I remember
Not too long ago
I went to a city
And I saw a Wu-Tang show
Now I always wanted
To get, with, the band

But niggas was singin' they own songs
Bein' in they own worlds
So I guess I, I guess I
The terminology, the psychology
You still expect me to accept
Do what I say off of TV, kay
With the button on record and the other on
Thus I press pause for a serious cause
To respect an intellect with this gratifying
Now that I'm ready let the music begin
As I detect what I wrote with my
Through the time that I spent, money that I lent
Rap records went up just to bounce
Then became a new way to get paid
They said "Rhymin' on the mic is the number one"
Then a brother get the feeling that he want to play cool
You discombobulated diabolical fool
Hog-flesh MC, go play in the mud
Another 20th century, modern day
Cannibal, humanoid, underground
Chud broke loose from the goddamn
Dope-fiend addict why you walk with
Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome
When the MC's came, to live out their name
Roast rockin' rhymes that was always
When I elevated, and mastered the time
You was stimulated from the high post
You got shot cause you knew you were rot

You're not the king of the diss
Youse a queen of a bitch
And like a homosexual
Your ass always switch
Niggas wake up in the morning
You ugly-ass Gods
Got slob around your mouth
Blue code in your eye
You can't smile your teeth too gritty
Can't even move, drawers too shitty
(You know what else) You're shaped like a thistle
The holes in your drawers when you fuck been there since
You duckin' suckin' motherfuckin' cold hearted faggot
Sperm germs on your worm disintegrated maggots
Repeat your rhymes all the time like a fuckin' parrot
Phony gold chains only rated two carats
You tell your friends that your home is like heaven
Livin' in the gutter sewer seven pipe eleven
You wear your socks twelve days in a row
Turn them on the other side so the dirt won't show
Go to school, take a shit, don't wipe your ass
Claimin' on another sucka nigga in your class
You wanna battle?
Is it the pork on your fork, or the swine on your mind
Make you rap against a brother with a weak-ass rhyme
Swine on your mind, pork on your fork
Make you imitate the brother in the state of New York
Chain on your brain, that drove you insane
When you tried to claim, for the talent and the fame
Not in the game, yet and still you came
Suffer the pain, as I demolish your name
Not like Betty Crocker, baking cake in the OV
Sayin' this is dedicated to the one I love
Not a swine or dove, from the heaven's up above
When I rap, people clap, so the pushers they shove
When I rhyme I get loose, better than Mother Goose
Rock the mic day and night, so you see I'm the juice
Like the two-six-eight, politicians demonstrate

Now hold up hold up hold up hold up
What y'all niggas don't seem to hear
Is y'all can not fuck with me
I said
All
Can't fuck with me

I wanna give a shout out to my nigga Door, Door, Door
Buddah Monk, Buddah Monk, Buddah Monk
Yo, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack
For the niggas who's here
And the girls who's out there
Throw your hands in the air
'Cause this one is more fly
Fly, fly
Fly, fly
Fly
Bzzt
Woo!

Get your ass in the house boy, I told you
Get your ass in the house! Get, get, in the god damn house boy!
Last fuckin' time I'm gonna talk to you you hard-headed motherfucker

Come on daddy?
I didn't mean nothin' by it
But when it come to, fuckin' with you MC's

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Russell Jones