Guillotine (swordz) - Raekwon With Ghost Face Killer, Genius And Rollie. Lyrics - Only Built 4 Cuban Linx - Raekwon

inspectah deck 

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 

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 

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) 

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 

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 

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