Furious Anger

[Intro: Reporter & Samuel L. Jackson]
Shyheim, the youngest member of the Wu-Tang Clan, was jumped at a Staten Island club, and his face still bares the scar
*car spinning out of control and crashing*
*multiple gunshots*
And you will know my name is the Lord

[Verse 1: Big L]
Shyheim, yeah
Corleone
Uh-huh, check it out
Y'all niggas be walkin the streets, iced out
Not knowing the wolves’ll put the price out
To get you stuck and punch ya lights out
Or catch ya car in the night and snatch ya wife out
And beat the ho up if you don't give the dough up
You got me pissed off, frontin' and ya whole clique soft
If ya had ya Rollie on, I might cut ya wrist off
Then lick off, and slide ya bitch off, punk
I hope ya ready for the kick-off
Ya flankin niggas and I'm gettin rich off
I done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack
Now I wanna go plat', can I get a soul clap?
It ain’t no callin time out, once I climb out
The garbage can, wit two nines out, and blow ya spine out
Oh I got you cats by a long-shot, every song hot
139 and Lennox is a strong block
I left enough a yall stinkin
What the fuck was yall thinkin?
My shit tight nigga, I spit right nigga
Yo, what?

[Verse 2: Shyheim]
Young outlaw, the state wanna get rid of me
I'll probably die from the death penalty
Y'all analog, Shyheim I keep it digity
I'm not pussy so I don't need security
Like Big L, I'm MVP on the street
I did wet more people than the pool and the beach
So be easy, or I'll expose you like shock TV
O.G., that's why they put me in a movie
Don't screw me, cuz if I punch you in ya face
You'll probably try and sue me, and take me to Judge Judy
Look me in my eyes cuz ya handshake don't fool thee
Stapleton Staten Islander, your name's marked on the calendar
Ain't no screwin off a silencer, uh-uh

[Interlude: Samuel L. Jackson]
*gunshots*
And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger
Those who attempt to poison and destroy
My brothers, and you will know my name is the Lord

[Verse 3: Big L]
You got somethin' to say, then cough it out
'Cause niggas be wantin' beef, but when you pull out the heat they ready to talk it out
What is there to talk about?
You was just frontin', now it ain't nothin'
Ain't that somethin'? I should start bustin' anyway
And put one a you punks in the ground
Y'all niggas be killin' me with y'all faces frown, jumpin' around
Like you scarin' us, not even
Cuz me and Shy' gon' be some thugs 'til we stop breathin'

My name is the lord

[Verse 4: Shyheim]
Niggas be actin like they hoodlums
Until they get shot up or locked up, now they Bloods and Muslims (Uhu)
In the bullpens, benz bang em like a Benz, touch kid nuttin thin
Put his ear to his chin
I gotta win and beat this game of dyin rich and old
Cuz these playa-hatin niggas wanna block my gold
It's untold like the truth, they thirsty for my juice
But when I let loose, have them jumpin' out they boots