[Intro] We were on a mission Trying to go gun somebody down I got like three feet behind him And I guess he felt somebody behind him And when he flinched to look back I shot him I shot him right in the face I seen his whole jaw just, fly Just his teeth were on the sidewalk [Verse 1: Ghostface k**ah] Yo, ayo, it's [?], Staten Island [?] therapist Local gemologist, back like Apollo kids Brutal, stir a n***a brain like a cup of noodle Tony Pica**o didn't sh**, but a little doodle Goo-goo face, keep new boo laced Screaming out, "More ba**", spazzing on tour dates Ding donging b**hes flicking they p**y lips French vanilla bu*ter pecan, I call 'em sugar tits Palming they a**, one finger in the stinker Forty pound herringbone chain without a kinker Minger, my fur got stashed by some chambers Barracuda grip, big stones is in my banger El Chapo, guns more rockier than mountain Stopped the James Bond van and piss in the fountains We out [Verse 2: Vinnie Paz] The only motherf**er that's thought of like he a mystical It's criminal, the way that he slaughter all of the physical Horror is not predictable, honor is not a ritual It's Hell up in Harlem when they shot him in 1962 The nine is lifting you to a higher body, celestial The pistol do the damage, no matter what the medicinal Hiding behind municipal, got inside the invincible I tried to find a rhyme that can silence the higher sentinel You added to the violence, the violence is my monopoly Feed 'em to the a**a**in, then smash 'em like he was pottery Slash 'em with the isosceles, have 'em pa**ed me the Wallabees I'll take the Glock and free after robbing 'em like democracy How could you be honoring the fallen father, the harbinger The foreigner of everything holy, call me the conqueror The room darkener, I'm the toolie toter, the carpenter The God philosopher, it's the holy mountain, the sorcerer Muerte