To blow a nigga up, with my Five Fingers of Death I bring it to his whole damn fam, understand If he frontin, on any man down with the Clan I be comin, for that headpiece you can´t cope For my brother, I even kill a Pope, word to mother Serial, killa, style from the Isle of Stat My peoples are you with me where you at? Shit´s gettin deep in here, I mean like thick Niggas lookin all in my face like they want dick It´s about to hit the fan, hit the flo´ That´s all I can stands, and I can´t stands no mo´ What is it? Niggas think they bigga Because they got the finga on the trigga of a biscuit They don´t know I´m wicked, when I start to kick it
With the raw sound, wash it down with a Mystic Better yet a Snapple, nigga want the juice But he don´t want the hassle Thought they trying to overthrow the castle Better yet the temple, I´m comin to your town Black down, the rental, car, the pistol YAH! If you don´t want a burn from Glock Then beware, I buck shots, meaning what, the buck stops Here, no more dough will be made Unless it´s being made by who... the 1-6-Ooh Chamber four (1-6-Ooh) Chamber four Temple number nine, temple number nine
I´m the original G-O-D Making young ladies scream is my specialty
When I go ooh-wah, ooh-wah, ooh-wah, girls wanna get hype From the funky fresh music that was stereotyped When I kill, that ol´ mad rugged flow Not sayin Ason, is like a duck of disco Or a disco duck, I´m strictly hip hop Yo, Ason, what´s up? I can´t stop... Wu-Tanging, flipping the script and You could test my skills, but niggas must be trippin Coked up from sniffin, you´re the one who´s riffin I´m not Opie, save that old shit for Andy Griffith You start to flip, now ya slip, cuz you´re slippin While you sleep I be the God on point, like Scottie Pippen
As I, jump on stage, cold flip a rip a show Strip or rip a ho, ready like Bo Jackson while I´m still taxin, I´m maxin Relaxin, sittin backs and, laying tracks and Again and again when I rock this jam I wanna see ´em up in the air, throw up your hand Introducin, the one-man band A child that´s wild, now with the style, couldn´t stand Niggas wanna jump, then stepped, to the center Of the rhyme inventor, MC tormentor You get jacked and slapped, across the MC map I laugh at ya ass, on a horse shack Come on through I black and blue your whole crew Then I get rudie with the Hong Kong Phooey The Ol´ Dirty Bastard, MC killer Money maker, Brooklyn, Shaolin style That I lay down like tile
Gotta hit you up, one blaow, so you better come down...