Diamond D, Big L, Lord Finesse - 5 Fingers of Death lyrics

"Where are you?" "Hey, there you are!"
"How does it feel to know you only have
A few more seconds left to live?"

Check it! I stay jeweled up
Pockets swelled up from banks I held up
Plenty bitch-ass niggas Big L stuck
I never catch cold feet when I hold heat
We roll deep in a triple
Black dark-tinted old Jeep
I catch a fag three o'clock in the
Morn' on the block all alone
And put a Glock to his dome
Tell him, "Give it up quick, you nitwit
Don't try to get slick
Or I'mma let this four-fifth spit
And leave your shit split"
Prick, it ain’t nothin' decent about me
A true thug, for real
You can ask the precinct about me
A rap junkie
Don't try to play me like some flunky
Jewels be chunky, pockets lumpy
Attitude grumpy mad niggas be frontin' a lot
Poppin' mad shit, tryna be somethin' they not
Your faggot ass better stick to dancin'
Don't even look at me
I might break your jaw just for glancin'
That's right, in '97, Harlem kids is blowin'
And we don't trick
We'll let a bitch starve 'til
Her ribs are showin'

Hear the divine mastermind
I turn nickels to dimes
The authentic genuine that's out to shine
The cool cat, the true mack with smooth raps
Chickens be like, "Who that?"
I be doin' my thing, kid (True dat)
Forget frontin', I'm beyond that
I roll with brothers ready for combat
All for eye-to-eye contact
With skills, G, yo, it's ill, see, for real
B ain't no barbecue
Niggas better stop tryna grill me
Huh, sent that style to the essence
Got niggas stressin'
My style pull like fluorescence
No question, tough type to clutch mics
The positive upright
I'm that "I don't give a fuck" type
Expose the facts, you know the halfs
Could go to laugh
Astrological like the signs in the Zodiac
The rap troop out to stack loot word up
My style's tighter than a fat
Bitch in a cat suit
Surprise, G, it's not wise, see, to size me
When I operate
It's Smooth Sailing like Ron Isley
Gotta do my thing, word up (Beg ya pardon?)
Time to bounce
Gotta skate like Tonya Harding

Yo, I'm the cleverest top ten terrorist
Chickens ever diss, they become featherless
Hate derelicts, certified gold medalist
You play fly 'cause I'm the
Most high like Everest
Look at all these fakes
Musically you imitate the Crates
Won't succeed movin' at full
Speed with no brakes
Like Jake, watch me take your entourage
Can't see me, I'm camouflaged
Besides, I'm God mad hard like the SAT
Now, shorty's caught up in the mental
Watch her bless AG
Evidently, you still don't know
Because you tempt me
Thought you was the boss when
Your fat thoughts were empty
Not Fat Joey Crack
But still Jealous One's Envy
Who sent me? DITC
Good and plenty like the doctor
Smoke a Spike Joint and watch "Clockers"
Get rude like Shabba
Make moves, behind my block is crazy sickness
You want the pure? You better pick this
Bitches can't get this
Faggots remain dickless

Before we get started
Let's talk about these coward hearted
MC's that claim to be true OG's
And war specialists
Forever bust your guns on the sack of shit
But when the beef come
Get on the before I protest your licks
You know the deal
I come with nothin' but the real
Certified pejente, recognize mi gente
Whether East Coast or West Coast
I'll make 'em all strip naked Bitch
Niggas will never get respected
Joey Green baggin' devils up in Bowling
Green for all is clean
Cock the 9 soon as I seen his Rolie gleam
You know the team, never givin' a fuck
Layin' thick in the cut
Get your shit laced up what the fuck!

Yo, I'm flippin' on niggas
Like treys of cracks
My raps react on your cardiac
Like a heart attack
Some niggas front for stunts
Who want to take a puff of the blunt
And play a nigga like a chump
But, I don't play that shit with no chicks
Suckin' the next nigga's dick, movin' bricks
I'm too slick for you high school dropouts
You got knocked and tried to cop out
Couldn't fight when the kids
Pulled the mop out
And wails you out, writin' home, sayin'
"Bail me out" little small time
Fucked up when you called mine
D Squared, one of the Greatest of All Times