Inspectah Deck, Masta Killa - Friction lyrics

Is you ready? Back by popular demand
Murderous specialist tactics
Wu Tang Clan, no rehearsal or practice
Niggas ain't ready for this
Niggas ain't ready for this
Niggas ain't ready for this

Chrome dips beaming off July sun rays
Caesar fade
Blending with the side burn shades
Cotton club status, clientele, SL
Heavy jewel
Niggas jail, young niggas screw well
Swinging like Smokey on the slow beat
Johnny walker hold me
Closely as I mosey on the low key
If you don't know by now
You'll never know me you know me
I swing it to the young-ins and the OG's
Witnessed by notary public
Certified rough shit does it feel good
How was it? Gritty like the subway tracks
My protocol permanent like graffiti
On the project walls
On the AWOL, alias Jamal Duval
Roam through the universe
Plans of owning it all
In the meantime, in between time, we shine
Dangerous minds travel on this uphill climb

If you want some, get some
This is it, son, this one
Make 'em feel the friction
Guaranteed hit, son, miss none
Flip one, you better bring your big gun

Some niggas I'd rather not spar minds with
They can't stimulate my thoughts or fuck with
Creative testosterone, mic-phone
Calms the menopausable hormone quakage
Trapped like estrogen, we making
All of the above, supremely I hold my shit
When I run i hesitate to stomp the come
Bring water from the brain, nigga
They tried to send me back, but still I came
Terraform mind frame contains
Elements of iron which began steel
Healing men life
Allah Just brought me forth to bust mine
This time I spare no one
Poison sword seed technique
Breathe the Earth take the head of those and
Feed 'em to the universe
Blessed with volts of electric
Life threatning segments, it's hectic

If you want some, get some
This is it, son, this one
Make 'em feel the friction
Guaranteed hit, son, miss none
Flip one, you better bring your big gun

Poetry in motion, east to west coasting
Overseas blowing with lines tightly woven
Still going full speed, pulling g's
Trying to eat 'til my mouth
Gets too full to feed
I excel, cast spells similar to Merlin
Mic surgeon, hang like Dr j erving
Splurge inner city like uncensored version
Merging with the fast lane
Stained with the urban
Word in the street, his work was dirt cheap
Synthetically weak, make the fans start beef
Any comeback attempts would only
Be in repeats they soon fall off
Be mentally lost beyond reach
My technique's heat leaves a permanent crease
Plant my 2 feet
Shooting with the quick release
Never cease fire from a Street called Desire
The sire, disturbing the peace with c-ciphers

Who dare comes amongst and tries to peep it
The secret of the deadly art, then leak it
Snakes, leeches surround the righteous
I lick a diversion shot
Then slip with the swiftness
To weave a raindrop leaving the eye confused
Understanding blurred
Cloudy electrical storms occur
From the Masta, classical head bang slang
The deaf tone rises like the blind and dumb
Licking shots at the microphone, Iron Lung
We the first to set off shit, last to run
Who want some, come and get some
Motherfucker!

If you want some, get some
This is it, son, this one
Make 'em feel the friction
Guaranteed hit, son, miss none
Flip one, you better bring your big gun