Duel of the Iron Mic
GZA, Masta Killer, Ol' Dirty Bastard AKA Dirt McGirt, The Genius, Rolly Fingers AKA Inspector Deck, Dreddy Kruger
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Picture bloodbaths and elevator shafts Like these murderous rhymes tight from genuine craft Check the print, it's where veterans spark the letterings Slow moving MC's is waitin for the editin The liquid soluble that made up the chemistry A gaseous element, that burned down your ministry Herbal vapors, and biblical papers Smokin Exodus, every square yard is plush F*ck the screw-faced photo sessions facial expression leaves impressions, try to keep a shark nigga guessin Give crazy shouts Son here's the outcome Cut across the semi-gloss rhymes you floss Shit is outdated, just like neckloads of Sterlings Suede-fronts, bell-bottoms, and tri-colored Shearlings I ain't particular, I bang like vehicular homicides on July 4th in Bed-Stuy Where money don't grown on trees and there's thievin MC's Who cut-throat to rake leaves They can't breathe, blood splash, rushin fast like runnin rivers, I be that whiskey in your liver Duel of the Iron Mic, it's the fifty-two fatal strikes! This is not a eighty-five affair, made clear when the Gods get on to perform storms blew up Wu's up, causin the crowd to self-destruct Killer bees are stingin somethin while I reveal Science, that's heavily guarded by the culprit Bombin your barracks, with aerodynamic swordplay, poison darts by the doorway Minds that's laced with explosive doses Damagin lyrical launcher Lunge at the youthful offender then injure any contender, testin the murderous Master could lead to disaster, dynamite thoughts explode through your barrier, rips the retina Who can withstand the astonishing punishing Stings to the sternum, shocked in the hip-hop livestock Seekin for a serum, to cure em Adults kill for drugs plus the young bucks bust Duckin handcuffs, throats get cut when dough rush Out of town foes look shook but still pose We move lioke real pros through the streets we stroll Bullet holes lace the windows in one-six oh So control the avenues that's the dream that's sold Bulding lobbies are graveyards for small-timers Bitches caught in airports, keys in they vaginas No peace, yo the police mad corrupt You get bagged up, dependin if you're passin the cut Plus shorty's not a shorty no more, he's livin heartless Regardless of the charges, claims to be the hardest individual, critical thoughts, criminal minded Blinded by illusion, findin it confusin Duel of the iron mics It's that fifty-two fatal strikes Duel of the iron mics It's that fifty-two fatal strikes, nuh At the height of their fame and glory, they turned on one another Each struggling in vain for ultimate supremacy In the passion and depth of their struggle They very art, that had raised them through such rapiant heights was lost Their techniques, vanished
Written by: HERBERT MAGIDSON, ALLIE WRUBEL, GARY GRICE, ROBERT DIGGS, RUSSELL JONES, AUTHOR UNKNOWN COMPOSER
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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