Lyrics:

[Intro: RZA]
Yeah, yo, Zig-Zag-Zig-Zig, uh, Zig-Zag-Zig, yeah, uh
Oh man, this is very scary, Bza-Bza-Bza-Bobby not the ordinary
Hehehehe, you won't hear that old shit
Yo, turn the beat up a little bit just so I can tell 'em what I've been
Trynna tell 'em
You got, oh, man, Joe

[RZA]
Like Toney Starks said, we throw yo ass in the Cobra Clutch
Your man watch as your whole leg open up
Sober up, baby, it's the Bob Digi
We throw darts in the air that flow like a frisbee
My niggas frostbitten, glass staying crispy
Love my wiz, but ya dud nigga miss me
I'm bionic, my chronic drowned in Digi juice
My fist fast as Bruce, you better call a truce
No excuse, the black man must stand up
Time to make the Wu sign, throw both of your hands up
You see me in a Maserati, Gran Turismo
Up in the club, my beat got my sub than Quizno
Mama, just the business, I'mma get this
Keep the ten digits, fuck that, before I quit this
Walk in the prints of a Prince, if it don't make dollars, nigga, then it
Don't make sense
[Hook: The Black Keys]
If it don't make dollar, then it don't make sense
If it don't make dollar, then it don't make sense
No, no, yeah, it don't make sense

[Pharoahe Monch]
I see dead people when I spit with my sixth sense
My sixteen with six sentences that make sense
Which means I inflict pain that's intense
I got brains backstage, I've been rhyming sick since
Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rocks
And rolls, found your roads, til I die
Toss French Francs, Dutch mark to the sky
Machines is black, my voice is fried
Rock and roll I lose control
Fuck the white ones, The Black Keys got so much soul
While you come off of the bench
If it don't make dollars, then it don't make sense
If it don't make dollars, then it don't make sense
Don't make dollars, then it don't make sense
Dog, it needs to make sense
If it don't make dollars, then it don't make sense

[Hook]