Yo, too many songs, weak rhymes is mad long Make it brief, son, half short and twice strong No doubt you took time searching, eventually it was prime urgent For you to examine the rhyme motion Lace emcees with styles when they rhyme drunk On a label hunt until 20,000 out the trunk Eight-diagram sword swinging on my tank force RZA throwing the disc, but then change the bank source It can't float, must be the speech impediment You got lost off the snare, often peach the president Weather in Amsterdam, smoking seven grams of green Then you pack a thousand white teens in tight jeans It's really unpredictable shots, critical to analytical analogy Insurance policies, why? Said he know that sound, but then find a note Couldn't recognize, pass him the fuck behind the ropes Too many dope niggas I see starving Catch a single deal, a possible plea bargain Blue sling, regardless to whom or what Five mics, five nights, hanging from the balcony Dropping 25 flights, a fugitive bass playing rap czar Smoked a cigar, it's Prince on the strings of his guitar As high as Wu-Tang get, allow us pop this shit Just like black shoe fit, and you get weary But don't fuck with Ed, Ed The cow got a hold on ya, doing exactly What the fuck of marijuana, this nigga nasty Deep in the dirty dungeon, buggin', lovin' The way these rhymes keep coming at ya, splash ya Get your headpiece fractured, with killer cuts from the Shropshire Slash ya, rip shit up, got this whole thing, thing mastered Show nothing, MC, too good to be tough John John, bring the phenomenon, I co-crush MC, inferiorities, they froze up Ice cold, as we move on, saga unfold Captivated by a saga that go untold Like Gophanger, caught up in a cliffhanger Yo, INS, another curette, danger Break out the vest, now it's tactical warfare It's on here, come with your shield and hardware It be on here, don't ever roam In the Naked City, 8 million stories, none pretty Barman with the witty, unpredictable Conditioning be critical Piece to 10, getting high on your physical This next drink is a toast to your memory When I go, how many niggas gon' remember me? As high as Wu-Tang get, allow us pop this shit Just like black shoe fit, and you get weary But don't fuck with Ed, Ed