Fresh from the Morgue Bronze Nazareth (Ft. RZA)

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[Hook: Bronze Nazareth]
Yeah, nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue
The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone; trade my lawn for a shore
Nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue
The teflon lungs, put the dice to the floor
Nigga, I'm ill; fresh from the morgue
Yes, I'm gone; trade my lawn for a shore

[Verse 1: Bronze Nazareth]
Nigga, I'm ill; chain still the back of a gorilla
Records so sharp, DJ's slash their finger
We chop trees; never yellin' "timber"
Float off on leaves, cough and wheeze; a Magellan drifter
Off the Richter; scale triple-beam, coffin lifter
Subliminal seminal, often lifted
Incredibly criminal, how it goes off on the discus
Breakfast is my lunch; the feds heard my song, now they wanna search my trunk
Told 'em got that white in the sheets of that numb
Photo-copied bright, I'm that sign in your palm
Turned 'em zombie-white like the sickest in the morn
Impregnate the song; molotvs tossed, detonate engulf my blogs
I take what I want, you niggas still beggin'
And I don't got no jewelry to flaunt, I bought a building
Sicilians and gold Brazilians over my lap like pavilions
If anyone dare touch 'em, they might as well commit 'em