Lyrical Swords (Clean) - GZA, Ras Kass, GZA (of Wu-Tang Clan)

Uh, Dreddy Kruger, what up, my nigga?

Yeah, GZA, you know, uh, Rassy, you know

Shouts out to my nigga Wreckonize, all my MIA

Formed in very a strong advanced post, east to west coast

Ahead of time, competition not even half close

Let’s say, by no means, an equal value

Prematurely brought to play, I’ll never allow you

To strike first, so precautions must be taken

And what’s worst?

When you’re just fronting and faking

It’s a shame when the sixteen bars are just a waste

And every line or word, is badly placed

Even dealing with the narrow window of time

My arrangements are quick, shutting down your power lines

On a bunch of small puppets, with a wack ass team

That only move, at a push of a button that pull strings

Bad boys move in silence, secretly fading in

Unlike fake gangstas and ya wannabe made men

Acting like they carry the gun that killed Lincoln

Or they rolling with two hundred murderers from Kingston

Our goal is to learn y’all niggas, about this new world order

But I’m still try’nna run up in the president’s daughters

He the author, ain’t let the NARC’s see this sparker

Stick to bitches walls like I’m Peter Parker

The Vida Guerra sidekick hacker

Five naked flicks, on the Internet jacked her

Dog, I’m not a rapper, I’m the black Dracula

Nosferatu, spitting darts at you, out of black Acura

Homies is gat packers, rat packer

Fly nigga, I’m the Benjamin stack attractor

Mack attacker, pimp slapper, the track cracker

Epitome of nice, after Rainbo press the lacquer

And y’all niggas is the worst, like fat chicks with little tits

If your names not YKK, then get off my dick

Bitch, I hang with the trillest, and that’s why 5 percenters

College kids and ex-felons feel us

I’m sick with the words, Waterproof and Liquid Swords

The world never heard this before, call me Mr. More

More money, more murder, and more spit to serve