my wings are like this. all my words on his lips. . and my brain is on edge. i'm next to the bed. where i saw you. . my weight is like his. we both lost what we kissed.
You're bad news. Or so I'm told by the women that you knew. I've tried and I failed to share you. Heart breaker. That's what you see when you look in the mirror.
Intro:. . One two one two check one two. The Genius in the place to be. . Verse One:. . I make the mic pump my mic makes the party jump. And poison beats make hip-hoppers stump.
Who's your rhymin' hero. . I use lyrics versatile, beat up, on any style. Treat em like stepchilds and smile. I grab the mic then I check one two. Brother's look, yo what he's gonna do.
Chorus:. . What are silly girls made of made of. What are silly girls made of. A neck full of gold, material things huh. That's what silly girls are made of.
[Chorus: Joan Davis]. Just another victim of the... victim of the ghetto. Just Another victim, that's how it goes, ooh. . [GZA]. Heavy foot traffic jam the hallway all day.
(featuring La The Darkman, Ras Kass & Scaramanga Shallah). . [Intro: Ras Kass (Scaramanga Allah)]. Yeah (yeah) yeah (Sham's nine times ultra). Wu-Tang (herbs three times great, you heard of me).
What you know about I'm sayin'. I know a lot. Can you demonstrate something?. Why not?. I'm speaking about stacks, GZA. That's all I got. The raw un-cut material.
CHORUS:. I rock the mic at any party. And in the place to be. I'm a true, true fresh MC. I'm a true fresh MC. . I work real hard to achieve my goal. From building and bringing out my true inner soul.
Those were the days, back in Junior High. For an 8th grader, my style was kinda fly. And just to prove I was an MC Pro. I often sponsored a classroom show.
What I'm about to flow on is so dope. The average hip hop fiend couldn't cope. Or explain my style because it's hard to define. So the fiend scratch and think and nod to the rhyme.
When a motherfucker steps out his place. And gets slapped in his motherfuckin face. Just because the motherfucker tried to base. The G.O.D., the G.O.D.
I hopped on the train and cold clocked a chick. Who looked good as hell but she appeared to be sick. I would say she had to look as if she swallowed a worm.
[Method Man]. Uh, and it goes like this. Uh uh uh uh, it goes like that. Now let me tell you who I am. Up early in the morning, dressed in black. Who dat? *echoes*.
I see youngsters little teenagers. Walking around with beepers and pagers. And who's beeping them? Oh it's the boss. Making sure no one is taking a loss.
Yo, check this shit out. . Hangin' out in bars can become no joke. When you start to drinkin' gin, rum, Bacardi and coke. Or Martini and Rossi, Asti Spumante.
[GZA]. Throw down ya mic son, ya gauge is empty. Plus the wack shit in the game might tempt me. Quickly drop non-stop rec shot. What I took on the road on the lap and desktop.
[GZA]. Designer and most of man. stands the front-end loader. hold enough weight that'll compensate the share-holders. Powerful motor controls are mad stable.
Yeah, six o'clock in the morning. That's right, we gotta get this darts right. Spray y'all niggas on some marksman shit. . Yes, I said, "Look, I got ready to graze.
(Special technique). Fuck that. (Special technique of shadowboxin'). God damn. . (The GZA, god damn). (The GZA, god damn). Pledge allegiance to the hip-hop.