[Intro: Sample]
Spare us the shame of being killed by a boy!
Kings must be killed by kings!
Hahahahahahahaha! A fine king you'd make!
A king who can't even kill his enemy!
And has to ask others, to do it for him!
Even on a battlefield! Hahahahahahahahahahaha! Hahaha!
(Crowds cheer)

[Chorus: Method Man Sample]
No n-no competition to the shit we got here (Yeah)
The real shit, terror to ya ear, kill the fear
Got the Glock, got the Glock, got-got the Glock
To your headpiece, what!
No n-no noo-competition to the shit we got here (Yeah)
The real shit, terror to ya ear, kill the fear
Kill the fear, kill the fear
Got the Glock to your headpiece, what, what, what
What

[Verse 1: Vinnie Paz]
I got the blick of the wild gunman
Sit the fuck down, it was never about nothin'
Jack Parsons espionage of a loud dungeon
Little Nut Miller was talkin' about pumpin'
Being a sinner became painful
It's clear revelations that came as a strange angel
My brother is my brother, we came from the same cradle
These ain't mink, partner, these made from a gray sable
I ain't the motherfucker you should box with
We can take it to the guns, homie, this a chopstick
Put the muhfucka in your mouth like it's a swab stick
Bring the Boxcutter in the muhfuckin' cockpit
Playin' Tito Rojas till the day break
I can never be a dollar short or a day late
The SIG Sauer P320 is my namesake
The bullet has so much kinetic energy the wave break
[Chorus: Method Man Sample]
No competition to the shit we got here (Yeah)
The real shit, terror to your ear, kill the fear
Got the Glock, got the Glock to your headpiece, what, what
No competition to the shit we got here (Yeah)
The real shit, terror to your ear, kill the fear
Got the Glock, got the Glock to your headpiece, what, what

[Verse 2: Vinnie Paz]
This the reckoning here
This is napalm, that's the smell of death in the air
You want bombaclaat war then the weapons appear
I'm the CD don, Squeaky Fromme, mescaline heir
The Sunnah of the Prophet, that's the actual fact
You think talkin' the one time is a natural act
You see talkin' the one time, that's a vaginal act
I went to Pet Sematary, now the animal back
We burnin' sage, we the Northern Arapaho
My heart black, homie, and it's colder than gazpachos
The hail of bullets comin', better get yourself a poncho
Bandana low on my eyes like I'm a Chicano
I don't look at homie as a rival, he a custy
He stink like patchouli, his entirety is dusty
We put a fatwah on his head like he Rushdie
Me and you is like puttin' a shark against a guppy
[Chorus: Method Man Sample]
No competition to the shit we got here (Yeah)
The real shit, terror to your ear, kill the fear
Got the Glock to your headpiece, what, what
No competition to the shit we got here (Yeah)
The real shit, terror to your ear, kill the fear
Got the Glock to your headpiece, what, what