(feat. Busta Rhymes)





[Intro: Raekwon]

Come on, man, you a wild dude, Chef

Talk to them niggas, man, stop playing, man

For real, man



[Raekwon:]

Redskin leather, Indian sex

Pair of fresh Mocs on, lighting Lear on my flesh

Let my arm roll, fresh off the honor roll, platinum bottles of Cru'

All my niggas do what I got 'em for

Extra flashy grind, hit 'em with a crisp rhyme

Lines is nothing, blunt out, fuck him

All we know is jewelry and I mashed that, everybody excited

To see whatever bling on, smash that

Clever, more like a fox and ox together

Two stainless glocks, rocks and a feather

Yeah, I'm from the lead era, shoot at

Anything that move, and move out America

And all we ever want is needed, seen it

Like a young Filipino in Kuwait getting treated

Heavy horror armor, spike a bitch like her

Half a pound of good weed, then float through Gowanus

Brilliant master, sixteenth chapel in the Apple

Flooded up, Warridge wackos

Park Hillians getting hillions, that means millions

All on feet like Nigerian



[Busta Rhymes:]

Shallah, I got 'em

Heat-seeking missile spit, don't even try to hide, nigga

Sizzle through your skin bars, call me cyanide, bitch

Try me if you want, homey, violation's a no-no

I am the health hazard, skull & bone, poisonous logo

Unleash the dragon, massacre the scene

I'm spitting, burn a hole through the speaker,

And start melting the street up

Somebody please call the fire department

And I'm a strong believer,

Ya'll know that I ain't the one to start with

Cause once the fuse is lit and we strike a match and the spark smell

My fangs bleed and we nam them up like ox tail

Ya'll see what's happening, ya'll know what the truth is

Somebody please ask Shallah Rae why he making me do this

Cause once I finish dudes, it's unfortunate for them yappers

Throw them in the trash, they ain't no recycling bin for rappers

I microphone control, it's the current dominant factor

The records been bodied, I personally request the pastor, gone