[Intro: Kurtis Blow sample & Raekwon sample]
"Clap-clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap-clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap-clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap-clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap-clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap-clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap-clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap-clap your hands everybody, yeah"
("Well, let's start it like this, son")
[Hook: Wu-Tang Clan sample, Raekwon sample, (DJ Ron G)]
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!"
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!"
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!"
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" "Well, let's start it like this, son"
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!"
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!"
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!"
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" "Well, let's start it like this, son"
(Alright, so here we go! C'mon!)
[Verse 1: Raekwon]
Droves of styles older than sharkskin, now commit the barking
I gather rhymes and load up, 'cause it's a hold-up
I meditate fast to assassinate a class, a dull sword
Check the graphics on this rap chalkboard
Peace to RZA Razor, yo, the nigga's major
Who slice tracks fast like whities with Gillette razors
And won't stagnate, the ragged Dragon Lee
Regenerate, clearin' the area, air out and ventilate
See, yo, I'm natural, swift like a mackerel shark
Gat-packable, attackable in this art
Now watch a beat that makes and shakes and breaks ya
Ron G makes a million off the tapes, son!
Ayo, peace to Uptown! Shaolin now
Walk through, child, it's wild
Huh! Hit you like this, son
Ron G, '94, takin' em to war!
[Hook: Wu-Tang Clan sample, Raekwon sample, (DJ Ron G)]
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (Just want to say what up to my man Murr!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (Justice! B.J.!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (Dark Man!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" "Well, let's start it like this, son" (Brian! Eric!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (104th Street y'all! 7th Avenue!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (J & A Variety!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (Remember, 'It's On' Part 2!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" "Well, let's start it like this, son" (Worrrd!)
[Verse 2: Killa Sin]
Yo, I got piles and piles of my styles to utilize
And brutalize niggas who despise 'cause I'm super fly
There ain't a nigga in the game who can tame me
I flip A&Rs if they try to rearrange me
So how the fuck do you figure you can hang
With a nigga whose slang is equipped to pick a nigga's brain?
I come hard, to the fullest, God
From pulling cards, to leaving niggas scarred on the boulevard
Check my steez, my rep is kept pleased
Like these biceps that I flex when I crack your knees
A homicide in the making, you'd enter the chambers
And sentenced to death for move-faking
See, mad thoughts fill the mind of a Killa
Sin is iller than your ordinary blood spiller
When it's time to come in to the track
I'm like a maniac, slapping your stack and it's all bad – what!
[Hook: Wu-Tang Clan sample, Raekwon sample, (Killa Sin), (DJ Ron G)]
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (1994, give it to you raw)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (Mix-King Records, word!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (That's what I'm talking about!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" "Well, let's start it like this, son"
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!"
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (Keep it real!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" (Don't forget, y'all! Ron G!)
"Wu-Tang! Wu-Tang!" "Well, let's start it like this, son" (Uhhh!)
[Verse 3: KRS-One]
Easy, soundboy, here, watch your chat
Allow me to set the party off with a fly rap
Aye-aye, cap, suckers wanna battle, gimme mine
You rhymes wouldn't be fly if you said them on Delta Airline
Now this'll take a second, Kris has come to bug out
You waiting for some lovey-dovey "hug me" – get the fuck out!
I got the hard texture lecture, or whatever
I got to survive, G, I ain't no saint
I do graffiti art, but like Martin's Home Decorating Center
"I – ain't – just – paint!"
Wait, wait, wait, wait, let me speak, let me speak
While I'm on this beat, your career is looking bleak
I couldn't understand why you were coming soft and sweet
But that explains why your rhyming skills are weak
You need a quicker picker-upper, rip a sucker
Put my album on toast, 'cause it's butter!
You dissing me will never happen slightly
That's like Arsenio Hall on TV saying, "Kill whitey!"
You might be – slightly thrown off at my complexity
Lyrical ecstasy is achieved by standing next to me
You shoulda known your career was gonna end
Should've called Dionne Warwick and her Psychic fucking Friends
Now it's ended, can't be mended, how splendid
For wack MC's, I come doctor recommended
[Verse 4: The Notorious B.I.G.]
I'm hard – Jehovah said I'm barred from the Pearly Gates
Fuck him, I didn't wanna go to Heaven anyway
But my mama got me on my knees with my hands gripped
Talking 'bout some "Praise the Lord" shit
"Hail Mary"? Fuck her, I never knew her
I'd probably screw her, and dump her body in the sewer
"Our Father"? My Pops stuck up dope spots
Big, Black, and mean with the fifth by the gabardines
What you expected from his next of kin, huh?
I'm loco, bro, but ain't no Mexican
I got nines in the bedroom, Glocks in the kitchen
A shotty by the shower if ya wanna shoot me while I'm shittin'
The lesson from the Smith & Wesson is depressin'
Niggas keep stressing, the same motherfucking question:
"How many shots does it take to make my heart stop
And my body start to shake?"
Ron G, stop the breaks
[Refrain Kurtis Blow sample, O.C., (DJ Ron G)]
"Clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap your hands everybody, yeah" (Yeah...!)
"Clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap your hands everybody, yeah"
"Clap your hands everybody, yeah"
Yeah... O.C. representing Jamaica, Queens, like this...
Clap-clap your hands everybody, yeah
Clap-clap your hands everybody, yeah
[Verse 5: O.C.]
You have now stepped into the realm of a man
With topics, open your optics, I rhyme for what I stand
Brace your boxes and stereo decks
I'm here to do more than just collect checks
So get fixed to the way of The Force, see, I'm the Jedi
When I'm in flight, it might be like the red eye
Swift, take a whiff of my vocabulary
I'm wild like berries, I pop it like a cherry
Ron G composed it, everyone knows it
Life brings death from guns to roses
Shootouts, put doubts in nigga to attest
Shit is hex, so I just might get a vest
But what good is a vest if they're aiming for the dome?
Kick it from a jammy called Nickel Plated Chrome
Blast you in the face, massacrin' niggas
Figuring the rep will be foes that's bigger
[Outro: Kurtis Blow sample]
"Clap your hands everybody!"
"Clap-clap your hands everybody!"
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