Unstoppable Threats

[Chorus: GZA]

This is hip-hop

MCs get busy, it's not pop

You front and you get dropped

You're listening to slanged-out goodies in Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

[Verse 1: 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 niggas on 4th and 8th 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

[Chorus: GZA]

This is hip-hop

MCs get busy, it's not pop

You front and you get dropped

You're listening to slanged-out goodies in Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

This is hip-hop

MCs get busy, it's not pop

You front and you get dropped

You're listening to slanged-out goodies in Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

[Verse 2: Prodigal Sunn]

Havoc on the block, shots from the ratchet, sizzle pop

Slugs spinnin' out of control, bodies drop

You know the saying in the hood, fuck the cops

Certified on the clock, young thugs 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 comin' 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 niggas vanish, niggas, 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: GZA]

This is hip-hop

MCs get busy, it's not pop

You front and you get dropped

You're listening to slanged-out goodies in Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

[Verse 3: Masta Killa]

You know a motherfuckin' hit when it split your 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

'Nough gunmen, 'nough 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 niggas got killed for sheik coats and big ropes

Legendary steez 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 daylight

Crown Heights, summer Fahrenheit, heat blazing

Cops on the beat, stop the money flow of the street

My dough is whole wheat, the fam gotta eat

[Chorus: GZA]

This is hip-hop

MCs get busy, it's not pop

You front and you get dropped

You're listening to slanged-out goodies in Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

This is hip-hop

MCs get busy, it's not pop

You front and you get dropped

You're listening to slanged-out goodies in Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

[Outro: GZA]

Come on

This is hip-hop

Come on

Come on

This is hip-hop

Come on

Come on

This is hip-hop

Come on

Come on