GZA/Genius, GZA, Inspectah Deck, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Masta Killa - Duel Of The Iron Mic

— Ohh, mad one, we see your trap! You can never escape your fate, submit with honor to a duel with my son.
— I agree.

— I see you're using an old style, I wondered where you'd learned it from?
— You know very well, it's yours, too.
— Heh, I had forgotten, will you show me? And what have you come for?
— You come here, since you're so interested – fight me.

[Verse 1: GZA]
Yo, picture bloodbaths and elevator shafts,
Like these murderous rhymes tight from genuine craft.
Check the print, it's where veterans spark the letterings,
Slow moving MC's is waitin' for the editing,
The liquid soluble that made up the chemistry,
A gaseous element, that burned down your ministry;
Herbal vapors and biblical papers,
Smoking Exodus, every square yard is plush.
Fuck the screw-faced photo sessions, facial expression
Leaves impressions, try to keep a shark nigga guessin',
Give crazy shouts, son, here's the outcome,
Cut across the semi-gloss rhymes you floss,
Shit is outdated, just like neckloads of Sterlings,
Suede-fronts, bell-bottoms, and tri-colored shearlings.
I ain't particular, I bang like vehicular homicides
On July 4th in Bed-Stuy,
Where money don't grown on trees and there's thievin' MC's
Who cut-throat to rake leaves;
They can't breathe, blood splash, rushin' fast,
Like running rivers, I be that whiskey in your liver.

[Hook: Ol' Dirty Bastard]
Duel of the Iron Mic!
It's the fifty-two fatal strikes!

[Verse 2: Masta Killa]
This is not a '85 affair, made clear,
When the Gods get on to perform, storms blew up.
Wu's up, causin' the crowd to self-destruct,
Killer Beez are stingin' while I reveal
Science that's heavily guarded by the culprit,
Bombin' your barracks with aerodynamic
Swordplay, poison darts by the doorway,
Minds that's laced with explosive doses,
Damaging lyrical launcher
Lunge at the youthful offender, then injure
Any contender, testin' the murderous Master
Could lead to disaster, dynamite thoughts
Explode through your barrier, rips the retina,
Who can withstand the astonishing punishing
Stings to the sternum, shocked in the hip hop livestock,
Seekin' for a serum to cure ‘em.

[Verse 3: Inspectah Deck]
Adults kill for drugs, plus the young bucks bust,
Duckin' handcuffs, throats get cut when dough rush,
Out of town foes look shook but still pose,
We move like real pros, through the streets we stroll.
Bullet holes lace the windows in one-six-oh,
So control the avenues that's the dream that's sold,
Building lobbies are graveyards for small-timers,
Bitches caught in airports, kis in they vaginas.
No peace, yo, the police mad corrupt,
You get bagged up, depending if you passin' the cut,
Plus shorty's not a shorty no more, he's livin' heartless,
Regardless of the charges, claims to be the hardest.
Individual, critical thoughts, criminal minded
Blinded by illusion, findin' it confusing.

[Hook: Ol' Dirty Bastard]
Duel of the Iron Mic!
It's the fifty-two fatal strikes!
Duel of the Iron Mic!
It's the fifty-two fatal strikes!

[Outro:]
— Huh, Master, he must be dreaming, heh.
— Well, if he is dreaming then he must be asleep. And if he's asleep, then I will wake him up!

At the height of their fame and glory, they turned on one another. Each struggling in vain for ultimate supremacy. In the passion and depth of their struggle the very art that had raised them to such Olympian heights was lost. Their techniques vanished.