(...the skill of Shaolin)nRZA: Yes the good life, you know *clinks glass*nGZA: What the fuck is that, hell's angels?n*Ol Dirty singing in the background*n[Ahh Mr. Bobby Steels, Tony Starks on line one for Mr. Bobby Steels]nRZA: Steels over here, Steels over herenPeace, Starks what's going on baby?nYeah everything is lovely over here.nGZA: No shoes and no shirt on, sure the hills is where it's at?nRZA: Yeah the, the Maximillion is sure herenI'm over here with Noodles and I got Lucky Hands with menGZA: You got soul, R&B, classics? All that shit right?nRZA: Yeah... Grey Ghost right in front of me right nownGrey Ghost standing right here.nYeah he has a briefcase; ohh, OK, OK I got you.nAight thanks. *phone clicks*nGGh: Bobby Steels.nGZA: Huh?nRZA: Mr. Grey Ghost, good to see you good to see you good to see you.nGGh: A pleasure.nRZA: So is everything OK, is everything working as we planned?nGGh: Everything is working out, very nicely.nDo you have the cash, twenty-thousand dollars?nGZA: Be nice to have a little breeze.nBreeze on by fuck the cops.nRZA: Do we have the cash? We don't have to talk that, hey heynGZA: Get the fuck outta here with that hell's angels bullshit!nRZA: We got the cash we know Cash Rules Everything Around this MotherfuckernUmm, let me ask you...nGZA: The fuck outta here!nGGh: Do you have the full amount? Twenty thousand as we agreed upon?nGZA: Fucking hell's bastards.nRZA: Let me ask you a question Mr. Grey Ghost --nDo you know a a Don Rodriguez?nGGh: I know no such person.nRZA: Don Rodriguez from the Bronx? Don Rodriguez?nGGh: I don't know who you're talking about.nRZA: I think you do know him cause your fuckin friend Donnis down at one-twenty precinct right now singingnhis fuckin ass like a fuckin bird.nGZA: Life of a drug dealernRZA: The fuckin guys is cominnGGh: Do you believe him?nnKillah hills 10304nnRestaurants on a stake-outnSo order the food to take outnChaos, outside a spark steakhousenMaintain the power, I feel the deal's gone sournNigga Mr. Wedding, late a fuckin half hournAnd his man who bought land from Tony StarksnWhile he was contractin bricklayin jobs in city parksnhe's a loan shark, bitches raise a grand to a fingernIn a garment that's stretched, got it sewn like SingernCause all that talk blasphemy this kid after menfor the heist, in a Burlington Coat FactorynFuck it, he turned snake so my nigga Cash stole his copilotnwho used to drive like sacks of blow on this remotenarea, we label Dead Man's IslandnTwo hundred miles South from ThailandnRight off the docks, I got the various custom made yachtsnBurial plots, for my niggaz hit with fatal shotsnThere's no need for us to spray up the scenenI use less men, more powerful shit for my teamnLike my man Muhammad from AfghanistannGrew up in Iran, the nigga runs a neighborhood newsstandnA wild Middle Eastern, bomb specialistnIntiated, at eleven to be a terroristnHe set bombs in bottles of champagnenAnd when niggaz popped the cork, niggaz lost half they brainsnLike this ex-worker, tried to smuggle a half a keynin his left leg, even underwent surgerynThey say his pirate limp gave him awaynAs the feds rushed him, comin through U.S. CustomsnNow look whose on the witness stand singin, a well known sopranonA smash hit from Sammy Gravanonhere's the plan minimum for the hit, two hundred grandnHalf time at the game blastin niggaz out the standsnThe sharp-shooters hit the prosecutor, judges are sentnPhotographs of they wives takin bathsnAlong with briefcase filled with one point five, that's the bribenTake it or commit suicidenFirst rule, anyone who schemes on the gold in SyrianI want they small intestines ripped from the interiornI got a price for those jewels, ship em freight cargonDon't forget to launder the cream through Wells FargonReconstruct those processin plants for the call of Costa RicanFour hundred barrels of ethernTwo hundred pounds of reefernand fifty immigrants with fake VisasnnLife of a drug dealernKillah hills, 10304nThe saga continues