| Interlude-
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| (, You know they’re killers themselves, People die
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| for them. |
| You know, guys that I fooled with were killers themselves
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| These are the men who lead the crime families of America. |
| I control 26,000
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| men. |
| Except for dope, we operate in all aspects of organized crime. |
| And if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that drugs destroy your mind. |
| And destroy
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| your home. |
| In the end it’ll only lead our country into ruin)…
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| GHOSTFACE KILLAH-
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| We eat fish, tossed salads and make rap ballads
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| The biochemical slang lord’ll throw the arrows in the dope fiend
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| Vocal chords switch laser beams my triple sevens
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| Broke the slot machines out in Queens, Grey Poupon is rebel on rap
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| Smack on, swing like batons, most want niggas smoked like Hilshire Farms
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| Check the gun we sew, underneath my shoe lies the tap
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| That attract bow-legged bitches with wide horse gaps
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| In steel mills iron he’ll smoke the blow on Duns
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| You run heroins, Primatine mist is afraid of my lungs
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| Turn my channel, it’ll blow your whole bench off the panel
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| Like 80 roman candles that backfired then slammed you
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| Every day is like a video shoot, check this shit
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| I take you back to Playboy, stash guns and whips
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| Picture afro, big shish-ka-bobs and daishikis
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| 1000 civil marched blazed their fists in early sixties
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| CAPPADONNA-
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| Now check this one, you must have been stupid to miss this one
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| 'Donna shogunnin’flip a ton of fashion
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| Destination be the cash when I step past one
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| Don’t make me blast one, I’m cold like eskimo flow
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| Cappadonna stay chillin’take shots of penicillin
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| Clean out and let the steam out, she fiend to blow out
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| But I’m equipped with mad white, Morris The Rap got nine lives
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| I’ll take a few hundred-thousand dollar dives
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| and then I still never go down
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| Until the last round I shine,
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| when RZA do his thing motherfucka, I’ma do mine
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| RAEKWON-
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| Now, where I come from cats be carryin’Marryin’drug money
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| Fuck up your wife, get four to life, claim we handling
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| Midtown niggers scramblin', moving examine the fly shit
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| Plus quick to buy shit Chef, yeah, you know the whole gods
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| Asterick, Fidel Castro suits plus depositin’cash rule big time
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| Play it like Canadian wine, RZA 's the rhyme now, the sacredness of one’s true mind Now let’s get colorful like money green
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| High roller coaster, Sosa, million dollar nigger roaster
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| Yeah, GOD, be havin’my whole steez laced
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| now let’s wrap our tapes, connect dots
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| aim Glocks train style, Figaro fly jewel
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| Tri-color Cubans swervin we’ll pow with Germans in Suburbans
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| 24 niggas with vests’s on, my own restaurant
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| Dons sendin’my sons membership forms
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| They still gettin’this paper scraper
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| Fake haters from Jamaica, wizards be passin like Lakers
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| And if you comin’from Lex, Lewis, Rich Liberace
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| Fetus style and block your goals like hockey… |