou shall burn like an infected clitoris
|
| None can match me, technique’s too nasty
|
| Pussy punk chumps bleed without a maxi
|
| Bring ya, who dare play me on the trigga
|
| I love guns so much, I bust nuts when I kill a nigga
|
| Out you end, the rugged top contender, surrender
|
| You’re style, I Bone like Linda
|
| Yo, pass the gat, kid, so I could blast those
|
| And let off more shit than that split between ya asshole
|
| I maintain, to pull my frame, out the corn
|
| Shaolin What! |
| Move on 'em stomp |