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(feat. Masta Killa, Prodigal Sunn) [Chorus: GZA] This is hip-hop, M.C.'s get busy It's not pop, you'll front and you'll get dropped You're listening to slanged out goodies, and Timberlands and hoodies With the rhythm that came from the streets [GZA] I was a young one at the time, but started Mic Trippin' Had rhythm like Ali, when he was rope skipping I got crazy, when I heard the break beat I used to lose it on niggaz on 4th and Main Street They couldn't stop the attack, once I moved forward Many was drawn back, assault was seen awkward Only armed with the bow, and a mad flow Poisonous arrows on a mark, that was set to go Traveling at high speeds, towards a target I never hit bystanders in crowded markets Documenters catch this most intimate footage In the center they come close, label it the hooded Remarkable clips, of an uncut episode They was given the safe, but never was left the code Close up of those, who have paved the road Invincible armor like that nigga we call The Toad Letras de canciones[Chorus x2] [Prodigal Sunn] Havoc on the block, shots from the ratchet, sizzle pop Slugs spinning outta control, body's drop You know the saying in the hood, fuck the cops Certified on the clock, them ducks with metal glocks It takes place on the planet in rocks Take nothing for granted, raised by these thieves and bandits The enchanted, sticky green keeps my eyes slanted Hard times coming up in the ghetto, but the Sunn manage Watch me take advantage, get it, split it, panoramic The notes I quote, water like the great Atlantic Never catch me frantic, swift with the antics Bitch niggaz vanish, niggaz, they run rapid Sun of a Man, son of the sun, son of a gun Breaded from the slums of each one and teach one What's done is done, son, the game is made Stay sharp like switchblades, continue to get paid [Chorus] [Masta Killa] You know a muthafuckin' hit when it split ya wig back Young Gatling, strapping a .38 revolver It's going down, wait for the sound, my soldiers rally round Ninja men, blending in, with the surrounding 'Nuff gunmen, 'nuff Flatbush yardmen strapped with the vest No pussy test the God, the grounds is well held Illegal desert eagle, cadaver dog Search for the body that's lost, of course, it's BK You heard niggaz got killed for sheik coats and big ropes Legendary students that sold coke, some blocks that's still hot From shots popped back in '88 The black gate where son lay, never made the paper Just another caper pulled by a masked killer, broad day light Crown Heights, some are Fahrenheit, heat blazing Cops on the beat, stop the money flow of the street My dough is whole wheat, the fam gotta eat [Chorus x2] [Outro: GZA samples] [scratched up] "Come On!" [repeated through the scratching] "This is hip-hop" From Letras Mania