| En garde, I’ll let you try my Wu-Tang style
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| I’d like to try your Wu-Tang style, let’s begin, then
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| Shaolin shadowboxing and the Wu-Tang sword style
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| If what you say is true, the Shaolin and the Wu-Tang could be dangerous
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| Do you think your Wu-Tang sword can defeat me?
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| Wu-Tang!
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| Wu-Tang!
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| Wu-Tang!
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| Wu-Tang!
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| Ayo, ayo, Wu-Tang forever, who rhyme better?
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| We too clever, the boom bap’s back, harder than ever
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| R.I.P. |
| O.D.B, comin' through like Killa Bee
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| Ever since I heard Enter the 36 in '93
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| You cannot defeat my Wu-Tang style, I leave 'em all dismembered
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| Fuck a mumble rap, that shit won’t never be remembered
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| Not even a contender, no, pretender, best surrender
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| My agenda is killin' shit, they feelin' this (Sinatra)
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| Yeah, we live and thorough
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| Assassinatin' every single muthafuckin' borough
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| From Staten to Brooklyn to Queens, the Bronx and Harlem
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| All the way to Maryland, yeah, we comin' for all 'em
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| Bobby Tarantino to the Digital
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| My shit is pivotal, smokin' chronic, no medicinal
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| Who you know assemble the Clan like Voltron?
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| The one and only Logic, the God, the don, I’m gone
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| Ay-yo, Logic, what up?
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| We gon' let these muthafuckas try this Wu-Tang style
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| Yo, yo, yo, yo, kaboom!
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| Guess who stepped in the room
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| It’s Ghostface, gold plates, old truths, more cake
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| Intelligent brothers with nine hoods, movin' snowflakes
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| Guillotine your head, last scene in the showcase
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| Push weight, this Colgate, tre-eights and old gates
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| Exfoliate those we most hate, we don’t associate
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| We wear robes that you can’t even pronunciate
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| We eat foods where you can’t even pronounce you ate
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| Cribs where the floor just rises up and rotates
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| Locations low-key, can’t even locate
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| Twin nina sisters with the beam, we all soulmates
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| Team makin' us so much cream, we bought gold plates
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| Yo, mountains of haze in the crib of my blades
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| It gets messy underneath the dresser, the gauge
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| 57 MB, yo, metallic green, seats is piped off
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| Seize 'em old tracks, unite through 'em
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| The kitchen is my palace, get your dance on
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| While we just levitate with trees, get your branch on
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| I’m known to wil' out, put the cams on
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| Jewels down, the sets dip, my gems got grams on
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| A specialist when I’m bakin'
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| Rhymes be comin' out, we makin'
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| We challengin' these chumps for lumps
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| Here’s the statement—stop hatin'
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| The crew is all about gettin' this cake in
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| You know about me, you relatin'
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| The enigma, the stigmas that the RZA and the GZA
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| Both lyrical prolific, fixtures of rap scriptures
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| Mixtures of hipsters, weed smokers, and beer drinkers
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| Prince and the Pauper, spiritual clear-thinkers
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| Cake in the oven, Superbad like McLovin
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| Huggin' all four boroughs, puffin' herb with my cousin
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| Academically speaking, rap vocabulary’s weakenin'
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| I felt it comin' like The Weeknd when these starboys start tweakin'
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| Sporadic pill-poppin' of OxyContin
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| III-gotten sexual intercourse make shorty wop feel rotten
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| The travesty-tapestry of microphone mastery has been refuted
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| Diluted, broken down to a catastrophe
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| But cats still get the trophy, hit y’all with that «Okie-dokie»
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| Burt Reynolds, Bandit, goddamnit
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| Where the fuck is Smokey Bear when you need one?
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| I got a light-beam gun
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| I’ll blast a hole in your chest that you can’t bleed from
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| But you’ll die through iniquity, plus stupidity of that trickery
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| My verse got it hot up in here, not the humidity
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| You can never get rid of me, step back and consider me
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| Wu Killa Bee, but I’m not big on bigotry
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| Old school on this track, I feel invincible
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| This new school ain’t really got rules and lack the principles
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| Got more clowns than the Motown, they puttin' critical
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| The gun, Smokey Robinson, you need a Miracle
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| Go back, homie, back when rappers used to be lyrical
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| When nine out of ten of his friends used to be criminals
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| The stats, homie, all these killas usin' subliminals
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| Y’all don’t even smile in your pictures, you dudes is miserable
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| Witty unpredictable torture over your physical
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| Struggle bar, used to pour water over the cereal
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| Another bar, reppin' my squad, not individual
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| But one Nation under God, that’s indivisible
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| My time critical, hands off I’m digital |
| Me and my Ladybug, back when the planet was Digable
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| I’m cool like that, my cash rule like that
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| I’m classic, Patti LaBelle, Voulez Vous like that, come on
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| It’s only Logic, we got 'em mobbin' in the mosh pit
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| Fifth Brother, INS hotter than the tropics
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| The hot shit I drop quick
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| Major player, watch my stock lift
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| Razor-blade sharpness regardless to whom or what
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| Sound boy, turn that music up
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| Naysayer, you ain’t even got a clue what’s up
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| Deadly melody, the sickness, the remedy
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| Everything circulate back around eventually
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| Witty unpredictable, talent all-natural
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| Gain, Wu-Tang pumpin' through your veins
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| Twenty-five years, still more of the same
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| The flow like water with the boilin' flame
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| INS, your highness, they callin' my name
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| Boy, I wet the scene similar to fallin' rain
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| In our own lane, y’all soundin' all the same
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| Tell 'em Wu-Tang is on your brain
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| Survival of the fittest be cold days with no money
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| They don’t want me with stacks, they better take it from me
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| You know the currency gone soon as you break a twenty
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| So I ain’t down if you ain’t talkin' that band language
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| Dear Lord, I’m tryna buy me a train with it
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| An airplane, see me flyin' to Spain with it
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| But money don’t make me, and I ain’t gonna change with it
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| I’m in the hood, lookin' good, the way I came with it
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| Do it for the Cs, they understood the game with it
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| We gave birth when we understood the pain with it
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| When we create wars, everybody is a gangbanger
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| We killin' each other, but we all got the same anger
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| Never go against the grain, homie, that’s hateful
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| Another day in the life for us to be grateful
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| Spread love, homie, yeah, get a plateful
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| It’s better to stay full, so let’s make moves
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| I know your momma told you that I was a great dude
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| These dirty-ass cops, they kill and rape you
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| On some Jason shit, might Crystal in the Lake you
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| What? |
| What, what? |
| They might Crystal in the Lake you
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| Boom bap blast’ll blow your sleeves off
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| Our Flashback Jacks are somethin' to feed off
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| Smoke and roast ya, the No. 9 Potion
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| Pull that shit, son, we open the ocean
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| Who gives a fuck who’s snortin' and drinkin' and smokin'?
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| You get killed for jokin', everybody’s hopin'
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| That’s another level of emotion
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| Food stamps niggas doin' grocery
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| Police wanna grope me
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| Perp walk, then nigga street-talk
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| We bury niggas in sea salt
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| I carry the torch where I leave off
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| I’m givin' bitches somethin' to breathe on
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| I rip off a shoulder to lean on
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| It’s fair game, it’s two in a lane, she took two trains
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| And none of my rhymes are two and the same
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| Nigga get cooked on a open flame
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| I’m a hillbilly, Park Hill-trained
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| My rhyme starts riots in the mountains
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| Thirty-six million and countin'
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| The harder they come, the harder I go
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| Loosen up my arms, can I get comfortable?
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| Stay on my tip-toes, old-school Wu beat
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| This is a flip-phone, dude, your slips showin'
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| Where I come from it stays snowin'
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| The grammar is raw, I’m slammin' the door
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| Beez bang bong in your jaw
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| I hit 'em in the head with the hammer of Thor
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| Stars and bars, makes me a general
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| Anything less, makes me a criminal
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| Gotta dig deep for these Wu-Tang minerals
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| G.O.D., shadowbox with the L.O.G.I.C
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| On the count of three, Wu-Tang
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| First, master your breathin'
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| I’m mental ass-whoopin', I’m teachin' when I’m speakin'
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| I’m a champion from Brooklyn
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| I’m movin' super-ninjas and Shaolin executioners
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| Avenger, a righteous defender
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| Grandmaster from the 36th Chamber
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| Toad style is mentally strong, so strengthen your arms
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| To hold my microphone you need iron palms
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| Remain calm, Jamel Irief
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| Wise chief, Wu-Tang poison clansman from the east, yeah
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| Enter a world of a universal mind of one kind
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| A thick swarm of words that’s expressed in one rhyme
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| Food for thought, impossible sliders with the seasoning Regardless,
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| I speak logic—clear reasoning
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| The uncivilized, get the mineral lines, quartz
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| Self-directed, calculated, controlled thoughts
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| A point-of-view of the thinkers
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| Monumental architecture, amazing as the Incas
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| (Sinatra) (Wu-Tang)
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| W.T.C., ah-ha
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| The faculty
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| Ain’t nothin' goin' on, don’t nothin' move
|
| Nobody slide, nobody get hurt |
| En garde, I’ll let you try my Wu tang style
|
| I’d like to try your Wu tang style, let’s begin, then
|
| Shaolin shadowboxing and the Wu tang sword style
|
| If what you say is true, the Shaolin and the Wu Tang could be dangerous
|
| Do you think your Wu Tang sword can defeat me? |