16th Chamber, temple number five Somebody said it's on, if it is then I'll be set To blow a nigga up, with my Five Fingers of Death I bring it to his whole damn fam, understand If he frontin, on any man down with the Clan I be comin, for that headpiece you can't cope For my brother, I even kill a Pope, word to mother Serial, killa, style from the Isle of Stat My peoples are you with me where you at? Shit's gettin deep in here, I mean like thick Niggaz lookin all in my face like they want dick It's about to hit the fan, hit the flo' That's all I can stands, and I can't stands no mo' What is it? Niggaz think they bigga Because they got the finga on the trigga of a biscuit They don't know I'm wicked, when I start to kick it With the raw sound, wash it down with a Mystic Better yet a Snapple, nigga want the juice But he don't want the hassle Thought they trying to overthrow the castle Better yet the temple, I'm comin to your town Black down, the rental, car, the pistol YAH! If you don't want a burn from glock Then beware, I buck shots, meaning what, the buck stops Here, no more dough will be made Unless it's being made by who... the 1-6-Ooh Chamber four (1-6-Ooh) Chamber four Temple number nine, temple number nine I'm the original G-O-D Making young ladies scream is my specialty when I go ooh-wah, ooh-wah, ooh-wah, girls wanna get hype From the funky fresh music that was stereotyped When I kill, that ol' mad rugged flow Not sayin Ason, is like a duck of disco Or a disco duck, I'm strictly hip hop Yo, Ason, what's up? I can't stop... Wu-Tanging, flipping the script and You could test my skills, but niggaz must be trippin Coked up from sniffin, you're the one who's riffin I'm not Opie, save that old shit for Andy Griffith You start to flip, now ya slip, cuz you're slippin While you sleep I be the God on point, like Scottie Pippen As I, jump on stage, cold flip a rip a show Strip or rip a hoe, ready like Bo Jackson while I'm still taxin, I'm maxin Relaxin, sittin backs and, laying tracks and Again and again when I rock this jam I wanna see 'em up in the air, throw up your hand Introducin, the one-man band A child that's wild, now with the style, couldn't stand Niggaz wanna jump, then stepped, to the center Of the rhyme inventor, MC tormentor You get jacked and slapped, across the MC map I laugh at ya ass, on a horse shack Come on through I black and blue your whole crew Then I get rudie with the Hong Kong Phooey The Ol' Dirty Bastard, MC killer Money maker, Brooklyn, Shaolin style That I lay down like tile Gotta hit you up, one blaow, so you better come down...
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Copy to Clipboard: 16th Chamber, temple number five Somebody said it's on, if it is then I'll be set To blow a nigga up, with my Five Fingers of Death I bring it to his whole damn fam, understand If he frontin, on any man down with the Clan I be comin, for that headpiece you can't cope For my brother, I even kill a Pope, word to mother Serial, killa, style from the Isle of Stat My peoples are you with me where you at? Shit's gettin deep in here, I mean like thick Niggaz lookin all in my face like they want dick It's about to hit the fan, hit the flo' That's all I can stands, and I can't stands no mo' What is it? Niggaz think they bigga Because they got the finga on the trigga of a biscuit They don't know I'm wicked, when I start to kick it With the raw sound, wash it down with a Mystic Better yet a Snapple, nigga want the juice But he don't want the hassle Thought they trying to overthrow the castle Better yet the temple, I'm comin to your town Black down, the rental, car, the pistol YAH! If you don't want a burn from glock Then beware, I buck shots, meaning what, the buck stops Here, no more dough will be made Unless it's being made by who... the 1-6-Ooh Chamber four (1-6-Ooh) Chamber four Temple number nine, temple number nine I'm the original G-O-D Making young ladies scream is my specialty when I go ooh-wah, ooh-wah, ooh-wah, girls wanna get hype From the funky fresh music that was stereotyped When I kill, that ol' mad rugged flow Not sayin Ason, is like a duck of disco Or a disco duck, I'm strictly hip hop Yo, Ason, what's up? I can't stop... Wu-Tanging, flipping the script and You could test my skills, but niggaz must be trippin Coked up from sniffin, you're the one who's riffin I'm not Opie, save that old shit for Andy Griffith You start to flip, now ya slip, cuz you're slippin While you sleep I be the God on point, like Scottie Pippen As I, jump on stage, cold flip a rip a show Strip or rip a hoe, ready like Bo Jackson while I'm still taxin, I'm maxin Relaxin, sittin backs and, laying tracks and Again and again when I rock this jam I wanna see 'em up in the air, throw up your hand Introducin, the one-man band A child that's wild, now with the style, couldn't stand Niggaz wanna jump, then stepped, to the center Of the rhyme inventor, MC tormentor You get jacked and slapped, across the MC map I laugh at ya ass, on a horse shack Come on through I black and blue your whole crew Then I get rudie with the Hong Kong Phooey The Ol' Dirty Bastard, MC killer Money maker, Brooklyn, Shaolin style That I lay down like tile Gotta hit you up, one blaow, so you better come down...
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