Raekwon The Chef
Raekwon The Chef - Guillotinz Swordz lyrics
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Allow me to demonstrate the skill of Shaolin The special technique of shadowboxing Poisonous poisonous (word word word) I should slap all y'all niggaz for coming in my fuckin face with that shit Alright cool yeah go ahead man... Poisonous Verse One: Inspectah Deck a.k.a. Rebel INS Poisonous paragraphs smash ya phonograph in half it be the Inspectah Deck on the warpath First class leavin mics with a cast Causin ruckus like the aftermath when guns blast Run fast, here comes the verbal assaulta Rhymes runnin wild like a child in a walker I scored from the inner slums abroad And my thoughts are razor sharp I sliced the mic from the cord First they criticize, but now they have become mentally paralyzed with hits that I devise Now I testify, the rest is I, Rebel INS Ya highness, blessed to electrify with voltage of an eel, truth that I reveal'll crush the amateurs who screamed to keep it real Caesar black down hoodied up and fatigues Part time minor leagues receive third degrees Attack like a wolf pack, once I pull back then guard you, and bust through like a fullback Verse Two: Ghostface Killer a.k.a. Tony Starks Yo, you fourteen carat gold slum computer wizard Tappin inside my rap vein causes blizzards Do I like the kills for ice trife like botta digits Gorillas injected with strength of eighty midgets The Earth spins ruins, rap exotic blends Let my peeps in, niggaz gaspin swallowin aspirins What a dosage, you overdosed in rap High explosives my post-its hypnotize with hypnosis I sell goods, my whole Clan is on the run like Natural Born Killers Record-breaking the album Thriller Now access the jig who has bombs and rocket launchers Float like dope killer bees is what I sponsor Ya entrepeneur, pens and gear like shakespeare When I fuck I grab hair, collect drawers as souveneirs Fuck yeah, my crew down German beers My career is based on guns, throwin cats in wheelchairs Etcetera, damage any lame ass competitor Who try to front, get broken and passed like leathers Whatever hot hardheads get shattered like mirrors Beretta shots splatter your goose, scatter ya feathers Say never poetry chumps crumbs deal with graphic Blew my family overseas in mansions If rap was crack, fully packed I be tour cats Tax the kingpin of the rap drug traffickin Village niggaz get slapped in Manhattan for rappin, big Ghost steps off laffin (Were you just using the Wu-Tang school method against me? I've learned so many styles, forgive me) Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef a.k.a. Lou Diamonds Sit back relax, fake niggaz don't get turns Watch me massage ya brain with slang that's king Projects filled with young men cause threats Who is that? Thousand dollar chains and techs Focus, the brokest niggaz of life shit These mics is like cocaine Sun, check the suicidal hype shit Exchange mad blunts taste the sweepstakes Keepin up on fakes outta state for cakes No doubt, plus nobody amount, we making dough off of Puttin fifty on the Land and Allah, it's like that Pull ya shoes up black, matta of fact just adapt Tie up, ya black Nike's and tight hats Corners, stay surrounded with foreigners Whattup dread? Feds caught you grudgin for his bread But regardless, peace to jail niggaz with charges Unify layin in the guard with La My Clan done ran from Japan to Atlanta, with stamina Clingers and gamblers, and gram handlers Tical like the Isle, so God, let's get steamed Infrared guard yo' Beem, so seek nuff respect Rude bwoy you bet, keep it movin par shallah Pro black like tar Designin the fly shit and stay shinin and the RZA pours more beats than Cristal's fine wine Concrete raps go to black with 50 other niggaz on the other side of the map Knew it's all good and all done what, we want some Mike Tyson of this rap shit, pullin out Macs for fun Verse Four: The Genius/GZA a.k.a. Maximillion The nigga don't get mad, I got mad styles of my own And it's shown when my hands grip the chrome microphone Verbally I catch bodies with cordless shotties Intriguin emcees, I keep em trained like potties I bomb facts, my sword is an axe to split backs invisible, like dope fiend tracks Sky's the limit, niggaz are timid, and nobody knows How we move like wolfs in sheep clothes Producin data, microchips or software Undaground and off air, the Land of the Lost Notorious henchman from the North Strikin niggaz where the Mason-Dixon line crossed