There's a lot of people, you know what I'm saying, that be getting misinformed, thinking everything is everything, you can just get yourself a little deal or whatever, you know what I'm saying, you're gonna get on, you're gonna get rich. And all these labels be trying to lure us in like spotters into the web, you know what I'm saying. So sometimes people gotta come out and speak up and let people understand that, you know, you gotta read the label, you gotta read the label. If you don't read the label, you make it poison. Tommy ain't my motherfuckin' boy. When your fake moves on a nigga, you employ. But we'll emerge off the set. Now you know, goddamn, I show up living large, niggas, how to flip a Def Jam. And rough up the motherfuckin' house, cause I saw that you cold chillin', motherfuckers, I still want a brother. I'm ruthless, my clan don't have to act wild, that shit is jive. And no sleeping bag profile. The soft comedian rap shit ain't the rough witty. On the real of real, it wasn't from a tough city. Niggas be game, thinking that they lyrical turgeons, they know they mics are foam to virgin. And if you ain't boomed a mic, you couldn't heard a beat. That's like going to Venus, driving a Mercury. The capital of this rugged slang is Wu-Tang. We're the unpredictable talent, natural gang. I'm Death Row and MC with mic cables. The epic is that I rush Associated Labels, from East West to Akko. I bring it to a next plateau, but I keep it phat though. Yo, I'm hittin' batters up with the wild pitch style. I even showin' uptown MCA style. Who thought he saw me on 4th and Broadway, but I was out on the island bombing MCs all day. My priority is that I'm first priority. I'm on the secret out of bitchin' a sorority. So look out for A&M, the avenue, the master. Breaking down your pendulum, as I finger MCs out with a blow that'll numb to ya. Pindex, I'm holding more weight than Columbia. Index, in the scope, we all see. A clan that's coming with a plan to free a slave of a mental death MC. Don't panic, throw that A&R nigga off the boat in the Atlantic. Now who's the bad boy character? Not from Arista, but firing weapons released on Geffen. So duck as I struck with the soul of Motown. My central broadcasting systems are slowed down. And dirty like that bastard. It's getting drastic. Read the label and say it loud. Another Wu-Banga. 36 Chambers. Through your area. Yeah, the RZA. Fat tracks on the dips. RZA RZA RZA RZA Shaw. Another Wu-Chang production, kid. Coming at ya. RZA RZA RZA