This that gravedigger shit (ooh, and no one can fuck with the Wu-Tang)
Yo (what? What?)
Yo
Exotic type shit
Ninety-four
We must go to war fast
With the pen and the pad
Goddamn
Shine like gold rims on Pathfinders
Wu-Tang reclines, lamps
For the nine-sqaures, kid
(Money, clothes, designer hoes and shows, y'all)
Check it

Yo, yo, wakin' up about ten, kid
Jumpin' in the shower, peace about to make
Moves to slide like grease
What? I'm all about TECs and checks with nuff respect
You front, I'm slammin' you like the Lex'
So now I'm out on the ninety-five
Rockin' that real nigga don't die
Guess down, drawers Kani
But, yo, I'm makin' a pit stop
Go and buy a box of Glocks
It equaled up, pay up, what up Ahk?
Yo, remember that kid that we vicked?
He made a half of mil for real, he brought about four bricks
Yo, so now we connect thoughts, meet me at the airport
Tell Golden Arms maintain the fort
Get in touch with that west coast cali crab you stabbed
And meet me at the bitch lab
So word up, kid, we slid like a fat four to twelve bid and shit
Couldn't even rest, I need the vic'
And when I slept, I dream Gs, son
I need some keys won't sell, call up son
I heard Pook and Tyriq caught a beef over some real shit
A fake nigga faked and they killed his clique
Gimme a minute and I'm winnin'
Yo, niggas done did it, rock your vest
Keep your whip tinted
So now we see him up in Bojangles
Stranglin' a forty ounce, with ten Gs worth of gold bangles
Diamonds, what? All up in his face
With his man's mace, medallions the size of dinner plates
Yo, he knew we knew him so we blew him
Took thirty Gs worth of jewels of that nigga, do him
So now I'm lampin' in my man's land
Streets is hot like sand
G's is rollin' in my right hand
Yup, you know the steezo, black
Got to go down like that
Shallah, cigars and ball hats
Ninety-four, takin' niggas to war, yo, yo

What do you believe in? Heaven or hell?
You don't believe in heaven 'cause we're livin' in hell
What do you believe in, boy, Heaven or hell?
You don't believe in Heaven 'cause we're livin' in hell
So it's your life

What a chamber
Fuckin' with mad strangers
Yeah, you know how it runs, baby
Straight up, yo
Money, clothes, designer hoes and shows y'all
That's how it goes, whatever
What do you believe in? Heaven or hell?
You don't believe in Heaven cause we're livin' in hell
(31st chamber, y'all)
So it's your life

Niggas ain't even know son
How it happen so fast
Those were livin' and sold their weight
No question
Shit is real, you know what I'm sayin'?
Word up, niggas thinks it's all about the FILA, velour
That little hundred dollars and that make you a man
You ain't promised tomorrow, son, word up (for real)
Niggas don't understand how life can be so short
Come so fast
Within the blinkin' of eye
Blink of an eye, you're gone, baby, straight up
Know what I'm sayin'?
Get turned to dust
Return to the casket
That ass is out, son, word up
Word up, get evaporated, straight up (word up)
Lose all your strength, nigga
Crazy dedication shoutout in the memory of Two Cent Jason
Heartbroken, we soakin' wet though
Keepin' it real for my peoples
Yeah, yo
And my physical brother DeVon, you're still in here, baby
Because you're in my arms nigga, word up
I never let you go, baby
You know what I'm sayin'? You're my life charm, word up
For real
Keep shinin'
Real keepin it real, you know?
Shout out to major niggas
Big Kawai, Jess, Hell on the computer system
The RZA, who slams fat discs for the ninety-four
Word up, RZA
That's my nigga, baby
Yeah, eatin' dinner with the big boys now
You know what I'm sayin'?
Word up, Big Booth represent the Q
You know how we do,
Now get that power-U type gangster on, you know?
The GZA, word up, Master Killa
The Abbot of the Clan (my man)
Method Man, Inspectah Deck
Dirty Bastard
U-God, word up, baby
Keep it real, son
Keep packin' them guns
Word up

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Alexander Zanetis, Corey Woods, Robert Diggs