| Yeah… what? What? |
| Justice. yeah. check it out |
| I never hesitate to drop a verse, I rhyme first |
| Repeat it so often, it’s well rehearsed |
| Rap stars, come through, rock the universe |
| I watch from afar just to see what they be doing first |
| Some was at they worst, dying of thirst |
| Others push through like the troops in Iraq, yo But what did Bush do? See, I don’t know a thing about politics |
| But flowing to the beat, is as dirty as my collar gets |
| The wildest child is gifted and talented |
| But change they style, will never wanna challenge it You telling me to rhyme to the melody |
| I take time with my words like I’m in the spelling bee |
| If I don’t make the grade, I don’t make the record |
| Once that’s accomplished, then my rhymes respect it As long as we stay on track, and then |
| We can rhyme back to back, whatever, kid |
| One, two, we coming with the Wu Three, four, we knocking at your door |
| Five, six, we eat them grits |
| Seven, to the eight, we don’t hate |
| Nine to the ten, and we still wanna win. |
| (Wanna win, wanna win…) |
| Yo, I terrorize shorty with the Iron Palm |
| When I step on stage, I clutch the mic strong |
| That melody was flowing, while that beat was going |
| When the waves connect in my ear, that pen starts going |
| Cuz when I get on the mic, I rock it so ill |
| That’s why they call me the Little Masta Kill' |
| I’m like rock and stone, put together |
| These dudes come in my face like «blah blah whatever» |
| So I had to hit the dude in the chest, B These little fake MC’s just want to test me I thought I told you before, I’m not a toy |
| I’m just a young boy, what? Doing my thing |
| Brooklyn, Brooklyn, with the Brooklyn slang, come on Wu-Tang Clan Killa Beez |
| Rock all my enemies, with the double D’s |
| Double CD’s, ride for the enemies |
| With the rocking-the-mic right, roll up with the typewrite |
| Rocking my Nike Flight, ballin' with the nice |
| And I’m rippin' the mic right, and you know who it is It’s the Young kid P, from the Brooklyn side |
| Brooklyn’s Finest, Brownsville |
| Knew our attack, and what the gats do, Plaza, all day, baby |
| Yeah… can’t lose, and we still gon' win forever |
| Young Godz forever |
| Peace to the Gods and the Earths forever |
| Kareem Just, Shamel Irief, the Young Prince |
| Yeah, yeah, Allah Just you know how do this thing, man |