There was a clubhouse, only kept special guests in Place much darker than the room I rest in Creepy spot where the dust covers the floor And some fishin
Speakin' of this art form, the slang is dangerous MC's are like sperm cells, a gang of us Fightin' to reach the egg, bikin' and lose a leg Odds are like
Pro tools Took her off the showroom floor no money down Near the Chrysler buildin' in the heart of Midtown Two hundred horse-power under the hood Junk
my own lifetime from one rhyme That was specially designed from the hook to bottom line Shines like a precious jewel, cut up in the workshop With specialized handcrafted tools
What goes around, comes around In his own iniquity he dies, through Columbian ties Faded back to the essence, still forced to learn a lesson All debts
I'm in the schoolyard rhymin' with my brother Jamel and Ra' Allah Vibe and took the beat and imaginin' how far The sound travel at the turn of the volume
quarter most raw, absorb the quotes For sure I'm the cure, and this more than those Yeah, I'm from the bottom but I look forward to gross [Chorus: GZA
He was raised in a house where he got scared of attention Twisted yet methodical mind, not to mention Circus like atmosphere, story book upbringin' Neighborhood
I got scientist killas that'll jam your cell phone Send a text message, kill you off with a ringtone High pitched noise on your brain, it's heavy Autopsy
He's runnin' in a short race, shoelace untied Head down, facial expression he can't hide Kid with no direction, seems confused A victim who spent years
The echo chamber enhance the flow with the block party Keep an MC head spinnin' like Dark Bacardi, this BAC is 2.3 Now the liver's damaged, but his lungs
You ever seen someone who roll With Mayweather, rhyme like Ricky Hatton Smash whatever you throw, a thousand is what I'm battin' Got a few hooks with
