GZA Firehouse


My life rest in a .45, aim for head, chest fortified

Sons look for revenge, out of stress, daughters cry

Got to do it here, can’t afford to try

Thought the gutter ended in the ‘Ville, then I saw the ‘Stuy

They get wet daily, it’s a live nigga water ride

Slow and steady win the race, step aside, let the tortoise by

It’s the hundred man street value hundred grand

Instinct, nothing planned, been through shit you couldn’t understand

Caine, hec, and the ‘juan. I’m repping the lifeless

Weapon of Christ. Is the blunt out? I’m steppin’ in

Checkin’ for secondary devices, live in the real world

Fuck, get love from a real girl, raised my sister

Amongst Islam and the crime, now she a ill pearl

Never seen nothing like me, I’m for those who get it on nightly

You need a boost of strength, put it on, recite me

I tour with toast, cuz drama’s always close

Feeling the waves, killa praise, applaud my folks

From the court most raw, absorb the quotes

For sure I’m the cure, and this more of the dose

Yeah, I’m from the bottom but I look forward to gross

[Hook: GZA (Ka)]

In the gutter, some ride, some chill (some chill)

I’m from the gutter, some ‘Stuy, some ‘Ville (some ‘Ville)

Know many brothers, some cry, some build

Word to the mother, some lie, some steal (steal)

Some get popped, some die, some heal (some heal)

Some get knocked, some hide and some real

(Some even bust shots, some live, some kill)

(But that’s gutter where Ka and them chill)


Slim nigga with the fat pound, back down

Most brolic dude, try to move, hit him in the face

Never again taste solid food. Same nigga

If I’m in solitude, or with the wildest crew

Bulletproof down my coats like Ghost’s wallets, too

I run wit a crook or two, look who escaped out Brooklyn Zoo

Fuck that queen, I show you what a knight, and a rook’ll do

New York City Bronson, heat up quicker than Vinnie Johnson

A block got Bloods now, it’s like a mini Compton

To have honey smiling, need money piling

Bundles, bundles, bundles, a hundred thousand

That’s why with my gun I’m browsing

On the hottest strip to see who I gotta hit to start running housing

I listen to my id, respect my ego

If I need council, bounce through, check my people

The first on Earth with the same thirst I accept is equal

Never move with crews, you lose if they steps beneath you

I rep it lethal and beef might elect to mesquite you

From where beef greet you. Do as much as dirt as us

But they preach lethal

The block is crashed, the blast from the heat teach you

Get one lesson, fail, oh well, the streets keep you

Pat his jeans, one magazine, She sleep you



I embody, every nigga who carried a shotty

Forced to grow up quick, never sat on the potty

Went from crawl to run, we want all or none

Being fatherless bothered us, everybody who called him son

Block scholastic, sunny chips from the rock jurassic

For heavy glory, mark territory fore I rot in casket

Thought our young committee was gon’ run the city

One fear is being unprepared, so I brung the smitty

If you dare come and get me, I’m from royalty

I represent myself, don’t need no lawyer fee

People call on me, cuz I’m ready when it’s urgent

Too much grace to tremble, hand steady as a surgeon

GZA Stringplay

[Method Man]

Uh, and it goes like this

Uh uh uh uh, it goes like that

Now let me tell you who I am

Up early in the morning, dressed in black

Who dat? [echoes]


Yo, yo, Marvel this theatrical, drama on stage

Broadway classical, led men to rage

Like currents, the beat change and now a flow is strange

You in the arctic wit wolves that viciously main

Thugs that roam clubs, in the dark wit fireworks that spark

The saltwater vibrations comin from sharks

Blood-thirsty kids bite just as well as I write

You’re like secretaries who can’t type, you’re no use

Broke down vessels who want a boost, there’s no jokes

Quick fast you, get stumped cuz you played, your organ pump Kool-Aid,

from Indiana wit the Jones of a Lost Crusade

Hip-hop done hit the church,

choir girls rockin mini skirts The b-side kept plenty hurt

Push like the shovels in snow storms

And stack piles of foul, the shit you must GROW ON! [echoes]

[Method Man]

Uh and it goes like this

Uh uh uh uh, it goes like that

Uh and it goes like this

Uh uh uh uh, it goes like that

Pay no attention to the evil they speak You caught the beef

Wit the equal eye, poisonous beats from underneath

Crack the concrete wit two left feet Head on my meat

Ain’t no games here we playin for keeps (WE PLAY FOR KEEPS!)

Introducing, the crowd seducing man on the street

Penitentiaries is either half-dead or too sweet

Back to basic, condition-al god, plus I can take it

Wagin war within the matrix, it’s hard to see

Touch, hear, smell or even taste it, take your places

We runnin in these human races, bucking naked

Back-slappin kid yappin, actin villian

catchin feelin like we cap peelin as if we killin

every brick in every project building

From Cabrini Green to Tildens,

sincerely yours Mista Meth and Maximilion (da millions, da millions)

(Ka ka ka ka ka ka ka KAAA!) (da millions ha!)

Uh and it goes like this

Uh uh uh uh, it goes like that

Uh and it goes like this

Uh uh uh uh, it goes like that

Uh and it goes like this

Uh uh uh uh, it goes like that

Uh and it goes like this

Uh uh uh uh, it goes like that

Uh uh uh uh

Uh uh uh uh

Wu-Tang Killa Bees on the swarm



Wu-Tang Killa Bees on the swarm

And it goes like this

GZA Luminal


This is a tale of a town with the population

Of approximately two thousand people

They small close in their community with crime

And murder, we’re virtually unheard of

With front doors, were always left unlocked

A place where mayhem only happens in your wildest dreams


For some, the sun will never come out tomorrow

Like those in this heart pounding tale of random horror

Of a body count, after trashin’ it, they done with it

Victims inflicted with passionate punishment

Specific offers of horrific torture

That left crime scenes, that retired law enforcers

This ruthlessness knew no bounds, as he beat him down

Shot him while gagged and bound, kept the whole town

Shocked, with they doors locked, fire arms cocked

Major roads blocked, no one knows when he knocks

As a kid he killed three pets of an attorney

So his child passion became a life long journey

Grew into a world of destruction, abduction

Left many body parts flowin’ on the Hudson

Whether fountain or ditch, after the ride you hitched

Screams is high pitched from scars you can’t stitch

Mutilated and decapitated, white collar chicks

Just from his involvement in local politics

His outfit stained with the blood of the slain

While his backyard full of skeletal remains

His goal in life, was preparation for death

An autopsy showed affixation, loss of breath

Was it his fascination, for strangulation

The lynchings in the ’20’s was his inspiration

Unspeakable acts that made front page

Motivated by an unexplainable rage

[Interlude: samples]

“A suspected killer plaguing this community

Has once again eluded police and detectives”

“We have no leads, no photos, no suspects”

“This nameless, faceless murderer

Has killed a couple, execution style, in their own home

Smashed a 12-year old Little League ball player skull, with a baseball bat”

“We have no leads, no photos, no suspects”

The State psychologist, forensic pathologist

Warned the detective to search beyond the obvious

They ruled out the possibility that the killa be

Physically fit with athletic ability

Talley and murder, on his agenda

There was no word, and it’s code for “surrender”

So when the headlines had announced the arrest, the repercussion

Was his trial became a lightning rod for discussion

Compellin’ evidence, statements from residents

Validated guilt as he maintained his innocence

From the hair to the fiber, broke the bondage wire

The stains on the carpet consisted with saliva

DNA directly linked to the psycho

Luminal made it glow, was test to Type 0

For many years, a lot of murders went unsolved

A lot of blood resolve as guns still revolve

The bullets had names that made the frames shatter

Most savage massacre that made the brains scatter

Detectives astounded by the scope of the crime

Made a hard discovery from one of many signs

While questionin’ a man he picked up on a scanner

He reacted in a loud and agitated matter

And once they tried to read him his rights

He turned cold as ice

GZA Those Were The Days

Those were the days, back in Junior High

For an 8th grader, my style was kinda fly

And just to prove I was an MC Pro

I often sponsored a classroom show

And the hype part of my imagination

Was making my homeroom a hip hop station

Minutes before the late bell would ring

I would greet the audience and then I’ll swing

A lyric or two as the students barked

Beacuse my rhymes had sparked

Off somethign causing the class to mingle

To a rhythm which is now a 12″ single

Letting off many styles of hip hop

Holding the mic that I made in wood shop

Forget gold, my key chain was a cable

Two math textbooks were turntables

And for a mixer, something much cooler

A penny being cross faded on a ruler

Measuring dope beats that were flexed

From hands that played a drum roll on a desk

From my home girl, her name, fly as Emory

Sweet memory

I remember sitting in my art class

Drawing up lyrics kinda fast

The outcome, a masterpiece

Live shows with hyped up rhymes released

As if lyrics were flowing from the heavens above

I’ll grab a mic and provoke a push to a shove

From boys and girls who broke necks to see

The lyrics G.O.D.

Those were the days

Now it’s high school, lunch room’s the scene

And I’m ready to flip the routing

In the cafeteria, period three

And here I come with the JVC

I go in my pocket and pull out a mic

Plug it in, check one-two…alright

Now who wanna show and prove their MC skills?

A brother stepped forward and tried to get ill

But when it came time to live out his name

He kicked rhymes that all sounded the same

But I did him in with a matter of time

And he was done with one victorious rhyme

He was shocked because he knew he was rocked

Along with his classmates from off his block

YO!, I’m telling you, I flipped his whole crew

One against one or one against two

Or three or four brothers who swore they can rhyme

Battled me and got taken out every time

From my style and my dope profile

Plus the period of time that I rocked for awhile

As a motivated, dominated supreme force

Cultivated, activated cream and source

The wise educated and born to be

The one who would flip an MC

Those were the days

GZA Publicity

Who be first to catch this beat down? My rappages be the source

Ego trip remain victory, and no loss

Rap sheet show you details of wars in streets

Where the most live, catch vibe and blaze heat

Double XL kings who rush through, got right on

Quick to stress ya, sound crew to get a mic on

Math lets the plates spin consecutive hits,

Promoters’ face grin the dawn catch fist,

Keep the paper direct wire see them jake be tire

Unlike the story that echoes out with chronic liars

Like those who feast on hogs, eat murder dogs

A village voice kid with his heart and soul calm

Killa bees produce the honey, that fortify the platinum

Plus the dj claws fiend to scratch them

Thus street team takes shots of criticism

Promotional vehicles wiffin wit mad rhythm

With the lockout of one of our source sports

We spice the stand and launch the stage on the ball court

During the first half, number one draft rap lords,

Swing swords, slam microphone, shatter billboards

Forty-eight in sight, after inhalin the herb

Vision impaired, when the silhouette emerged

One nut out the clan get your whole click banned

From radio pd’s cut your raps man

Forcin me to move on from one world to another

On the gulf, from the fuel jet to hover

Take cover wit the radical, urban latino

No hip-hop connection wit us and Janet Reno

I do an interview and they aim to trace my essence

To know more than is necessary blunts your weapon

My group’s nova, remain unsober

And serve high times wit king cobras i shoulder

Low-post mc’s, your whole style (lafeast[?])

Second to get your word up, then the troops unleash

Creative (low fling[?]) to the grand opening

Wit my ray gun scoping, you’re hoping

Uniforms be fridged when they walk the black beat

In the heat, of razors exposin fresh meat

In bedrock and gambling – rolling stone, out of zone

Where they can’t monitor my ‘xact poem

Collide wit the tiger beat, rappin raga

Ebony eyes, folks see the saga

GZA Uncut Material


What you know about emceein? (I know a lot)

Can you demonstrate something? (Why not?)

I’m speaking about stacks, GZA (That’s all I got)

The raw un-cut material (That’s all I drop)

The nucleus of hip hop, rap’s hallmark

They had a citywide effort to keep us in the dark

To the new details, distant wisp of light

Evidence of a terrifying threats on microphone

Rhyme stone, numerous parts combine

Strands of heavy metal form the steel arch design

Fit together seamlessly, everlasting rap

Heat-pressure generated by a blasted cap

The chamber when ya rollin’ the dice everything count

Clan royalty where the loyalty is paramount

Couldn’t be more wrong prior to your perusings

When ya spoke of us, you understated the influence

As I bury my motor-action, implode a fraction

Of ya investigation when ya askin

Aware about in ya suit and tie, cruising by

The intrepid workmen that sharpen ya shooting eye

[Chorus 2x]

Like a child I have infinite patience when I write

The victim’s dental records showed they loved to bite

The under like removed off a charged battery

Someone had his ear stuffed wit the sweets of flattery

A live wire, fired the shot in the booth

It wasn’t even in the shooting distance of truth

Who broke the barrier causing mass hysteria?

At the darkest hour in the most densed area

In a stocking cap, undercover, while disguising

I’m rapidly advancing our horizons

This path of trade with the sharp blade, open to all across the globe

They simply heard my call

We hit up, the remote and primitive land

Left walking reminders that saw it first-hand

The music was a secure link we all think

On the same page as holding the ink, now whatchu think?

[Chorus 2x]

GZA Who’s Your Rhymin’ Hero

Who’s your rhymin’ hero

I use lyrics versatile, beat up, on any style

Treat em like stepchilds and smile

I grab the mic then I check one two

Brother’s look, yo what he’s gonna do

Hmm, you know I don’t get too hyped

I just fully load up the brain and cock the mic

And blast off rhymes, within a matter of time

I’m like a mirror of organized crime

For slaying an MC who think that he might be

The first brother who could come up and fight me

Start running like you’re looking for P.C.

Protective… custody

’cause I’m blowing off, just for going off

You may think I’m showing off, ’cause every rhyme is flowing off

A dope beat that is so sweet to the eardrum

Gets the crowd prepared to hear some

Super, high-powered lyrics, specially chosen

The battle’s a snowstorm and brothers are frozen

Thirty-two degrees below zero

Now who’s your rhymin’ hero [3X]

The Genius, is a rap professor

Casual dresser, you may dress fresher

But the way I speak is so poetic

Describe me on the mic, I’m energetic

Even if you roll up strapped with an uzi

Still your wack lyrics couldn’t (Do Me!!)

Yo, I’m not the type of guy

’cause my lyrics are high powered, meaning fly

I’m not barn, I’m building hard

You thought that I was weak, well let me speak

With me being frozen this MC weather come to

all linked together

See I got wreck, wrapping things in check

You got germs, worms, plus a lack of respect

I’ll be teachin, you couldn’t handle

A style like mine, I dismantle

Just by pickin up the mic, and start showin

I cold turn it out, and yo then

I get super serious strong and then furious

Give an MC something to make them curious

on, professors, in college

I stomp em out just with supreme knowledge

Bustin up witches, yo I give stitches

Super-suckin-fuckin-lickin-some-sexy-scali bitches

I go off, and off men often

See the December’s Primateen mist coughin

’cause I’m the God building hard never barred

Bringin crazy static to your attic

Now I’m known to flip a show

Now who’s your rhyming hero [4X]

You have some MC’s who get too hyped

From a ten word rhyme it took em hours to type

That’s not MCing, just an MC being

weak on his words and never thinkin bout freeing

Poitive thoughts that I let come out

I’m The Genius of this, I know what it’s about

’cause on the mic I’m a leader, school I am a reader

When it comes to sex, a strong good breeder

MC’s max but every one I wax

and collect the cash money without being taxed

Now that I have your attention, I’d like to mention

Don’t battle me at any rap convention

If so I’ll show all who wants to know

To detemine who’s an amateur and who is a pro

Don’t mean to get ill, ’cause I know how you feel

You lack words like mines, talent and skill

Now I’m known to flip a show

Now who’s your rhyming hero [4X]

GZA Skit #4

A gun is made in America every 6 seconds.

30% of families with children keep loaded guns in the home.

In the United States more than ten children are killed by handguns every day.

Guns are weapons. Don’t destroy our children’s lifes!