Оригинален текст
Intro: RZA (singing by Blue Raspberry)
*bees buzzing*
*man screaming in torture*
This is... (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
Serious, the craziest
... d-da, (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) day-da
Danger, dangerous... style
Verse One: RZA
Lyrical shots from the glock
bust bullet holes on the chops, I want the number one spot
With the science, of a giant
New York defiant, brutal like domestic violence
Silence of the Lambs, o-ccured when I slammed in
Foes grab their chairs, to be mad as Ralph Cramden
Others come with s**t, as silly as Art Carney
But my Tetley triplizes, more kids than Barney
Never need for stress there's three bags of sess
a d*mn I rest, playing chess, yes
My thoughts be sneaky like a crook from Brooklyn
When you ain't lookin, I take the queen, with the rook then
I get vexed, layin phat trax on Ampex
Morphous God, gettin drunk, off a Triple X
Violent time, I got more love than valentines
The violent mind, I blast with a silent nine
Verse Two: Inspector Deck
My hazardous thoughts to cut the mic's life support short
Brains get stained like tablecloths when I let off
Powerful, poetry pushed past the point of no return
Leavin mics with third-degree burns
Let me at 'em, I cramp your style like a spasm
Track em through the mud then I bag em
We're screaming hardc*re, hip-hop drips out my balls
and I be raw, for four score plus seven more
I strike like a bowling ball, holding y'all hostage
like jail, electrifying like the third rail
Peep the smash on paragraphs of ruckus
Wu-Tang (Clan ain't nuttin ta fk wit)
Verse Three: Method Man
Hot time, summer in the city
My people represent, get busy
The heat-seeker, on a mission from hell's kitchen
I gets in where I fits in for head-touchin, listen
Enemy, is the industry got me flippin
I don't give a fk tell that b*tch and a nigg*
I'm killin, snipin, catchin murder cases
Desert Storm-in, I be searchin for oasis
As I run a mile with a racist
Pullin, swords, hit the Billboard with a bullet
Peace to the number seven
Everybody else get the fo'-nine-three-eleven
(Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
I don't know what's going on
if you can take us there...
Verse Four: Street Thug
Yo, watch me bang the headpiece there's no survival
My flow lights up the block like a homicidal
murder, underground beef for the burger
P.L.O., criminal thoughts you never heard of
I switch, the city never sleeps, life's a b*tch
I s**t, runnin through girls like Emmitt Smith
Caution, best to be careful crossin
the street, before they end up layin in a coffin
Don't sleep, tend to forget, however
Peep this -- my nigg* Case lives forever
Verse Five: Carlton Fisk
What evil lurks in the heart of men?
It be the shadow, street-life, flowin again
I had a plot, scheme, I knew for sure
Only one kid would knock the hinges off the door
The jerk tried to jet, Sabrina at his neck
Thirteen pounds on the table plus a tec
Just when I said, "Where the fk's the cream?"
Another jerk came out the kitchen with the M-16
He tried to c*ck it, blast these shots like, rockets
Crushed his collarbone, ripped his arm out the socket
My move for the table was swift, I got my hostage
(The nigg* tried to stab you God!) but I dodged it
said, "Carlton youse a ill motherfker"
Cause I made it look like they both killed each other
And I'm out
(Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
(Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream)
