R.E.C. Room

Killa hill, killa killa hill
Killa hills
Killa killa hill
Killa hills
Killa killa hill, 10304 style kid
All my DNV recpostry niggas
You out there?
Is you out there?

I throw your brain in the cobra clutch, behold the rush
A dazzlin' display if you can get close enough
Cold Crush like the 4 sting of anaconda
Fierce darts that'll pierce through solid armor
Lounge in the barracks with Blue and Cappadonna
Spider-Man, identity Peter Parker
Crowd pleaser, register off the meter
Vocal street-sweeper, buck shots through the speaker
Pleasure seekers, 50 thou' in the stands
True fans get it hot like Jamaica sands
Conquer land, wide like an eagle wingspan
Clansman stabbin' the track with both hands
Not a lost soul who fall for fool's gold
I shine like a diamond in the true state of cold
Too hot to handle, too cold to hold
Rap with a road block, I might lose control
Hold the globe in my iron palm
One hand holds the firearm on a mission that's life-long
Stride calm Through The Fire like Chaka Khan
World wide on the web without the dot.com

Killa Bees live in the place be
Burn third-degree on the M.I.C
So deadly goes the catastrophe
And this is the way we crash the party
Say, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec
Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec

Yo, Killa Bees swarmin', Protect Ya Neck
Was the warnin', so, proceed with caution
I walk with my swordsmen, we all in
Together, Wu-Tang forever gon' win
From Puerto Rico 'cross the caves of Berlin
Echoin' through cell blocks and federal pens
It be the Wu-Tang, you came and went
They left the game mentally and physically bent
What I invent, sharp as barbwire fence
I represent, sure to make a grand entrance
With the deadly lecture, contents under pressure
Inspectah, put your rap in the stretcher
Featherweight contenders surrender
T.K.O., first round knockout, vets to big spenders
Journey on the mic like Marco Polo
Internal bleedin' occurs to your photo
Thoughts brought forth as wild as up north
It's a blood-sport, get rushed for tough talk
But I hold my ground like it's high noon
While police tapes surround the mic room
I jump on a live tune, provide the boom
Those who consume become faint from the fumes

Killa Bees live in the place be
Burn third-degree on the M.I.C
So deadly goes the catastrophe
And this is the way we crash the party
Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec, Rec

Yo, yeah, yo I hit Medina, hand-cocked and ever-greener
Trees got me leanin' in the 7-seater
Vocal street-sweeper, you might get like a 3-pointer
Urban, peace deservin', warrin' with the C-Cyphers
I, black lotus ignite with high-voltage
Diagnosis, high doses of ex-