Six Directions of Boxing

Album: The Man with the Iron Fists (2012)
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  • When I'm locked down I use Tim's as my shower slippers
    I'm in the background mingling with the powder flippers
    In the basement, hard-body power lifters
    I crush sour in the sifter, see how I lift her
    Universal God, I stay scientific
    The kid with the Golden Arms, Iron Fisted
    Stay Asiatic, so cinematic
    Noise in the attic, bang out with the automatics
    It's hood politics that bring the hunger back
    I'm straight chopping wood, call me the lumberjack
    Check the catalog, put out a hundred packs
    Watch for drug sniffing dogs, they coming from the back
    I'm straight thunder clap, the funky drummer's back
    It's pure Dopium, give 'em a heart attack
    I stay stacking plaques like ancient artifacts
    Joe Namath in the game, I'm the quarterback

    Eight balls of coke, blunt to the greenery
    Pounds in the trunk get you a concrete scenery
    Handmade ox'll get you dumped in the mess hall
    Snitch niggas run to C.O.'s to confess all
    This is street knowledge, knowledge I screw college
    Like a speech from the GZA, sharp like the RZA
    Don't run with a scissor, nigga the truth is the
    Truth, now I'mma drop a few jewels in the booth
    Used to boot crack, stuff 'em inside a tennis ball
    Ans throw it when they rushing the block, trust no cops
    Driving around with two mitts in my socks
    Cooked coke gon' get you in more trouble than money
    Don't crawl through dust juice, the pigs is hungry
    You think they ain't watching? They watching while you uptown coppin'
    Back home, while you're cooking and chopping
    They scheming the block, waiting to get it popping

    He had a sword and an axe with cuts
    Under a road that was woven from silver and gold, waxed it up
    His army was so great to quarantine
    His crops and livestock boost the economy
    Many would travel by boat to see him
    His image don most schools and coliseums
    A merchant, hustle those silk and velvets
    Portrait illuminated when the torch was well-lit
    Picture so beautifully painted that
    One thought it would breathe or move cause it would leave a mood
    Or energy, you see his wife practiced Yoga
    Made herbal enhancers that had saved the soldiers
    Guard the treasures in the chambers, halls and vaults
    Well-prepared for all assaults
    Heavy guarded village
    Armed with the sharpest weapons designed to pierce and cause blood spillage

    From a young teen, a murder team, inspired by crime
    See Allah Just granted permission for my position
    Sit down, write rhymes, escaping this repetitive cycle
    Slinging dimes, losing time, doing hard time
    Teaching y'all mathematically, come see
    The epitome of what you wanna be, emcee
    My semi-auto gun ran 'em totally at the sound clash
    The mic touched, dance mashed up, pounds of the best
    Green glass bottles of don, I sip the liquor slow
    Flow so devastating when I go solo
    Even when I'm dolo, pretty gun I'm holding
    Head swollen off the solid gold soul
    Iron Mic pole beat your face like you stole something, trust me
    Living life royalty, all wise and healthy
    Welcome to the best of me, from knowledge to infinity
    Never stopping my projectory, I'm galactic

    Yo, peace to all of the gods and all of the earths
    We been building like this ever since the first day of birth
    The more I start to build, the better I feel
    Keep ignorant niggas from me, use dummies for shield
    You're not Godbody son, you're just garbage and real snotty
    Cherry head gaylord still stuck in the lobby
    This the first Now Born, son I'm blessed with mad lessons
    Conquered crazy devils, my mind is a weapon
    You can't fast with me and avoid the swine
    You degenerate emcee, I'm the best of mankind
    Allahu Akbar straight jewels and real stars
    I'm down with the RZA, got help for the Widow's Son
    Pop off on you, you ain't nothing to me, dun dun!
    Original Tyzeem, Holy water, Visine
    Designated wordplay, God respect my deen
    Shine on little stars and respect the Queen

    New York Giant, call me Deck Umenyiora
    Fresh with the water connect, two and a quarter
    Deal with the dealer, don't trust the transporter
    My job is done once I get it to the border
    Perico, coke game is kilos of cocaine
    Hypodermic needle to the groove, I dose veins
    Overdoser, you know the product is raw, right?
    Lines take you there like I wrote it with off-white
    Got him bent up, hands looking like a tin cup
    Sorry no consignment, get your ends up
    Move from the gate now, he on his way straight to Jake now
    I'm on the hush with my weight loud
    Got the shakes now, how they want it bad
    Five or six heads chipping in for a bag
    I got the works like a burger deluxe
    Get your fix while I'm serving it up, word to us Writer/s: ADAM KING FEENEY, DARRYL HILL, DARRYL ROBERT HILL, DENNIS COLES, DENNIS DAVID COLES, ELGIN EVANDER TURNER, GARY E. GRICE, GARY GRICE, JAMAL ARIEF, JASON HUNTER, JASON S. HUNTER, LAMONT HAWKINS
    Publisher: Downtown Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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