Intro: RZA (singing by Blue Raspberry)
 *bees buzzing*
 *man screaming in torture*

 This is... (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
 Serious  the craziest
 ... d da  (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) day da
 Danger  dangerous... style

 Verse One: RZA

 Lyrical shots from the glock
 bust bullet holes on the chops  I want the number one spot
 With the science, of a giant
 New York defiant, brutal like domestic violence
 Silence of the Lambs, o-ccured when I slammed in
 Foes grab their chairs, to be mad as Ralph Cramden
 Others come with shit, as silly as Art Carney
 But my Tetley triplizes, more kids than Barney
 Never need for stress there's three bags of sess
 a damn I rest, playing chess, yes
 My thoughts be sneaky like a crook from Brooklyn
 When you ain't lookin, I take the queen, with the rook then
 I get vexed, layin phat trax on Ampex
 Morphous God, gettin drunk, off a Triple X
 Violent time, I got more love than valentines
 The violent mind, I blast with a silent nine

 Verse Two: Inspector Deck

 My hazardous thoughts to cut the mic's life support short
 Brains get stained like tablecloths when I let off
 Powerful, poetry pushed past the point of no return
 Leavin mics with third-degree burns
 Let me at 'em, I cramp your style like a spasm
 Track em through the mud then I bag em
 We're screaming hardcore, hip-hop drips out my balls
 and I be raw, for four score plus seven more
 I strike like a bowling ball, holding y'all hostage
 like hail, electrifying the third rail
 Peep the smash on paragraphs of ruckus
 Wu-Tang (Clan ain't nuttin ta fuck wit)

 Verse Three: Method Man

 Hot time, summer in the city
 My people represent, get busy
 The heat-seeker, on a mission from hell's kitchen
 I gets in where I fits in for head-touchin, listen
 Enemy, is the industry got me flippin
 I don't give a fuck tell that bitch and a nigga
 I'm killin, snipin, catchin murder cases
 Desert Storm-in, I be searchin for oasis
 As I run a mile with a racist
 Pullin, swords, hit the Billboard with a bullet
 Peace to the number seven
 Everybody else get the fo'-nine-three-eleven
 (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
 I don't know what's going on
 if you can take us there...

 Verse Four: Street Thug

 Yo, watch me bang the headpiece there's no survival
 My flow lights up the block like a homicidal
 murder, underground beef for the burger
 P.L.O., criminal thoughts you never heard of
 I switch, the city never sleeps, life's a bitch
 I shit, runnin through bitches like Emmitt Smith
 Caution, niggaz best to be careful crossin
 the street, before they end up layin in a coffin
 Don't sleep, niggaz tend to forget, however
 Peep this -- my nigga Case lives forever

 Verse Five: Carlton Fisk

 What evil lurks in the heart of men?
 It be the shadow, street-life, flowin again
 I had a plot, scheme, I knew for sure
 Only one kid would knock the hinges off the door
 The jerk tried to jet, Sabrina at his neck
 Thirteen pounds on the table plus a tec
 Just when I said, "Where the fuck's the cream?"
 Another jerk came out the kitchen with the M-16
 He tried to cock it, blast these shots like, rockets
 Crushed his collarbone, ripped his arm out the socket
 My move for the table was swift, I got my hostage
 (The nigga tried to stab you God!) but I dodged it
 Niggaz said, "Carlton youse a ill motherfucker"
 Cause I made it look like they both killed each other
 And I'm out

 (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
 (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream