Yo, check it out son   Yo, live in the place to be   You got the capital G   G to the A M C   Givin a mad shout out to the Ranch Crew from the old school   And we gonna take y'all back, knowhat I'msayin?   Lyrical sorcerers right here, the fathers, the cream of the crop son      Well, if you livin' in the world today   You be hearin' the slang that the Wu-Tang say   Niggaz that front we don't handle 'em   So we blast 'em, alright, well okay      Well, if you like the way it sound then clap man   And if the women love it too well then raise your hands   But only raise your hands if you're sure   Punk niggaz shatter like a glass jaw, break it      My rhyme gross weight vehicle combination   Was too heavy for the Chevy's is chased out the station   Double-edged was the guillotine that beheaded it   Gassed up, fuckin' with some regular unleaded shit      Heads roll on hillsides behind ropes that   Bind-in, X marks the spot on the scope   Heavily armed military is necessary, it's a gamble   MC's bet they best at every      Powerful parable ditties might harm   If tampered with, set off and strike like pipe bombs   Flashbacks to the Duel of the Iron Mic   Look out for these fatal flying spikes, of massive      Sleep-holds, put strangle on commercial angle   Microphone cords tangled from being Star Spangled   Now who could ever say they heard of this?   My motherfuckin' style is mad murderous      Well, if you like the way it sound then clap man   And if the women love it too well then raise your hands   But only raise your hands if you're sure   Punk niggaz shatter like a glass jaw, break it      Well, if you livin' in the world today   You be hearin' the slang that the Wu-Tang say   Niggaz that front we don't handle 'em   So we blast 'em, alright, well okay      Well, what you know about MCin'?   Yo, I know a lot   Well, can you demonstrate somethin' nigga?   Huh, I'd rather not      I'm talkin' 'bout stacks cousin   Nigga that's what I got   Cash Rules the world   Well, Cash Rules the spot      My preliminary attack keep cemeteries packed   Of niggaz who think it ain't like that   MC's are gunned down like being run down with mad trucks   Them God struck, religious niggaz call it bad luck      Rap celeb, you got caught up in the web   Now bees are stingin', yo that niggaz 'em singin'   I'm just swingin' swords strictly based on keyboards   Unbalanced like elephants and ants on see-saws      I throw raps that attack like the Japs on Pearl Harbor   MC's be out like bank robbers   Fleeing the scene, to be a sole survivor   DJ the getaway driver      Tried to dip but he dive I socialize on vocal vibes   On tracks stabbed up with razor sharp knives   Criminal subliminal minded rappers find it   Hard to define it, when narrow is the gate      For fat tapes and then played out and out of date   Then I construct my thoughts on site to renovate   And from that point, the God made a statement   Draftin' tracements, replacements in basements      Materials in sheet-rock, to sound proof the beat box   And microscopic optics received through the boxes   Obnoxious topic, major labels, flavor tropical   Punchlines, that's unstoppable      Ring like shots from glocks that attract cops   Around the clubs and try to shut down the hip-hop   But we only increase if everything is peace   Father U C King the police      Well, if you livin' in the world today   You be hearin' the slang that the Wu-Tang say   Niggaz that front we don't handle 'em   So we blast 'em, alright, well okay      Well, if you like the way it sound then clap man   And if the women love it too well then raise your hands   But only raise your hands if you're sure   Punk niggaz shatter like a glass jaw, break it      If you livin' in the world today   You be hearin' the slang that the Wu-Tang say   Niggaz that front we don't handle 'em   So we blast 'em, alright, well okay      The Wu-Tang say   We don't handle 'em, alright, well okay   The world today, the Wu-Tang say   Niggaz that front we don't handle 'em   So we blast 'em, alright, well okay