Code Red

[Intro: sample scratched up (RZA)] "Code red -- danger!" - Inspectah Deck "Protect Ya Neck" (Yo, aiyo) [RZA] 36 crazy fists, Baby Chris Kept a tray eighty, slip down near his ass split Quick to spit, maybe hit Anybody on the block by, he talk fly Hawkeye, chalk lie on blocks, nobody's drop Like hopscotch, boxes being drawn by cops Maybe Chris, iller dealer will splat the skully box Big head and his little seed Yaqub, terrible So black he was blue, knew, when he grew That he would study math, and learn to draw devil And speak three toga, learn sheik yoga Think with the force of Yoda 70 percent satisfied, 30 percent dissatisfied So they fraternized and scatter lies And build a brotherhood, with black hoods We stack goods, livin' in backwards Rollin' weed up in back woods [Remedy] Baby Chris got a cousin named Abe, he got the mind of a slave Generous but the heart that's brave Said he gave his whole life, came to save the kids From the cradle to the grave, for what you think they did On his praise to The Abbott, said he'd kill for the Wu Started learning jujitsu, and kung fu too Mastered and traits on how to rush gates Learn to DJ and how to put explosives in crates Now a few years past, wow, some learned fast How to blast, quick dash, run and gun for the cash Nothin' else mattered, paid his dues killin' crews that ratted He was bruised and battered With 2 twenty two's in his shoes, it's where he kept shit cookin' Waitin' for his time to attack, who wasn't lookin' 36 crazy fists, cousin' Abe, Baby Chris That and this, nobody gave two shits [Lounge-Lo] Aiyo, I clapped with the best of the clappers Rapped with the best of the rappers And I snapped with the best of the snappers Hold on dog, let me tell you how I be heglin' hackers Fuck the machine, I rock jeans, can't fuck with slackers Know them lame ass niggas label, pickers and packers I'd rather stay in the game with them, stickers and stackers The kid fuck with building attackers, coke pushers Dope felons, weed smokers and heat holders Underworld street rollers, you know the rig Throw a rock at the heads, who thought the beef was over See the life, but the streets are colder Momma love, got to watch her back, because niggas heats don't know her But if it's indirected, it's gonna pop off in one second And for the record, dog, best to start settin' it [Solomon Childs] My voice box of a thousand And use for promotional use, for thugs who rep housin' They can't name me, free Tommy Gunns, we pitbulls is arson Body Brighton, the black mask, I blend in the dark wind It becomes a new line cinema With preaches of a project minister Cuz of the bloodshed, he made movies Wifies with attitudes, look, we talk groupies Bust our guns at the storm like big web And made an offer to the rev That by any means necessary, I'mma die for the bread Front page criminal, startin' a clean spread Until you faggots, see you muthafuckas at the crossroads With your heart wounds from me tossin' crossbows And I ain't sendin' no cross codes Believe when I tell you that I got cats that'll hit you with the forty and open up your torso These permanent red stains on your body like up North Pole Reign supreme like I'm sittin' on Egyptian throne [Outro: sample scratched up (Solomon Childs)] "Code red -- danger!" - Inspectah Deck "Protect Ya Neck" (You heard, for real)