*featuring RZA, Inspector Deck, Street Thug
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[Intro: RZA (singing by Blue Raspberry)]
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[bees buzzing]
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[man screaming in torture]
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This is... (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
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Serious, the craziest... d-da, (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) day-da
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Danger, dangerous... style
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[Verse One: RZA]
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Lyrical shots from the glock
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bust bullet holes on the chops, I want the number one spot
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With the science, of a giant
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New York defiant, brutal like domestic violence
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Silence of the Lambs, o-ccured when I slammed in
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Foes grab their chairs, to be mad as Ralph Cramden
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Others come with shit, as silly as Art Carney
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But my Tetley triplizes, more kids than Barney
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Never need for stress there's three bags of sess
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a damn I rest, playing chess, yes
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My thoughts be sneaky like a crook from Brooklyn
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When you ain't lookin, I take the queen, with the rook then
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I get vexed, layin phat trax on Ampex
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Morphous God, gettin drunk, off a Triple X
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Violent time, I got more love than valentines
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The violent mind, I blast with a silent nine
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[Verse Two: Inspector Deck]
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My hazardous thoughts to cut the mic's life support short
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Brains get stained like tablecloths when I let off
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Powerful, poetry pushed past the point of no return
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Leavin mics with third-degree burns
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Let me at 'em, I cramp your style like a spasm
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Track em through the mud then I bag em
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We're screaming hardcore, hip-hop drips out my balls
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and I be raw, for four score plus seven more
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I strike like a bowling ball, holding y'all hostage
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like hail, electrifying the third rail
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Peep the smash on paragraphs of ruckus
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Wu-Tang (Clan ain't nuttin ta fuck wit)
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[Verse Three: Method Man]
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Hot time, summer in the city
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My people represent, get busy
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The heat-seeker, on a mission from hell's kitchen
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I gets in where I fits in for head-touchin, listen
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Enemy, is the industry got me flippin
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I don't give a fuck tell that bitch and a nigga
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I'm killin, snipin, catchin murder cases
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Desert Storm-in, I be searchin for oasis
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As I run a mile with a racist
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Pullin, swords, hit the Billboard with a bullet
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Peace to the number seven
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Everybody else get the fo'-nine-three-eleven
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(Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
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I don't know what's going on
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if you can take us there...
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[Verse Four: Street Thug]
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Yo, watch me bang the headpiece there's no survival
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My flow lights up the block like a homicidal
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murder, underground beef for the burger
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P.L.O., criminal thoughts you never heard of
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I switch, the city never sleeps, life's a bitch
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I shit, runnin through bitches like Emmitt Smith
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Caution, niggaz best to be careful crossin
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the street, before they end up layin in a coffin
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Don't sleep, niggaz tend to forget, however
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Peep this -- my nigga Case lives forever
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[Verse Five: Carlton Fisk]
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What evil lurks in the heart of men?
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It be the shadow, street-life, flowin again
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I had a plot, scheme, I knew for sure
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Only one kid would knock the hinges off the door
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The jerk tried to jet, Sabrina at his neck
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Thirteen pounds on the table plus a tec
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Just when I said, "Where the fuck's the cream?"
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Another jerk came out the kitchen with the M-16
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He tried to cock it, blast these shots like, rockets
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Crushed his collarbone, ripped his arm out the socket
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My move for the table was swift, I got my hostage
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(The nigga tried to stab you God!) but I dodged it
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Niggaz said, "Carlton youse a ill motherfucker"
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Cause I made it look like they both killed each other
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And I'm out
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(Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
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(Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
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-----------------
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Mr. Sandman
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Method Man |