Woorden: Inspectah Deck. Grand Prix.

Get out, and use your real skills
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the lyrical grand prix
We have our drivers racin' for a three million dollar purse
Winner takes all, gentlemen start your engines

Give me room, hit the tune
Feature presentation comin' soon, early June
Killa Bee platoon, well groomed
Spells doom, raise the volume
You react like a werewolf in a full moon

With the force of a Trojan horse pushin', forward
Have your seatbelt fastened
We blastin' into orbit, movin' toward a new chamber
Wu-banger number 9, expert precision and design
Mastermind the plan took a matter of time
From the confinds of the cold world I shine

It's amazin', the grace, change in the pace
Blazin' the brakes, invadin' your space
Which remains in the race, claimin' first place
Raisin' the stakes, it's a game to disgrace

I hold many jewels, drop more than I wear
I come in peace, prepare for the warfare
The invincible fold, when they're caught in the square
And the talk mad shit when the coast is clear

Yes, ladies and gentlemen
We've just completed the first lap

Blood kin, knowledge, knowledge, I build with rap scholars
Guns and wallets, prowess, Staten Island stylist
12 men roster, live long, prosper
Street philosopher, you end up like Jimmy Hoffa

Ain't a damn thing changed but the aim, bullet range
Strange universe, I was nursed to blow your mainframe
Think first, convert, all verse live in concert
Pull a skirt, burst, while ya'll niggaz star search

Mind your's, why you eyein' mines for
Posin' like a Matten dog, I must got somethin' you wanna die for
Touch mine, reach him up, his headline, both grant
Nine inch rusty splint push through your nose vent

Got my eyes on the grand prize, place your bet
Watch me win it by a landslide, pull off an upset
Hold the burner close by my hands and my pocket
Hold the trophy high and keep my eyes on the prophet

And a new driver has entered the contest
Ladies and gentlemen, driver number 99
In the red car

Fog lights beam, car 99 Supreme
A high-powered machine spits sparks of gaboline
The smell of gasoline, motor roar, the crowd roars
The rag tuck rip, box cut caught in my jaws

Enforcin' my laws, rap mirage in my garage
The grease lightnin', dusty rose, shake him, bon voyage
Now duel of the iron, flyin' feud for you writers
The speed demon, rebel talk, triggers, freedom fighters

Was tracked in the cock pit, I'm writin' exact
I'm crushin' corners, who that kid ridin' the track
With the Wu helmet, 6th nigga, 5 cars track
The last but not least, I bliss through the scrimmage
No brakes, I dart, I'm racin' for the finish

Understand my hunger for my land down under
It's the thunderous rush, after the sounds get crush
The purse snatchin' pound, by all means snatch cream
Tear your ass out of town

As we near the final lap
Team Wu-Tang seems to be buildin'
A sizeable lead on the competition

Yo, I know how to fold 'em like Kenny Rogers
Popular demand, over stand these piranhas
Movin' on the track like a Monaco GT
I stand out similar to 3D on your TV

Easily breezin' watchin' the speed dial climb
Style of rhyme, left the foes miles behind
Leavin' skid marks on the charts
Aimed at the hearts of the fake, sparked on the tapes
It's starts from the gate, darts penetrate
Freestyle as the decoy to sharpen the bait

Holdin' major weight, my Supreme Team dominates
Circulatin', takin' all bets you place
In and out of state, twirlin' L's on the freeway
NY to SC, NC to VA, GA to MD, CA to KY
FL to IL, TX to MI

As we near the checkered flag, ladies and gentlemen
Team Wu-Tang's holdin' down the 1st, 2nd and 3rd positions
And it looks like it's goin' to be another sure win for Team Wu-Tang
As they take home another pot of gold with this three million dollar purse
Rebel INS, U-God, Street Life

Get the loot, get the loot
Cash money y'all, cash money ya'll, cash money ya'll