J Dilla - House of Flying Daggers lyrics

[Hook: GZA] Soldiers in the front, let the heat pump Troops on the left, fight to the d**h Fam on the right, infrared lights Wolves in the back, ready to attack, for what Soldiers in the front, let the heat pump [Verse 1: Inspectah Deck] I pop off like a mobster boss Angel hair with the lobster sauce Summertime can't top the scorch Check my hot broad, I dropped the Porsche FBI wanna watch the force, trying to lock my source Where I'm from, hear the macs, techs, Glocks and fours Hide the safe, n***a, lock the doors No respect for the cops and laws In the land where your own blood brother still plot for yours Seen things that'll drop your jaw My soldiers got dropped in war, see the mural on the project wall? Won't stop til I copped them all Wanna block me? You gots to brawl, trade shots and all Cuz I ain't on the clock for talk The Spot Rusher, blow down the spot for sure Still break off the block with raw, my stock is more The General, watch your board [Verse 2: Raekwon] Deep pockets with the eight on me, sleep with the safe in the wall The camo's on with the make-up and all Swap six 45's, twist reefer in the flicks, papi whoadie ride Bolt his gun off, from know your horse, she lied Fly criteria, bury me in Africa With whips and spears, and rough diamonds out of Syria A true don, only I could do wrong Rock fitted hats, get crack money and drive a sick blue joint Retard-less, I'mma blow regardless Resume is straight up live, I shank n***as up for larger E's And speak with the youth in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the crop All these hip hoppers eat co*k You could see me in the street or the yacht I'd rather be promoting your block or buying fresh sneakers with gwops Yo, I'm an ill dude, always been a real dude Don't f** around, I will spill on you and k** you in the field, boo [Hook 2X: GZA] Soldiers in the front, let the heat pump Troops on the left, fight to the d**h Fam on the right, infrared lights Wolves in the back, ready to attack, for what Soldiers in the front, let the heat pump [Verse 3: Ghostface k**ah] Leather jackets on, rocked up rock stars Treacherous bank robbers, the plan go dub, we pop guards The team gotta eat, seeds is hungry, that's why we ain't scared To dump on n***as, our guns is chunky Usually we bust n***as down with bats, swell up they joints Elbow, wrists, they shins get cracked We still humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop, pulverize Still got gear in the closet, that's stupid live From Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh conductor jumpers The train hats fit me lovely Rae job is to make sure the coke is fluffy While I politic his birthday bash with Puffy Bagged Nia soon as I linked up, the kid ain't inked up I'm an old mummy, my gold weigh as much as King Tut (yeah, yeah) Slippers, robes is minked up, under the doorag, bro (uh, yo, yo) My three dimensional fade is clean cut [Verse 4: Method Man] Man, ya'll n***as ain't sh** to us, still a pistol bust Split your melon like I split the Dutch Got a lot of piff to puff, and I ain't come for fisticuffs Or for the cop that wanna clip the cuffs Man, is Staten in this b**h or what? Don't get it twisted, we, twist it up and even mixed with dust See these fans can't resist the rush, they Wu-Tang for life Scarred for life, they can't forget the cuts Got a whole line of cla**ic joints, and while you at it Pa** the joint, let's push this music past the point Of no return, til it crash and burn, down the ashes Then placed inside Ol' Dirty ba*tard's urn When it's my time to go, for sure, ya n***a goes to war What you think I brought these soldiers for? To send shot, like forget me not, at any n***a Respect, b**h, that figure they gon' get me got [Sample] Heheh, your basic kung fu's no good You can't move fast enough! And you don't have enough strength! And your body movements are like a street fighter! It's too easy for me to trip you up! (Fighting sounds) Heheh, how's it feel, eh? Ah, it's no good I feel my back's broken! Heheh, you've still got a lot to learn!