[Intro: Reporter & Samuel L. Jackson]
Shyheim, the youngest member of the Wu-Tang Clan, was jumped at a Staten Island club, and his face still bares the scar
*car spinning out of control and crashing*
*multiple gunshots*
And you will know my name is the Lord

[Intro: Big L]
Shyheim, yeah
Corleone
Uh-huh, check it out

[Verse 1: Big L]
Y'all n***as be walking the streets, iced out
Not knowing the wolves’ll put the price out to get you stuck and punch your lights out
Or catch your car in the night and snatch your wife out
And beat the ho up if you don't give the dough up
You got me pissed off, frontin' and your whole clique soft
If you had your Rollie on, I might cut your wrist off
Then lick off and slide your bitch off, punk
I hope you ready for the kick-off, this rap shit I'm getting rich off
I done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack
Now I wanna go plat', can I get a soul clap?
It ain’t no calling time out once I climb out
The garbage can with two nines out and blow your spine out
Oh I got you cats by a long-shot, every song hot
139 and Lennox is a strong block
I left enough a y'all stinking
What the fuck was y'all thinking?
My shit tight n***a, I spit right n***a
Yo, what?
[Verse 2: Shyheim]
Young outlaw, the state wanna get rid of me
I'll probably die from the death penalty
Y'all analog, Shyheim I keep it digity
I'm not pussy so I don't need security
Like Big L, I'm MVP on the street
I did wet more people than the pool and the beach
So be easy or I'll expose you like shock TV
O.G., that's why they put me in a movie
Don't screw me 'cause if I punch you in your face
You'll probably try and sue me and take me to Judge Judy
Look me in my eyes 'cause your handshake don't fool thee
Stapleton Staten Islander, your name's marked on the calendar
Ain't no screwing off a silencer, uh-uh

[Interlude: Samuel L. Jackson]
*gunshots*
And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger
Those who attempt to poison and destroy
My brothers, and you will know my name is the Lord

[Verse 3: Big L]
You got somethin' to say then cough it out
'Cause n***as be wantin' beef, but when you pull out the heat they ready to talk it out
What is there to talk about?
You was just frontin', now it ain't nothin', ain't that somethin'?
I should start bustin' anyway and put one of you punks in the ground
Y'all n***as be killin' me with y'all faces frown, jumpin' around
Like you scarin' us, not even
'Cause me and Shy' gon' be some thugs 'til we stop breathin'
[Break: Pulp Fiction sample]
My name is the lord

[Verse 4: Shyheim]
N***as be acting like they hoodlums
Until they get shot up or locked up, now they Bloods and Muslims (Uhu)
In the bullpens, bang 'em like a Benz
Touch kid nothing thin, put his ear to his chin
I gotta win and beat this game of dyin' rich and old
'Cause these playa-hating n***as wanna block my gold
It's untold like the truth, they thirsty for my juice
But when I let loose, have them jumpin' out their boots