Texty: Soundtrack Artists. East New York Stamp.

[Forest Whitaker reading]

[Jeru]
Samurai linguist, others suck like ?conalingist?
I burn shit up like a poison penis
Make your whole style seem meaningless
Match wits wit this
Call your squad the hole of fortrus
I swoop down like a dirty Brooklyn pigeon
Swing my sword wit precision
Lightning speed blurs your vision
Like a surgeon wit razor sharp incision
Subconcious like hypnotism
Water on the brain, the mental baptism
Put your aura in prison
Block up your chi, and bend your light like a prism

[Afu-Ra]
Yeah, those walkin the dog stand personified
Study lessons and plant seeds to fertilize
Straight up, I slaughter the ? that's got the order
Spit flyin straight at my mouth is holy water
I damage flows, on the mics crushin your matter
And saw you scatter, and couldn't put you back together
Fist of ten rings, I'm scrapin Jews up out the gutter
Hittin ya, splittin ya thoughts like Forest Whitaker
Sick wit the, get wit the thoughts next to ?
Utmost, you want lyrics, here's an overdose

Preverb'll tell you wit styles, you'll be a ghost
I did it a lot, I been in the spot, I rip it alot
And now some motherfuckas wanna try to scheme and plot
And takin chances in life like throwin dice
It's Afu-Ra, I return from death twice
You talkin bout skills? Yeah yeah, I'm twice as nice
Take it to the apex, and push it high-tech
These petty MC's, they picture-paintin hot sex
I melt tracks, I bomb sets wit hot wax
You want some spiritual syllables wit the chemicals
Murdered down eighty-five percent subliminal
Ten percent, fire burn em wit my visual
Five percent, we break bread all in the mental
I keep it comin like rotisserie, and missin me
Straight up and down, I let you know I do it wickedly

[Vocal sample]

[Chorus (Jeru) 3x]
It's the Code of the Samurai, prepare to die
Know you'll die, Brooklyn E-N-Y

It's the Code of the Samurai...