| Fuck that
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| God damn
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| (The GZA, god damn!)
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| (The GZA, god damn!) Pledge allegiance to the hip-hop!
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| (Method, god damn!) I pledge allegiance to the hip-hop
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| (Maximilli-on, Maximilli-on)
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| (Uh, yeah, ahh, uh) Johnny Blaze
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| I pledge allegiance to the hip-hop
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| (Johnny Blaze) Maximilli-on
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| Maximilli-on
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| Verse One: Method Man/Johnny Blaze
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| I breaks it down to the bone gristle
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| Ill speaking Scud missle heat seeking
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| Johnny Blazing, nightmares like Wes Craven
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| Niggaz gunnin, my third eye seen it coming
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| Before it happen
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| You know about them fucking Staten
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| Kids they smashin
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| Everything huh, in any shape form or fashion
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| Now everybody talking bout they blastin, hmmm
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| Is you bustin steel or is you flashin? |
| Hmmm
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| Talkin out your assHOLE
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| You shoulda learnt about the flow and peasy afro
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| Ticallion stallion, chinky eye and snot nosed
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| From my naps to the bunion on my big toe
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| I keeps it movin, know just what the fuck I’m doin
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| Rap insomniac, fiend to catch a nigga snoozing
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| Slip the cardiac arrest me, excorcist hip-hop posess me Crunch a nigga like a Nestle, you know my STEEZ
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| burning to the third degree, sneaky ass alley cat top pedigree
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| The head toucher, industry party bum rusher
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| You don’t like it dick up in ya fuck ya
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| (allow me to demonstrate) That’s right, you corny-ass
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| (the skill of Shaolin) rap motherfuckers
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| (The special technique) Better go back and check
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| (of shadowboxing) your fuckin stacks
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| (Shadowboxing) Cause your naps ain’t nappy enough
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| And your reefs ain’t rugged enough
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| Bitch
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| Verse Two: The Genius/Maximillion
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| I slayed MC’s back in the rec room era
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| My style broke motherfuckin backs like Ken Patera
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| Most rap niggaz came loud but unheard
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| Once I pulled ut, round em off to the nearest third
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| Check these non visual niggaz, with tapes and a portrait
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| Flood the seminar, tryin to orbit this corporate
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| indsutry, but what them niggaz can’t see
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| must break through like the Wu, unexpectedly
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| Protect Ya Neck, my sword still remain imperial
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| Before I blast the mic, RZA scratch off the serial
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| We reign all year round from June to June
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| While niggaz bite immediately if not soon
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| Set the lynchin, and form the execution date
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| As this two thousand beyond slang suffocate
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| Amplify sample through vacumn tubes compressions
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| cause RZA, to charge niggaz twenty G’s a session
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| Verse Three: Method Man/Johnny Blaze
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| When my mind start to clickin, and the strategy
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| is mastered the plot thickens, this be that Wu shit
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| I don’t give a cotten-pickin FUCK
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| about a brother tryin to size a nigga up, I hold my own
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| Hard-hat protect your dome
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| Look at mama baby boy actin like he grown
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| No time for sleep, I gets deep as a baritone
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| Killa bee, that be holdin down his honeycomb, loungin son
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| Wu brother number one, protect your neck
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| Flying guillotines here they come, bloody bastards
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| Hard times and killer tactics, spittin words plus
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| semi-automatic slurs, peep the graphic
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| novel from the genie bottle, hit the clutch
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| shift the gear now, full throttle, time to bungee
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| To the next episode, I keeps it grungy
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| Hand on my nutsac, and spittin lung-ghies
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| At a wack nigga dat, don’t understand the fact
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| When it come to RZA tra-cks I don’t know how to act
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| Real rap from the Stat, killa hill projects
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| How to be exact, break it down
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| All and together now
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| Things are getting good looking better now
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| (Allow me to demonstrate the skill of Shaolin)
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| (Sha-shadowboxing, the special technique of shadowboxing)
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| (Shadowboxing) |