[Hook: Ol' Dirty Bastard]
Get prepared for the Buddha Monk
You wanna get high? Roll up the skunk
Ladies and gentlemen..

[Intro: Ol' Dirty Bastard]
Yo, turn this shit up, man
Turn the mics open.. turn the mic up, man
I want.. I want the mic.. I want the mic to shake
The mic don't even sound good at all
Man, what's up with that shit?
Each one of these niggas try to say a rhyme
They don't wanna work through that shit
KnawI'msayin? Niggas gotta learn how to feel that shit..
If you're feelin with me, then you're dealin with filth
If you can barely hear it then you need to go

[Hook: Ol' Dirty Bastard & 12 O'Clock]
Get prepared for the Buddha Monk
You wanna get high? Roll up the skunk
Get prepared for the Buddha Monk
You wanna get high? Roll up the skunk
Ladies and gentlemen..
It's a Buddha Monk show
Brooklyn Zu niggas is slumped, high off at Duck Low
It's a Buddha Monk show
Brooklyn Zu niggas is slumped, high off at Duck Low

[Verse 1: Babyface Fensta]
Josie whales tales from a High Plains Drifter
Bounty Killer, most wanted villain
Dead or alive, to survive we strive off gun smoke
I toke the Colt .45
Desert Eagle rips through cerebral tissue
The issue, gunslinging, drug dealing
Four wheeling, appealing chicks
Up jumps the bullshit and it's a hit
A tale of two hoes, songs about clothes
Need to be thrown out your fucking window
Niggas loving hoes licking their toes
I suppose you high from the candy for the nose
Niggas is a joke, I take a toke of the lye
And all the batty boys go boom bye bye

[Hook: 12 O'Clock]
It's a Buddha Monk show
Brooklyn Zu niggas is slumped, high off at Duck Low

[Verse 2: Chilli Black]
Simply fucked up, these niggas spreadin rumors and get touched up
By M3-8-0, Musa on the low
Get you high with fly style, rugged profile
With chuckers, you know its time for some pound to go
Now suckers, get their fucking neck broke in my book
Strike, if you don't want to get hype then stay put
Bop shit like like liquid lips, spit like Mac's spit
Burning in whips, sipping and dip cops and shit
The God can't slip, I hold the weight above my shoulders
Fake toasters get bust back and still in the holster

[Verse 3: Lee-Major]
Don't play this shit backwards, it goes "MC's lack this"
Deep in the corridors of the ghettos where I yap this
Heads try to plot on this, kidnap just like slaves, du'
Doggy, he's Wu, he's the brand new craze
Young child misbehave on brand new styles that blazed
Her daddy was [?] mac back in his earlier days
I had badder days, that was better days and still pays
Still got laid, rolling on through these street trades
Each corner is equality, baby, do you follow me?
Digging in the Crates to write this sawed off biography
While your girl be hard, gosh in me, partially, properly
'Cause you know the Gods be, I be new born to this, see?
My mom's giving me a kiss and the first whiff for me to live off this
And your shit too, my god's just evil
[?] my rhymes will be finding you
Black will be designed you, dig into my chronicle
So I can unbandage you, they let you see what they want you to
But things is right in front of you

[Break: Ol' Dirty Bastard]
Ladies and gentlemen...

[Verse 4: Buddha Monk]
Yes, we leave your brain demented, these god-bodies invented
A skill of Resident Evil with no follow-up sequels
My peoples, don't let the Devil mislead you and beat you
Wicked minds they feed through, saying it here for the people
It's unbelievable, weak minds they retrieve through
Scheming for the cream, rejoice in the Land of the Dreams
Slide the poison in the weak germs, black babies turn to earthworms
In holocaust you must learn to speak your Devil terms
Your mind is tapped like forgery and everything you say is watery
What you ought to do genius is stop karma like Twelve Monkeys

[Hook]
It's a Buddha Monk show
Brooklyn Zu niggas is slumped, high off at Duck Low
It's a Buddha Monk show
Brooklyn Zu niggas is slumped, high off at Duck Low

[Verse 5: Shorty Shitstain]
I be the rap head and the mic's my pipe
I'm about to get everybody high tonight
You ain't had no good shit like this since '95
My Cuffie tribe is mad live straight from do or die
And I be coming with the good shit, sounding like dope
I know you smoke it, but you won't get high off this note
Have you up, really up like cocaine, you thought you could reign
But all you did was felt mad pain like diamonds
You could say I'm the lady's best friend
And when it come to making lyrics, I will represent
Yo, climbing the charts like a cat
I'm rolling with mad clips and gats, I can't be stopped
Like this is Shitty City and my Zu rolls thick
Flooding the country with massive hits

[Verse 6: G-Note$]
Yo, the pictures you painted and paragraphs is half-assed
A hard task to accomplish
I'm a full definition of skills being impressive
One rhyme is selfish, and all its relatives
Objective and goal, make an emcee concentrate
You're frustrated, when you examined
Vocals' moving forward, with left and right panning
You're shooting tranquilizers, reach out as spiritual touch
This Brooklyn warrior walks with stab wounds to the gut
You picked up twenty yards in rushing, mensustrate, got hit
Your backbone couldn't hold the weight, shit shift
Like a burnt out clutch, position
Twenty-two yard line, you're out of fuckin commission
I'm fuckin up beats like Vodka from Finland
Fatigue shit is green and Leprechauns walking round like they're all ready
My shit is point blank period like a bitch bleeding heavy
Spilling over the same pad, from a month before last

[Verse 7: Drunken Dragon]
This is lyrical insanity and mandatory we bust
All you so-called crazy niggas still get touched
Son I thought you had shit locked down, look around
Manchuz took control of your stereo sound
Plus the crown for the new found kings of this rap thing
Chariots swing like Lo Han's, son no man could take what I start
I keep the best for self, to get the poor part
Plus the boot like Columbus, STD spread like fungus
Touch hundreds, thousands, more than million
I roll with four billions
Our way of light shines through darkness, I spark this track like lye
Pop dukes was a Gemini, what's your sign?