Ras Kass: Verses

Yeah (yeah) yeah (Sham's nine times ultra)Wu-Tang (herbs two times great, you heard of me)Nigga, L.A.D. (six times ill)Rest in peace O.D.B. (La the Dark, Sun large)GZA, Ras Kass, yeah (what's up, Wu-Universal)Legendary...[Scaramanga Shallah]Now it's the real beginning of the pages of ShamsSpit that heat rock, that make fiends make vapors of gramsSham's is the greatest fan, rock big cables of sandsValleys and trunks, I got the mack tenWe can hit the alley with iron and thumperTake it to the hands like the brand new LeonardNiggaz goin' no mas, when the bullets go in himYou dealing with a night stick tokerThe ice pick poker, trust, you ain't like this jokerAnd the set, devoted to opening your neckWith the tech, as you sit in a Lex'Your next move, is slipping, your last move is shittingAs your body gets soft, the shotty went offLittle soldiers, you're out of positionGuns go off, Shams is a greatest fanA rhyming gallop reporter, columns are lostWhite five, black five, with dollars to tossTwisted by the dark side of the forceBlack biscuit, by park side in a PorscheYou're off sides in the fortWe are survivors of the war of good and evilI'm in the hood, in the hood with a desert eagleWith my Brooklyn peoples, now feel it..[La the Darkman]Darkman, my persona's like Tony MontanaHow we used to sniff coke, how I puff marijuanaTry, play me today, I'mma kill you mananaFrom, far with the K, or up close with the llamaI'm like an African king in a castle in GuanaChest dripping with jewels, one hell of a rhymerStudy lessons in Athena, building with an old timerSo I, always been wise ever since a young minorGet CREAM by any means, follow Malcolm X themeSo I'm often posted, in a rumor with that thingGot a limited support from the Sing Sing regimeI'm Hannibal Smith and they like the A-TeamKeep my head on the swivel, when I serve a dope fiendUpgraded, to a digital, from a triple beamFucking with me, you better be real as you can beLa Trapacanti, a well known rhyme general[Ras Kass]Who say Ras Kass don't spit fire, he a liarThat's like your favorite rap star claiming he gon' retireWhen you mention me, not about penitentiaryWins and rhyme skills, both twenty second centuryAhead of my time, school niggaz like TimbuktuCuz I'm original, like rap feeling the jewelGalosh us by boom fool, buyers, fuck youTry us, fuck you, you die, y'all got gats, but him buck too, niggaSip the Grey Goose, and conned it, they know the room serviceIn Hotel Rwanda, reminder to honor these street scholarsWho ask why U.S. Defense is twenty percent of the tax dollarBush gave 6.46 billion to Halle BurtonFor troops support efforts in IraqMeanwhile, the hood is hurting, please believe thatThe rape over, Chaney talking, 25 dollars for a case of sodaDraining tax payers, eighty five thousand dollar oil filtersBut won't pay they soldiers, Halle Burton workers makeFourteen thousand dollars a month, privates earn thirteen g's a yearPlease who 25 extra, taking fire in combatRecruit all the niggaz, that die from where I'm at18 years old, talking 'Kill, where Saddam at?'But can't have a gat, to protect where my moms atI love to crunk, so what, plus I'm gangsta enoughTo piss in pimping cans, pimp cup, rack again and pump it upHow bitches still get fucked, niggaz just want a forty and a blunt[GZA]Yo, these youngsters they grow up on the blockWith the product in they socks, and the fully loaded glocksToo many die in vein, and it's a crying shameThe murders and the hustles, won't stop as they shoot for the topAcquiring apparel, through growth and developmentOn they most dangerous missions, excuses were irrelevantThe brutality of war, never changesAnd the out of control desire to win, makes it dangerousFire engulfed the set, they feel the threat, greater thanWhat they ever had, experienced yetIndictments, sparked excitement, and the thrill to killSuddenly they felt the need for a challenge in they fieldThe great boundaries of both man and machineCan have one at the point, to murder all in betweenYellow tape scene, dead teen, the mob was his idolGiving a grim new meaning to the neighborhood's title, what's up?