[Intro: Reporter, Samuel L. Jackson & Big L]
Shyheim, the youngest member of the Wu-Tang Clan, was jumped in a Staten Island club and his face still bares the scar
And you will know my name is the Lord
Shyheim, yeah
Corleone
Uh-huh, check it out

[Verse 1: Big L]
Y'all niggas be walkin' the streets iced out
Not knowin' the wolves'll put the price out
To get you stuck and put your lights out
Or catch your car at the light 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 gettin' rich off
I done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack
Now I want a gold plaque, can I get a soul clap?
It ain't no callin' time-out once I climb out
The garbage can with two 9s out and blow your spine out, uh
I got you cats by a long-shot, every song hot
1-3-9 and Lenox is a strong block
I left enough of y'all stinkin'
What the fuck was y'all thinkin'?
My shit tight, nigga, I spit right, nigga
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 digit-y
I'm not pussy so I don't need security
Like Big L, I'm MVP on the street
I done wet more people than the pool and the beach
So be easy or I'll expose you like shock TV
OG, that's why they put me in the 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 screwin' off a silencer (Uh-uh)

[Interlude: Samuel L. Jackson]
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 & Samuel L. Jackson]
You got somethin' to say, then cough it out
'Cause niggas 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 niggas 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'
My name is the Lord

[Verse 4: Shyheim]
Niggas be actin' like they hoodlums
Until they get shot up or locked up, now they Bloods and Muslims (Uh-huh)
In the bullpens, bang 'em like a Benz
Touch kid, nothin' thin, put his ear to his chin
I gotta win and beat this game, and die rich and old (No doubt)
'Cause these player-hatin' niggas 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