Fresh from the Morgue

[Hook: Bronze Nazareth] Yeah, nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor Nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue Yes, I'm gone; trade my lawn for a shore Nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor Nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue Yes, I'm gone; trade my lawn for a shore [Verse 1: Bronze Nazareth] Nigga, I'm ill; chain still the back of a gorilla Records so sharp, DJ's slash their finger We chop trees; never yellin' "timber" Float off on leaves, cough and wheeze; a Magellan drifter Off the Richter; scale triple-beam, coffin lifter Subliminal seminal, often lifted Incredibly criminal, how it goes off on the discus Breakfast is my lunch; the feds heard my song, now they wanna search my trunk Told 'em got that white in the sheets of that numb Photo-copied bright, I'm that sign in your palm Turned 'em zombie-white like the sickest in the morn Impregnate the song; molotvs tossed, detonate engulf my blogs I take what I want, you niggas still beggin' And I don't got no jewelry to flaunt, I bought a building Sicilians and gold Brazilians over my lap like pavilions If anyone dare touch 'em, they might as well commit 'em [Verse 2: RZA] Bobby Steel and Bronze Nazareth; combination's too hazardous The infliction, the past descriptions, known by no-one adjectives Beyond fabulous, with small stars and asterisks While I descend from the most high, draped in star catalyst Crumbled MC's, keep a pocket full of crumbled cheese Not a tuna fish, but I been in a can with bumble bees Raw is ill; sickness can't be cured by small pills Take large corporate checks, and cash 'em in small bills Keep the gat in a shoulder strap; quicker than a Kodak snap Twist a nigga wig back, like a fuckin' soda cap Nigga, ain't supposed to rap; I make movies Them boys poke they chest out, like they fake boobies Put some D's on it, put some cheese on it The blunt is split open, nigga, put some trees on it But listen, this bishop-realistic-rap-mystic Got more rhymes and beats, than I could ever solicit So I give you a freebie You better smile when you see me Poppin' on your silver screen or upon your T.V B-O-B-B-Y? Because we like you D-I-G-I-T-A-L; still hard as hell and rock bells Motherfucker flip the head, I take the tails They must've missed it, son; the Digit They didn't know we had jelly on the biscuit So they foolish, why would this motherfucker risk it? Just to become another police statistic Bob is ill, ill, ill; Bob is ill Bronze is ill, ill, ill; Bronze is ill [Verse 3: Bronze Nazareth] My insane cocaine cowboy; that mean I ride the beat like a white horse Propane out-pour; I'm out for a bigger catch; fishscale drought war My drought raw like Russ Jones; salute to the outlaw I'mma sprout raw like a tumor and branch out Devout fans bottleneck the venue; I air it out I'm the heir that ya'll niggas don't hear about They scared to say my name five times in the mirror now Everything clearer now; I'm pro-active, cause I clear 'em out Abort mission, tear 'em out the frame, you a old picture You a field negro, you a old pitcher, on the grind, past your prime I'm a spring chicken; spring training on you lame victims My blade drippin'; Mary Jane henchman; higher plane intention Human Can't reach em; I'm so ill, bring in the nurses to see him My bitch purse is bulimic; the reason: up my per diem Seein' the beats leave, stiffen the fingers; D's on the victim My ninja hit me with these vintage words of wisdom: "You hang with four broke niggas; be the fifth one" Yeah; fresh from the morgue I'm so ill just came from the morgue and shit [Outro: RZA] Bob is ill, ill, ill; Bob is ill Bronze is ill, ill, ill; Bronze is ill Killa Hill Bob is ill, ill, ill; Bob is ill Bronze is ill, ill, ill; Bronze is ill Bronze is ill, ill, ill; Bronze is ill Killa Hill [Hook: Bronze Nazareth] Yeah, nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor Nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue Yes, I'm gone; trade my lawn for a shore Nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor Nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue Yes, I'm gone; trade my lawn for a shore Nigga, I'm ill [Outro: RZA] This is ill, ill, ill, son this is ill This is ill, ill, ill, son this is ill This is ill, ill, ill, son this is ill Bob is ill, son; boy, Bronze is ill..