GZA, La The Darkman, Ras Kass, Scaramanga Shallah - Verses lyrics

Yeah, yeah sham's nine times ultra
Wu Tang herbs two times great
You heard of me nigga, LAD, six times ill
Rest in peace ODB la the Dark, Sun large
GZA, Ras Kass, yeah what's up, Wu-Universal
Legendary

Now it's the real beginning of
The pages of Shams
Spit that heat rock that make
Fiends make vapors of grams
Sham's is the greatest fan
Rock big cables of sands
Valleys and trunks, I got the mack ten
We can hit the alley with iron and thumper
Take it to the hands like
The brand new Leonard niggas going no mas
When the bullets go in him
You dealing with a night stick toker
The ice pick poker
Trust you ain't like this joker
And the set, devoted to opening your neck
With the tech, as you sit in a Lex'
Your next move, is slipping
Your last move is shitting
As your body gets soft, the shotty went off
Little soldiers, you're out of position
Guns go off, Shams is a Raiders fan
A rhyming gallop reporter, columns are lost
White five, black five with dollars to toss
Twisted by the dark side of the force
Black biscuit, by park side in a Porsche
You're off sides in the fort
We are survivors of the war of good and evil
I'm in the hood
In the hood with a Desert Eagle
With my Brooklyn peoples, now feel it

Darkman, my persona's like Tony Montana
How he used to sniff coke
How I puff marijuana
Try, play me today, I'mma kill you mañana
From, far with the K
Or up close with the llama
I'm like an African king in a castle in Ghana
Chest dripping with jewels
One hell of a rhymer
Study lessons in Medina
Building with an old timer so I
Always been wise ever since a young minor
Get CREAM by any means
Follow Malcolm X theme so I'm often posted
In a window with that thing
Got unlimited support from
The Sing-Sing regime
I'm Hannibal Smith and they like the A Team
Keep my head on the swivel
When I serve a dope fiend
Upgraded, to a digital, from a triple beam
Fucking with me
You better be real as you can be
La Trapacandi, a well known rhyme general

Who say Ras Kass don't spit fire, he a liar
That's like your favorite rap star
Claiming he gon' retire
When you mention me, not about penitentiary
Wins and rhyme skills
Both twenty second century
Ahead of my time, school niggas like Timbuktu
Cause I'm original, like Black Falasha Jews
Velours by BUFU: Buy Us, Fuck you
Try us, fuck you
You die y'all got gats but him buck too
Nigga sip the Grey Goose and ponder
Then order room service in Hotel Rwanda
Reminder to honor these street scholars
Who ask why US defense is twenty
Percent of the tax dollar
Bush gave 646 billion to Halliburton
For troops support efforts in Iraq
Meanwhile, the hood is hurting
Please believe that
The rape over, Chaney talking
Twenty five dollars for a case of soda
Draining tax payers
Eighty five thousand dollar oil filters
But won't pay they soldiers
Halliburton workers make
Fourteen thousand dollars a month
Privates earn thirteen g's a year
Plus 225 extra, taking fire in combat
Recruit all the niggas
That die from where I'm at
18 years olds told to kill, where Saddam at
But can't have a gat
To protect where my Mom's at
I love to crunk, so what
Plus I'm gangsta enough
To piss in Pimpin Ken's, pimp cup
Rack a gauge and pump it up
Hot bitches still get fucked
Niggas just want a forty and a blunt

Yo, these youngsters they grow
Up on the block
With the product in they socks
And the fully loaded Glocks
Too many die in vain, and it's a crying shame
The murders and the hustles
Won't stop as they shoot for the top
Acquiring power through growth
And development
On they most dangerous missions
Excuses were irrelevant
The brutality of war, never changes
And the out of control desire to win
Makes it dangerous
Fire engulfed the set, they feel the threat
Greater than
What they ever had, experienced yet
Indictments, sparked excitement
And the thrill to kill
Suddenly they felt the need for
A challenge and they feel
The great boundaries of both man and machine
Can have one at the point
To murder all in between
Yellow tape scene, dead teen
The mob was his idol
Giving a grim new meaning
To the neighborhood's title, what's up