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Texty: Wu-Tang. Chamber Music. Radiant Jewels.

Chef, let's do it

Criminal kingpins, gangstas and cheap friends
Actors, vixens, niggas put your kicks in
Blood money when we hawking
Awkward gun that go around curves
Bullets braze niggas with coffin, yo

Watch how to rhyme with hammers, I got two mens
That don't speak English, shooting game's bananas
Down in Spain, my bangles, clusty, checking my swings
Trillions on, yo, cuffing my jeans

Broad day, yo, body another, my microphone is like
Blow 'caine, one, pull the trees, you love us, yo
So killers be cool, pimps, read rules
When a grown man is rapping it's Ill/ Hill Street Blues

Striving, nigga with one side
Don't go against totally rent shit, nigga, baby gonna die
Yeah, bank robbers armored up, gear like the boys in Heat
De Niro told one soul to keep quiet

Aiyo, word to mother
Ya'll niggas better bring yaselfs son, word

When Pun was packing a mack in back of the Acura
I was dealing in them buildings, it wasn't no cameras
The witness savages, snitching was hazardous, now it isn't
Shit is embarrassing, fuck a flow, this is a lyrical aqua duct

Sink or swim for what I'm hearing you bagging up
Lyte like the MC, I'm 'Paper Thin', you tripping
I'm taking trips, your eyes don't lie, take a glimpse into my life
You see me blazing clips with the green to make it rich

With a team that'll scrape the Knicks and a V that's crazy quick
I came to wear my Yankee fitted, represent for greatness
It's lyrical elevation, causing mental stimulation
If I'm getting too deep, I give you a minute to take in

My jewels radiant, like a view of the Caymans
And thinking you seeing me, who you playing with?
Cor, Mega, raw forever
Fell back, pause, fell off? Never

Shaolin, what up?
Aiyo, listen giraffe neck niggas, I blast techs
Alejandro came through with the Mexican Aztecs
Rap smack niggas on a whole different aspect
Homey, owe me dough, that's how we fucked up his last check

Three train Saratoga, train stop, nigga been
Metro part with the plan, make major figures
Foul flagrant, two shots, give me the ball back
You got shot, get off my ball sack

You not hot, give me a call back, niggas is all whack
Super doopa stupid, get drugs and I fall back
Ain't a problem that the God can't handle
I set it off First Blood, Sean John Rambo
Who?

As you can see, I'm focused
Boot Camp for life, fuck the G.I. Joe shit
Boot Camp is the army, better yet a Navy
Marine Air Force Ones, nigga, the shit's crazy, don't play me