Intro:



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 using an old style, I wondered where you had learned it from

You know very well, it's yours too

[Yo God, it's a duel, it's a duel] Heh, by the Gods, will you show me?

[buck buck buck buck buck buck ] And where do you come for?

[Duel of the Iron Mic ] You come here, since you're so interested

[Duel of the Iron Mic ] Fight me

[In the moonlight niggaz I will strike]

[What, what? Bring it!]



Verse One: The Genius



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 editin

The liquid soluble that made up the chemistry

A gaseous element, that burned down your ministry

Herbal vapors, and biblical papers

Smokin 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Shit is outdated, just like neckloads of Sterlings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 runnin rivers, I be that whiskey in your liver



Chorus: Ol Dirty Bastard



Duel of the Iron Mic!

It's the fifty-two fatal strikes!



Verse Two: Master Killer



This is not a eighty-five affair, made clear

when the Gods get on to perform storms blew up

Wu's up, causin the crowd to self-destruct

Killer bees are stingin somethin 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

Damagin 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 Three: Inspector 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 lioke 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

Bulding lobbies are graveyards for small-timers

Bitches caught in airports, keys in they vaginas

No peace, yo the police mad corrupt

You get bagged up, dependin if you're 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 confusin



Outro: Ol Dirty Bastard



Duel of the iron mics [The master, he must be dreaming, heh]

It's that fifty-two fatal strikes [Well, if he is dreaming...]

Duel of the iron mics [...then he must be asleep]

It's that fifty-two fatal strikes, NUH [And if he is asleep]

[then I will wake him up!]

[WeahhhHAAH-HAH-HAH!]



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

They very art, that had raised them through such rapiant heights was lost

Their techniques, vanished