The Wu is comin thru, the outcome is critical
Fuckin wit my style, is sort of like a Miracle
on 34th Street, in the Square of Herald
I gamed Ella, the bitch caught a Fitz like Gerald --
-- ine Ferraro, who's full of sorrow
Cuz the hoe didn't win but the sun will still come out tomorrow
and shine shine shine like gold mine
Here comes the drunk monk, with a quart of Ballentine
Pass the bone, kid pass the bone
Let's get on this mission like Indiana Jones, the GZA
One who just represent the Wu-Tang click
With the game and soul, of an old school flick
Like the Mack and Dolemite, who both did bids
Claudine went to Cooley High and had mad kids
so stop, the life you save may be your motherfuckin own
I'll hang your ass with this microphone
Make way for the merge of traffic
Wu-Tang's comin thru with Full Metal Jackets
God squad that's mad hard to serve
Come frontin hard, then Bernhard Goetz what he deserves