Unstoppable Threats - GZA, DJ Muggs

This is hip-hop, MC’s get busy

It’s not pop, you’ll front and you’ll get dropped

You’re listening to slanged out goodies, and Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

I was a young one at the time, but started Mic Trippin'

Had rhythm like Ali, when he was rope skipping

I got crazy, when I heard the break beat

I used to lose it on niggas on 4th and Main Street

They couldn’t stop the attack, once I moved forward

Many was drawn back, assault was seen awkward

Only armed with the bow, and a mad flow

Poisonous arrows on a mark, that was set to go

Traveling at high speeds, towards a target

I never hit bystanders in crowded markets

Documenters catch this most intimate footage

In the center they come close, label it the hooded

Remarkable clips, of an uncut episode

They was given the safe, but never was left the code

Close up of those, who have paved the road

Invincible armor like that nigga we call The Toad

This is hip-hop, MC’s get busy

It’s not pop, you’ll front and you’ll get dropped

You’re listening to slanged out goodies, and Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

This is hip-hop, MC’s get busy

It’s not pop, you’ll front and you’ll get dropped

You’re listening to slanged out goodies, and Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

Havoc on the block, shots from the ratchet, sizzle pop

Slugs spinning outta control, body’s drop

You know the saying in the hood, fuck the cops

Certified on the clock, them ducks with metal Glocks

It takes place on the planet in rocks

Take nothing for granted, raised by these thieves and bandits

The enchanted, sticky green keeps my eyes slanted

Hard times coming up in the ghetto, but the Sunn manage

Watch me take advantage, get it, split it, panoramic

The notes I «e, water like the great Atlantic

Never catch me frantic, swift with the antics

Bitch niggas vanish, niggas, they run rapid

Sun of a Man, son of the sun, son of a gun

Breaded from the slums of each one and teach one

What’s done is done, son, the game is made

Stay sharp like switchblades, continue to get paid

This is hip-hop, MC’s get busy

It’s not pop, you’ll front and you’ll get dropped

You’re listening to slanged out goodies, and Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

You know a muthafuckin' hit when it split ya wig back

Young Gatling, strapping a.38 revolver

It’s going down, wait for the sound, my soldiers rally round

Ninja men, blending in, with the surrounding

'Nuff gunmen, 'nuff Flatbush yardmen strapped with the vest

No pussy test the God, the grounds is well held

Illegal desert eagle, cadaver dog

Search for the body that’s lost, of course, it’s BK

You heard niggas got killed for sheik coats and big ropes

Legendary students that sold coke, some blocks that’s still hot

From shots popped back in '88

The black gate where son lay, never made the paper

Just another caper pulled by a masked killer, broad day light

Crown Heights, some are Fahrenheit, heat blazing

Cops on the beat, stop the money flow of the street

My dough is whole wheat, the fam gotta eat

This is hip-hop, MC’s get busy

It’s not pop, you’ll front and you’ll get dropped

You’re listening to slanged out goodies, and Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

This is hip-hop, MC’s get busy

It’s not pop, you’ll front and you’ll get dropped

You’re listening to slanged out goodies, and Timberlands and hoodies

With the rhythm that came from the streets

«Come On!»

«This is hip-hop»