You're a crossbreed, I'm a knowledge seed
I want action, that's what I need
I never put doubt in my mind
'Cause I know when I touch the mic there's the rhyme
See murder which is caused
When you fuck with the negative and positive charge
Then they came up, out my garage
With the hit that's gonna be large
Tired of sittin' on my fuckin' ass
Niggas I know, be runnin' around with mad fuckin' cash
Who the fuck wanna be an emcee
If you can't get paid, to be a fuckin emcee?
I came out my momma pussy I'm on welfare
Twenty-six years old still on welfare
So I gotta get paid fully
Whether it's truthfully or untruthfully
With my boston bloodthirsty process
P-e-a-c-e

Move 'em in move 'em in
Move 'em out move 'em out
Stick it up raw hide

Yea, gotta come back to attack
Killin' niggas who said they got stacks, 'cause I don't give a fuck
I wanna see blood, whether it's period blood
Or bustin' your fuckin' face, some blood
I'm goin' out my fuckin' mind
Every time I get around devils
Let me calm down, you niggas better start runnin'
'Cause I'm comin', I'm dope like fuckin' heroin
Wu-tang bloodkin', a goblin, who come tough like lambskin
Imagine, gettin 'shot up with ol dirty insulin
You bound to catch aids or somethin'
Not sayin' I got it, but nigga if I got it you got it
What

Yo, check the bulletproof fly shit, strong like thai stick
Then I'll remain to tear your frame, while I freaks it
Like some fly new sneaks and shit
Now eat my shit, bitch tried to creep and got hit
Now regulate, and I'll be out to set up a date
Wu-tang, is bangin' like a ron g tape
Rza pump the shit just like a shotty
Watch me run it john gotti
Collidin' on the track, like gin and watty
Check the calender, I warn any challenger
To step up feel the blast from the silencer

Move 'em in move 'em in
Move 'em out move 'em out
Stick it up raw hide

Comin' soon to a theatre near you it be the wu
Yeah find yourself in the square and see it's true
Actual facts to snack on and chew
My positive energy sounds peace to you
A wise man killed one horse and made glue
Wicked women puttin' period blood in stew
Don't that make the stew witches brew?
I fear for the eighty-five that don't got a clue
How could he know what the fuck he never knew?
God-cypher-divine come to show and come to prove
A mystery god that's the work of yacub
The holy ghost got you scared to death kid boo

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Clifford Smith, Corey Woods, Robert Diggs, Russell Jones