Yo yo  yall niggas talk rubbish  we Wu Tang publish
 (Yall niggas try to dub this the Gods serving justice)
 Yall niggas talk rubbish  we Wu Tang publish
 (Yall niggas try to dub this
 the Gods serving justice  with ruckus
 Killarmy  we put the mic on the crutches)

 [P.R. Terrorist]
 Apocalypse at my finter tips
 Sense ya tight grip exit a clip
 Fill with engraved initials of lyrical nondescripts
 On my hitlist, terrorist tartest, I never miss
 Strike a bullseye, say bonzai and ball my fist

 [Killa Sin]
 Yo I could pull da livest shit
 hang-gliding off the side of a cliff
 Country western bitch been known
 to chokehold on my dick
 Roll a spliff the size of dynamite sticks
 Sideswipe you and the mic boot
 Strike you till you yodle or ya name miss
 Make ya brain shift like earthquake plates in Vegas
 North Flake kicks, guaranteed dat ass a free face lift
 Crack ya jaw in three different places
 leave you speechless

 [P.R. Terrorist]
 Speak with a lisp
 Lyrics of force'll skip ya disk
 Shuffle your track, bring ya shit back
 then make ya piss
 thoughts of suicide, razor blade pressed against ya wrist
 Vocals bangin' off da walls of ya drums
 You can't resist
 Sudden impact, yeah jetblack
 Shine like Shalack
 Flashdance on 4th Disciple tracks,
 They off the meat rack
 The combinations's like one in a million
 Puerto Rican quarter bizillion
 Seven wise men making a killing
 In this rapworld, shattering niggas like glass buildings
 When my wind blow, you crabs move slow
 Murder you dolo, take ya heads off
 Riding a horse like playing polo

 [Killa Sin]
 I flow faster than Skolettos
 Used to hesitate to let go
 Now my darts echo for blocks
 and travel north rapidly like Metro
 Clap happy, rap cat get at me, wit ya faculty
 See half of them is petro, or deadly
 like fat ass is in the sex so
 Ya buttersoft, sweet talking, sweet walking
 niggas get ya neck broke for asking
 See I aim kid and my A stay missing in action
 Fire back when niggas start clapping
 Make it happen

 Chorus: P.R. Terrorist (9th Prince)

 Yall niggas talk rubbish, we Wu-Tang publish
 (Yall niggas try to dub this the Gods serving justice)
 Yo, yall niggas talk rubbish, we Wu-Tang publish
 (Yall niggas try to dub this
 the Gods serving justice, with ruckus
 Killarmy, we put the mic on the crutches)

 [9th Prince]
 I use niggas for target practice
 This year I plan to fuck the baddest actress
 On my waterbed Wu mattress
 I'm from the tribe of Shabazz, your alpine endurance
 Rhyme insurance, was stolen by the thief of Bagdad
 It's the world's greatest soundscanner
 Whose elbows is made of steel like Tito Santana
 The God's voicebox connects with high frequencies,
 Satellites and antennas, Prince Saddam is
 Shaolin's Highlander, with Evander Holyfield stamina
 I'll punch a hole in ya stomach, snatch out ya liver
 Wrap ya body in a plastic bag, and tell my fans
 My new dance is "Dead Man Floating In A River"
 my Kodak thoughts, picture dark, clear visions
 like transition lenses
 I rose with the illest, cross ya fingers
 you superstitious
 I'll still murder your ass, with influence
 of insanity conditions
 RZA and 4th Disciple tracks, make me wanna grab an axe
 Prince Saddam's a lyrical lumberjack
 A broken brawler, nighttime stalker, creepy crawler
 With a sawed-off shottie, rock the party,
 Go stick up the lobby

 Chorus: P.R. Terrorist (9th Prince)

 Yo yo, yall niggas talk rubbish, we Wu-Tang publish
 (Yall niggas try to dub this the Gods serving justice)
 Yall niggas talk rubbish, we Wu-Tang publish
 (Yall niggas try to dub this
 the Gods serving justice, with ruckus
 Killarmy, we put the mic on the crutches