GZA, Armel , Two da Road - Rough Cut lyrics

Uh, huh, GZA, uh, RZA, uh

Listen, if ya'll can spit
We can spit, please, get it together
Cuz anything you can do, I can do better
Your imagine material looks
Hidin behind hooks
Raise the fear, no one, but self
Who's shook?
Bring the plague like the revelations
In the holy book
Who's spot youse took? Duke off the hook!
I'm from the land of the crook
Life quick to end better known as the Brook
Rather take than lend
There's a lot of wack records
But this ain't one of them
DJ's off the books
Go 'head put the gun at them
All groupie MC's
I'm bout to start stunnin' 'em
Don't matter what crew, every last one of 'em
It's gettin' crowded in here
Some acts got to go
Let's start by eliminatin' groups
That can't flow
I bet a mil' my deal, my career with no fear
That none of ya'll, duke
Can touch what's over here

These rough cut metal tapes
Quick to break your label mates
Won't hesitate negotiate your table stakes
You can't flow right
Or fuck with me on no night
Fuck the slow light
You need to get your show right

Yo Justice
How many MC's must get pistol whipped?
Crack faces with bottles of Crys'
Hollow tips gobble lips
That's the penalty for poppin' that shit
Vanish in a colorless whip, bags of grip
Doo rags and clips, tag the strip
You had the chance to advance
I'm sorry for the holes in your hip
Son, It's the way of the street merchant
Live by the laws die by the rules
My gleam play the part of a fool
Now hear these jewels from a wise king
See what my eyes seen
Ten year supreme, the theme
We sizzle-line and triple CREAM
My grip'll off that digital bream
Visual scene
Roll footage on your video screen
Globe patrol, Two On The Road, we never fold
Snub react, GZA mack eliminate tracks
Stimulate phat, Sunzini, nigga
Gifted and black

Give me a beat
Nigga dealin' battles like a thief
Done killed more niggas than Jason in part 3
Stay Wu, own the graveyard and this label
Dum dums, that battle 12 O'Clock
Now it's able
So what, looked up and made the bitches clap
That was because my style's clothes
Not the raps
Ain't that shit, props for the clothing
Should of brought a mirror
Cuz lyric wasn't rollin'
My rhymes is all that and yours ain't shit
And at a party
Your bitch takin' crazy flicks of me
She said I was nigga celebrity
But, I'm from the slums
With the bums drinkin' Hennesey
Take a sip of some Jamaican rum
Put fire to my lung, tongue, teeth and gums
When it comes out my mouth
Shit's hot and it burns
Make fools out of bitches
Like I'm Howard Stern