[Intro: Ras Kass & Scaramanga Allah]
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Sham's nine times ultra
Wu-Tang herbs two times great, you heard of me
Nigga, L.A.D., six times ill
Rest in peace O.D.B
La the Dark, Sun large
GZA, Ras Kass, yeah what's up, Wu-Universal
Legendary
[Verse 1: Scaramanga Shallah]
Now it's the real beginning of the pages of Shams
Spit that heat rock that make fiends make vapors of grams
Sham's is the greatest fan, rock big tables at Sands
Bally’s, and Trumps, I got the MAC-10
We can hit the alley with iron and thumper
Take it to the hands like the brand new Leonard
Niggas going no mas, when the bullets go in him
You dealing with a night stick toker
The ice pick poker, trust you ain't like this joker
And the set, devoted to opening your neck
With the TEC, as you sit in a Lex'
Your next move, is slipping, your last move is shitting
As your body gets soft, the shotty went off
Little soldiers, you're out of position
Guns go off, Shams is a Raiders fan
A rhyming gallop reporter, columns are lost
White five, black five with dollars to toss
Twisted by the dark side of the force
Black biscuit, by park side in a Porsche, you're off sides in the fort
We are survivors of the war of good and evil
I'm in the hood, in the hood with a Desert Eagle
With my Brooklyn peoples, now feel it
[Verse 2: La the Darkman]
Darkman, my persona's like Tony Montana
How he used to sniff coke, how I puff marijuana
Try, play me today, I'ma kill you mañana
From, far with the K, or up close with the llama
I'm like an African king in a castle in Ghana
Chest dripping with jewels, one hell of a rhymer
Study lessons in Medina, building with an old timer
So I, always been wise ever since a young minor
Get cream by any means, follow Malcolm X theme
So I'm often posted, in a window with that thing
Got unlimited support from the Sing-Sing regime
I'm Hannibal Smith and they like the A-Team
Keep my head on the swivel, when I serve a dope fiend
Upgraded, to a digital, from a triple beam
Fucking with me, you better be real as you can be
La Trapacandi, a well known rhyme general
[Verse 3: Ras Kass]
Who say Ras Kass don't spit fire, he a liar
That's like your favorite rap star claiming he gon' retire
When you mention me, not about penitentiary
Wins and rhyme skills, both twenty second century
Ahead of my time, school niggas like Timbuktu
'Cause I'm original, like Black Falasha Jews
Velours by BUFU: Buy Us, Fuck you
Try us, fuck you, you die
Y'all got gats but him buck too, nigga
Sip the Grey Goose and ponder, then order room service in Hotel Rwanda
Reminder to honor these street scholars
Who ask why U.S. Defense is twenty percent of the tax dollar
Bush gave 6.46 billion to Halliburton
For troops support efforts in Iraq
Meanwhile, the hood is hurting, please believe that
The rape over, Chaney talking, $25 for a case of soda
Draining tax payers, eighty five thousand dollar oil filters
But won't pay they soldiers, Halliburton workers make $14,000 a month, privates earn thirteen g's a year
Plus 225 extra, taking fire in combat
Recruit all the niggas, that die from where I'm at
18 years olds told to kill, where Saddam at
But can't have a gat, to protect where my Mom's at
I love to crunk, so what, plus I'm gangsta enough
To piss in Pimpin Ken's, pimp cup, rack a gauge and pump it up
Hot bitches still get fucked, niggas just want a forty and a blunt
[Verse 4: GZA]
Yo, these youngsters they grow up on the block
With the product in they socks and the fully loaded Glocks
Too many die in vain, and it's a crying shame
The murders and the hustles, won't stop as they shoot for the top
Acquiring power through growth and development
On their most dangerous missions, excuses were irrelevant
The brutality of war, never changes
And the out of control desire to win, makes it dangerous
Fire engulfed the set, they feel the threat
Greater than what they ever had, experienced yet
Indictments, sparked excitement, and the thrill to kill
Suddenly they felt the need for a challenge and they feel
The great boundaries of both man and machine
Can have one at the point, to murder all in between
Yellow tape scene, dead teen, the mob was his idol
Giving a grim new meaning to the neighborhood's title
What's up?
