Mathematics, Wu-Tang Clan - Four Horsemen lyrics

I'm your highness, your highest title
Numero uno
Putas, they clone Shiro like Naruto
Your man super, grand groover on that Sambuca
Mass mover, automatic rap Ruger
Clap back, I bleed for my brother you know
The wolves stay fed cause they
Feed on each other i got a G for a mother
Cynthia's son
Take the game like three at the buzzer
Harder than the prison wall
Hitting y'all all
Up in critical condition it's official
When my clique involved
Listen y'all, Sir I certified
Anything other than the facts are falsified
They idolize I, well i know wise guys
Leave em eyes wide
Inside the gravel pit, spitting cyanide
Darts flash, hot enough to warp glass
When the shark pass, piranhas park

I'm kinda swole
Cause everything I want I got made
I never feared
Got everything from choppers to blades
They gave me rags and all of
Them they knew I want haze
When I was spliffing that night
Me and the with K's
Some kids across town thought I was amazed
Knew I was fronting, I had the army in range
It's most of us popping pains
Selling drugs in the rain trynna make money
Maintain and build me a train
Deal with facts only, no slang
That's only for dames
We will run up in the building
Tags and niggas with chains
Rocking range, lock and aim
Take your sneakers and chain
Leave em snubbed, outta luck
You shoulda bought you your flames
But you didn't
This could happen to a king or a queen
Be on point next time and
Don't be bringing no lames
Cause if you fuck up the next
Time it might make you famous
Might bump into a gunman who
Only want brains and shit

I'm talented, yes I'm gifted
Never boosted, never shoplifted
I get the cash, see money over tricks and
But keep a snow bunny in the kitchen
The hood still love cause I'm different
See that's the difference
I talk greasy, my hands greasy
That's the chicken it's that easy
My flow phat cause I'm that greedy
You got to feed me in stacks
What up to Crakk Peedi
State property, racially profiled
State trooper stopping me, I'm low down
Dirty it's a shame, I should slow down
Kick off my shoes, put my coat down
Separate the oil from the coke now
Pennies I got plenty and I still want more
Kinda like a Beamer '35 I still want four
85% still don't know
That is a hundred percent and y'all
Rappers tryna steal my flow

I got a name from everything from con to Sway
I got my row stitched up by a Colombian name
I got a crack spot, a G5 I never flown
I got a shark, a dog with a solid gold bone
I even copped me a piece of
Mind up in the Buddhist mountains
I don't sweat money, I got ten accountants
With fly bitches butt naked in Bermuda
And buddha, ice cooler
Grey Goose and big Ruger the fact is
I pose for low in Gazelle glasses
The booth Ted Dibiase just tripled the carats
And you can tell by the style I choose
I'm creatively superior
I rhyme over the blues
Never lose, never lost
Neck chills in the frost
I got a whole clan and Tonetana's the boss
I get paid when my record is played
To put it short: I got it made