Ol' Dirty Bastard - Damage Lyrics
Intro:Peace [peace!][Dirty, Ol Dirty Bastard][The Genius! Genius]The Genius [The Genius, the Genius]Verse One: Ol Dirty Bastard [GZA in brackets]I'll grab and the mic and now I damage you, cut your whole staminaHere comes the medical examinerOne verse then you're out for the count[Bring the ammonia] make sure he sniffs the right amountWake him up and then I ask himWhy did he intend this --competition to get an ass kickin so tremendousBoy you shouldn't bother thisLeave me alone like the [son said G or he'll be fatherless!]I got the asiatic flow mixed with discoRoll up on the scene like the Count of Monte Criscoand MC's start to vanish[I stepped up to a jet black kid, started speakin spanish!Yo he wasn't from PanamaI asked him how he get so dark, the nigga said suntama!He responded so fast, you made me laugh]Ha-ha-ha, HARARRRH [then I scared-his ass!][Kick the hundred strongest rhymesI brought out the punk in himCaught him with a strong five deadly venomTold him enter the Wu-TangWitness the Shaolin slang, that'll crush the shit you bring]I watch your ass take a big fall, why?!My Main Source, is like a friendly game of stickballAnd as you step up to bat man [I play the riddler]You try to do me for a rhyme [then I'll change to Hitler]Go out like Nazi; you'll be wishin your *****in ass stayedhome and played [Yahtzee!]Or watchin Happy Days sweatin [Poxie]with Ralphie and Richie Cunningham, Joni and [Chachi]Wu, who? Me gettin wreck so I'm throughLike a ten and a half foot, gettin in a seven [shoe][Now picture THAT with a Minolta]Have your ass doin some Night Fever shit like John TravoltaI come strong I make knowledge born, I flip the scriptand rock on from P.M. [past the *****ing Dawn]Pass the Hammer you're broke down, niggaz grab my what whatCan't understand it here's the panaroma[A complete view of how I defeat you]Should of stepped to those *****in kids who tried to [beat you]Yeah I bust that ass before[You ran to Texas and came back but forgot the chainsaw!]And want to perform a massacreBetter be coming with some mother*****ing shit that's spectacularCrush the person who did em, well you just betterSo I'm stepping to your [raggedy ass jetta]Put the pedal to the metalYou and your DJ change your name to Ma and Pa Kettleas I [pass the bone, kicks your every measure]It's not a Newport but it's still live with pleasure[C'mon don't be silly, just a bag of sensimilliRolled up in a] Motown Philly[I used to write all the time when I smokedGrab the mic, then I kinda like went for brokeWith visually concepts strongest rhymes and bicepsLyrically speakin, three to four rhymes then chokeSome think they be harmin this, claimin they be bombin this]But they still remains a-nom-ynousI pull strings like Jimi HendrixRide more beats that go backs to the days of Eddie KendricksI teach the truth to the youth, I say [hey youth]Here's the truth, better start wearing [bullet proof]Arm yourself with a shield[Before you get trapped up] just like the Children in the Cornfield
