FrictionInspectah Deck

[Intro: Inspectah Deck]
Is you ready?
Back by popular demand...
Murderous specialist tactics
Wu-Tang Clan, no rehearsal or practice
Niggas ain't ready for this...
Niggas ain't ready for this...
Niggas ain't ready for this...

[Verse 1: Inspectah Deck]
Chrome dips beaming off July sun rays
Caesar fade, blending with the side burn shades
Cotton club status, clientele, SL, heavy jewel
Niggas jail, young niggas screw well
Swinging like Smokey on the slow beat
Johnny walker hold me, closely as I mosey on the low key
If you don't know by now, you'll never know me
You know me, I swing it to the young-ins and the OG's
Witnessed by notary public, certified rough shit
Does it feel good, how was it? Gritty like the subway tracks
My protocol permanent like graffiti on the project walls
On the AWOL, alias Jamal Duval
Roam through the universe, plans of owning it all
In the meantime, in between time, we shine
Dangerous minds travel on this uphill climb

[Hook: Inspectah Deck]
If you want some, get some
This is it, son, this one
Make 'em feel the friction
Guaranteed hit, son, miss none
Flip one, you better bring your big gun

[Verse 2: Masta Killa]
Some niggas I'd rather not spar minds with
They can't stimulate my thoughts or fuck with
Creative testosterone, mic-phone
Calms the menopausable hormone quakage
Trapped like estrogen, we making
All of the above, supremely I hold my shit, when I run
I hesitate to stomp the come
Bring water from the brain, nigga
They tried to send me back, but still I came
Terraform mind frame contains
Elements of iron which began steel, healing men life
Allah Just brought me forth to bust mine
This time I spare no one
Poison sword seed technique, breathe the Earth
Take the head of those and feed 'em to the universe
Blessed with volts of electric, life threatning segments, it's hectic

[Hook: Inspectah Deck]
If you want some, get some
This is it, son, this one
Make 'em feel the friction
Guaranteed hit, son, miss none
Flip one, you better bring your big gun

[Verse 3: Inspectah Deck]
Poetry in motion, east to west coasting
Overseas blowing with lines tightly woven
Still going full speed, pulling g's
Trying to eat 'til my mouth gets too full to feed
I excel, cast spells similar to Merlin
Mic surgeon, hang like Dr. J. Erving
Splurge inner city like uncensored version
Merging with the fast lane, stained with the urban
Word in the street, his work was dirt cheap
Synthetically weak, make the fans start beef
Any comeback attempts would only be in repeats
They soon fall off, be mentally lost beyond reach
My technique's heat leaves a permanent crease
Plant my 2 feet, shooting with the quick release
Never cease fire from a Street called Desire
The sire, disturbing the peace with c-ciphers

[Verse 4: Masta Killa]
Who dare comes amongst and tries to peep it
The secret of the deadly art, then leak it
Snakes, leeches surround the righteous
I lick a diversion shot
Then slip with the swiftness to weave a raindrop
Leaving the eye confused understanding blurred
Cloudy electrical storms occur
From the Masta, classical head bang slang
The deaf tone rises like the blind and dumb
Licking shots at the microphone, Iron Lung
We the first to set off shit, last to run
Who want some, come and get some, motherfucker!

[Hook: Inspectah Deck]
If you want some, get some
This is it, son, this one
Make 'em feel the friction
Guaranteed hit, son, miss none
Flip one, you better bring your big gun