[Intro: Ol' Dirty Bastard]
One, two
One, two
This how we do it from Brooklyn

[GZA]
Oh yeah that sounds kinda funky
Alright, break it down and then I'll start

[Verse: GZA]
Check it out
When I begin to wreck a hip-hop tune
The crowd reacts immediately, if not soon
I'm black and proud, I move the crowd
I'm raised from Hell, yo
My lyrics alone rock the bell!
Of those who say that its me they wanna scar
Hmm, that's like George Burns without a cigar
So, come in the game and project the hard image
But they can't never get past the line of scrimmage
'Cause I'm on a defense, what a tough sequence
And you lack the knowledge to understand a pretense
So, just from not planning it right, you got sacked
By a blitz of rhymes that was broken down in stacks
Therefore, the mic was hyped but then your hand
Got stripped and ripped while it slipped from its stand
Then what happened? You begin to cease to control it
You fumbled, couldn't rumble, so then I stole it
How did you think you could make first down?
If you were boxing, you wouldn't escape the first round
Save the bull, don't even begin to waste time, drop the mic
Before you reach fate, then you rhyme and realize
You were just weak from the start
You make demos, but really don't master the art
I know ya know deep down inside you can't flow
Plus, you're backwards, when I said red, you said "Go!"
But you should've stopped, because the red was the bloodshed
But you ignored the warning and you went ahead
You tried me, G, by setting up a match
A fair one, meaning no strings attached, then bang!