9 Milli Bros.

[Produced by Metal Fingers]

[Intro 1: RZA]

Bob Digi, U G-O-D, Raekwon the Chef

The Inspectah Deck!

M.E.T.H.O.D. Man (The B-O-B-B! Straight up)

Masta Killa! The GZA/The Genius!

It's the Ol' D-d-d- D-d-d- D-d-Dirty Bastard!

[Intro 2: Ghostface, Ol' Dirtry Bastard, (Cappadonna), (RZA)]

1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) – turn it up, the headphones!

Turn it up.. yo, you hear me?

(Whattup, Toney?)

Wassup, Don-Don?

All the way up...!

You know how we do...

(Let's get this paper together...)

You motherfuckin' right, pa, uh huh

(What's up, y'all?)

We wanna do it, nigga

You know how I like it...

Sound about to go in on some real Wu shit, uh-huh (W.T.C.)

That's right – ya know what I mean?

(GHOST–FACE KILLAH!)

Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas

Check it out...

[Hook: Ghostface Killah]

The burners in the stash, we 'bout the cash

We got females, we got it like that

The golden childs that bone the crowd

See niggas in the place that bit my style

Well, I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers

Wu-Tang got the answer!

'Cause if I had a chance to–

Do it again, I will still keep the heat in my pants-uh

[Verse 1: Ghostface Killah]

Y'all, be nice to the crackheads!

Everybody, listen up!

I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough

Word life to big screen Don

Tapping dustbones out with star-itis, like I fucked Celine Dion

Stuck everything, that's the God's honest, beyond

We airin' niggas out, that's the type shit that we on

Official Wu-Tang headbanger

Flood your space with big waves like it did in Sri Lanka

[Verse 2: Raekwon]

I drink heavy gallons of Cru, play the big part

Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks

Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose

Yellow suede 1, matching hat with the grey gun

Niggas be rhymin' for nothing

Then my team pull up, we all war down – y'all broke niggas stay frontin'

Lines come digital, stupid

Plus ain't got no jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm Coupe-in'

Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of ya wolves

Front or react, we're sippin' Cognac brew, relax, dude

You know I'm with these cracks, dude

[Verse 3: Ol' Dirty Bastard, (RZA)]

(One-two, one-two!) Yo... Dirt McGirt!

Solid tone Smith, with six shots

Lick shots –

Leave your head like a Shaolin monk, with 6 dots

BROOKLYNNN ZOO! (Zoo, zoo, zoo...)

BROKLNYNNNN ZOO! (Zoo, zoo, zoo...)

[Verse 4: Cappadonna]

It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor

Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma

Eat bones with alligators, roll deep with my entourage

My whole crew's fresh out the bars

Diggler, AKA The Cab Driver

Drop 'em off in the middle of fire

Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland

Knock niggas out, hurtin' my hand

[Verse 5: Method Man]

I remember in the elevator, we was playin' corners (Yeah)

Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us (Uh)

Staten's where the raw is

Where the court system's running out of warrants

Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus (Errrrnnn!)

For real, I can't call it

You see, I Love Lucy 'cause she Lawless (Yeah)

Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is

Snitch niggas, swallow your tongue

Already know the island I'm from

And y'all don't want no problems with them

[Verse 6: GZA]

We got a history full of lightning victories

Conceptual breakthrough, it ain't no mystery

Long vision – from giants in every way

Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day

From the East to the 'ville, from the West to the hills

Incredible rhymes, encouraging skills

From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous

We hit 'em fast with an effortless performance

MCs start fleeing in flocks

Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock

[Verse 7: Inspectah Deck]

We grindin' down to the bone, my name grounded in stone

I miss the violence, we loungin' with chrome

Mr. Violence, we lounge in his home

Hit the housing on roam, shining like a hundred thousand in stones

Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero

1-6-zero my zone, we throwin' elbows

The hoes cling, sho' thing, we known kings

Only dime types, with minds right – we chose queen

[Verse 8: Masta Killa]

Yeah, you wild like rock stars who smash guitars

Yo, son, split his face with the toast – see, there he goes

It's no joke, iron coat rifle with the scope

One toke, brains float, shot to the throat

Before the smoke hit, witness the killing, chilling crime scene

Body on the block, eyes open from the shock

Of being popped in the neck

Yet he still held a lit cigarette

Between his fingers –

Danger when you steppin' in the chamber with the Masta

Disaster – gotta blast ya, 'cause I have to

[Verse 9: U-God]

The Rat Pack is back, from the island of Stat'

Leave you curb dust, 'cause you worship the gat

The first one to snap, drunk off the Smirnoff

Blow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss, he the boss

Handcuffed, to the turntables, like Wizzard Theodore

See this pure? Let it rain, pearly ounces

Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers

You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast

That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash