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¡Bienvenido a Hill Street Blues!

La vida como un shorty no debería ser tan dura. The Wu is comin thru, the outcome is critical, Muckin wit my style, is sort of like a Miracle. I smoke on the mic like smoking Joe Frazier, the hell raiser, raising hell with the flavor. I’m no joker! Play me like poker! Be on you like a house on fire! Smoke ya! Leave it up to me while I be livin’ proof Dare to compare, get pierced just like an ear, the zoo-we-do-wop-bop strictly hardware.


Be on you like a house on fire! Smoke ya! It was the night before New Year’s all through the projects, not a handgun was silent, not even a Tec. Lyrically perform armed robbery, flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me. Shame on you when you stepped through to The Ol Dirty Bastard straight from the Brooklyn Zoo. I come rough, tough like an Elephant tusk. I leave the mic in body bags, my rap style has, the force to leave you lost, like the tribe of Shabazz. To kick the truth to the young black youth.


Yes, the rhythm, the rebel, alone in my level heat it up past the boiling point of metal. One who just represent the Wu-Tang click with the game and soul.

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Warmoesstraat 52A, 1012 JG Amsterdam

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