Intro: [LP Version]. He looks determined without being ruthless. Something heroic in this man there's a courage about him. Doesn't look like a killer. Comes across so calm acts like he has a dream. Full of passion. You don't trust me huh?. Well you know why. I do we're not supposed to trust anyone in our profession anyway. Intro Two: Raekwon the Chef. Knock niggaz out the box all the time. Bitches on my motherfuckin records Pah. Big ones yeah big fuckers. Straight up fuck your whole team. Yeah bust it. Yo yo fly G.I. niggaz. Chorus: Raekwon the Chef. Now yo yo whattup yo time is runnin out. It's for real though let's connect politic - ditto!. We could trade places get lifted in the staircases. Word up peace incarcerated scarfaces. Verse One: Raekwon the Chef. Thug related style attract millions. Fans they understand my plan. Who's the kid up in the green Land?. Me and the RZA connect blow a fuse you lose. Half-ass crews get demolished and bruised. Fake be frontin hourglass heads niggaz be wantin. Shuttin down your slot; time for pumpin. Poisonous sting which thumps up and act chumps. Raise a heavy generator. But yo guess who's the black Trump?. Dough be flowin by the hour's. Wu we got the collars scholars. Word life peace to power and my whole unit. Word up! Quick to set it don't wet it. Real niggas lick shots peace kinetic. Chorus. Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef. Chef'll shine like marble rhyme remarkable. Real niggaz raise up spend your money argue. But this time is for the uninvited. Go head and rhyme to it big nigga mics is gettin fired. Morphine chicks be burnin like chlorine. Niggaz recognize from here to Baltimore to Fort Greene. But hold up Moet be tastin like throw-up. My mob roll up dripped to death whips rolled up. Ya never had no wins slidin in these dens wit Timbs. Wit Mac-10's and broke friends. Ya got guns got guns too what up son do. you wanna battle for cash and see who Sun too?. I probably wax tax smack rap niggaz who fax. niggaz lyrics is wack nigga. Can't stand unofficial wet tissue blank bustin Scud missles. You rollin like Trump you get your meat lumped. For real it's just slang rap democracy. Here's the policy slide off the ring plus the Wallabees. Check the status soon to see me at. Caesar's Palace eatin salads. We beatin mics and the keys to Dallas. I move rhymes like retail make sure shit sell. From where we at to my man's cell. From staircase to stage minimun wage. But soon to get a article in RapPage. But all I need is my house my gat my Ac. Bank account fat - it's goin' down like that. And pardon the French but let me speak Italian. Black Stallion dwellin on Shaolin. That means the island of Staten. And niggaz carry gats and mad police from Manhattan. Chorus. Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef. I do this for barber shop niggaz in the Plaza. Catchin asthma Rae is stickin gun-flashers. Well-dressed skatin through the projects wit big ones. Broke elevators turn the lights out stick one. upstairs swithc like a chameleon. Hip Brazilians pass the cash or leave your children. Leave the buildin. Niggas yo they be foldin' like envelopes under pressure. Like Lou Farigno on coke. Yo Africans denyin niggaz up in yellow cabs. Musty like funk wavin they arms the Arabs. Sit back coolin like Kahlua's on rocks. On the crack spots rubberband wrapped on my knots. You bitches who fuck dreds on Sudafeds. Pussy's hurtin they did it for a yard for the Feds. Word up cousin nigga I seen it. Like a 27-inch Zenith - believe it!. Chorus. ...politic ditto. ...get lifted in the staircases