GZA, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Masta Killa, Inspectah Deck - Duel of the Iron Mic lyrics
[GZA, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Masta Killa, Inspectah Deck - Duel of the Iron Mic lyrics]
Oh, mad one, we see your trap
You can never escape your fate
Submit with honor to a duel with my son
I agree
I see you're using an old style
I wondered where you'd learned it from
You know very well, it's yours too
Heh, I had forgotten, will you show me?
And what have you come for? You come here
Since you're so interested - fight me
Yo, picture bloodbaths in elevator shafts
Like these murderous rhymes tight
From genuine craft check the print
It's where veterans spark the letterings
Slow-moving MCs is waiting for the editing
The liquid soluble that made up the chemistry
A gaseous element
That burned down your ministry
Herbal vapors and biblical papers
Smoking Exodus, every square yard is plush
Fuck the screw-faced photo sessions
Facial expression leaves impression
Try to keep a shark nigga guessing
Give crazy shouts, son, here's the outcome
Cut across the semi-gloss rhymes you floss
Shit is outdated
Just like neckloads of Sterlings
Suede-fronts, bell-bottoms
And tri-colored Shearlings
I ain't particular
I bang like vehicular homicides
On July 4th, from Bed-Stuy
Where money don't grow on trees
And there's thieving MC's
Who cut-throat to rake leaves
They can't breathe, blood splash
Rushing fast like running rivers
I be that whiskey in your liver
Duel of the Iron Mic!
It's the fifty-two fatal strikes!
This is not a '85 affair made clear
When the Gods get on to
Perform storms blew up
Wu's up, causing the crowd to self-destruct
Killer Beez are stinging something
While I reveal
Science that's heavily guarded by the culprit
Bombing your barracks with aerodynamic
Swordplay, poison darts by the doorway
Minds that's laced with explosive doses
Damaging lyrical launcher
Lunge at the youthful offender then injure
Any contender, testing the murderous Master
Could lead to disaster, dynamite thoughts
Explode through your barrier, rips the retina
Who can withstand the astonishing punishing
Stings to the sternum
Shocked in the Hip Hop livestock
Seeking for a serum to cure 'em
Adults kill for drugs plus
The young bucks bust ducking handcuffs
Throats get cut when dough rush
Out of town foes look shook but still pose
We move like real pros through
The streets we stroll
Bullet holes lace the windows in one-six oh
So control the avenues that's
The dream that's sold
Building lobbies are graveyards
For small-timers bitches caught in airports
Keys in they vaginas
No peace, yo the police mad corrupt
You get bagged up
Depending if you're passing the cut
Plus shorty's not a shorty no more
He's living heartless
Regardless of the charges
Claims to be the hardest
Individual, critical thoughts
Criminal-minded
Blinded by illusion, finding it confusing
Duel of the Iron Mic!
It's the fifty-two fatal strikes!
Duel of the Iron Mic!
It's the fifty-two fatal strikes!
Huh, Master, he must be dreaming, heh
Well, if he is dreaming then
He must be asleep
And if he's asleep, then I will wake him up!
At the height of their fame and glory
They turned on one another
Each struggling in vain
For ultimate supremacy
In the passion and depth of their struggle
The very art that had raised them
To such Olympian heights was lost
Their techniques vanished
You can never escape your fate
Submit with honor to a duel with my son
I agree
I see you're using an old style
I wondered where you'd learned it from
You know very well, it's yours too
Heh, I had forgotten, will you show me?
And what have you come for? You come here
Since you're so interested - fight me
Yo, picture bloodbaths in elevator shafts
Like these murderous rhymes tight
From genuine craft check the print
It's where veterans spark the letterings
Slow-moving MCs is waiting for the editing
The liquid soluble that made up the chemistry
A gaseous element
That burned down your ministry
Herbal vapors and biblical papers
Smoking Exodus, every square yard is plush
Fuck the screw-faced photo sessions
Facial expression leaves impression
Try to keep a shark nigga guessing
Give crazy shouts, son, here's the outcome
Cut across the semi-gloss rhymes you floss
Shit is outdated
Just like neckloads of Sterlings
Suede-fronts, bell-bottoms
And tri-colored Shearlings
I ain't particular
I bang like vehicular homicides
On July 4th, from Bed-Stuy
Where money don't grow on trees
And there's thieving MC's
Who cut-throat to rake leaves
They can't breathe, blood splash
Rushing fast like running rivers
I be that whiskey in your liver
Duel of the Iron Mic!
It's the fifty-two fatal strikes!
This is not a '85 affair made clear
When the Gods get on to
Perform storms blew up
Wu's up, causing the crowd to self-destruct
Killer Beez are stinging something
While I reveal
Science that's heavily guarded by the culprit
Bombing your barracks with aerodynamic
Swordplay, poison darts by the doorway
Minds that's laced with explosive doses
Damaging lyrical launcher
Lunge at the youthful offender then injure
Any contender, testing the murderous Master
Could lead to disaster, dynamite thoughts
Explode through your barrier, rips the retina
Who can withstand the astonishing punishing
Stings to the sternum
Shocked in the Hip Hop livestock
Seeking for a serum to cure 'em
Adults kill for drugs plus
The young bucks bust ducking handcuffs
Throats get cut when dough rush
Out of town foes look shook but still pose
We move like real pros through
The streets we stroll
Bullet holes lace the windows in one-six oh
So control the avenues that's
The dream that's sold
Building lobbies are graveyards
For small-timers bitches caught in airports
Keys in they vaginas
No peace, yo the police mad corrupt
You get bagged up
Depending if you're passing the cut
Plus shorty's not a shorty no more
He's living heartless
Regardless of the charges
Claims to be the hardest
Individual, critical thoughts
Criminal-minded
Blinded by illusion, finding it confusing
Duel of the Iron Mic!
It's the fifty-two fatal strikes!
Duel of the Iron Mic!
It's the fifty-two fatal strikes!
Huh, Master, he must be dreaming, heh
Well, if he is dreaming then
He must be asleep
And if he's asleep, then I will wake him up!
At the height of their fame and glory
They turned on one another
Each struggling in vain
For ultimate supremacy
In the passion and depth of their struggle
The very art that had raised them
To such Olympian heights was lost
Their techniques vanished