Me and Dirty were living together. 1998 in Battery Park, Manhattan, and Dirty—the feds were out to kill him. I had so much love for him and shit that I wanted to help protect him, and I had a feeling overcome me that I was a superhero—somebody to help the world! So I had my brother order a Level 4 fucking vehicle—what the president rides in. You can shoot it with an AK and it keeps moving. After he hit a deer, it didn’t even dent the car! The deer flew way in the air and not even a dent on the paint! It was a Suburban. I still got it. It weighs nine tons. It’s parked at my brother’s house in New Jersey. And the suit I built but one of my employees sold it to a drug dealer. Some drug dealer in Brooklyn got it. That’s funny! A $20,000 suit—Level 4 bulletproof and knife-proof. You couldn’t stab or shoot me. Head to toe. It had a few other toys I don’t like to talk about. I don’t wanna describe it too much—that nigga who got, he got it! I had a briefcase to go with it as well—to block bullets! We were just buggin’ out! We was getting high, too. Don’t get that twisted. We were partying hard. There’s a certain mentality.
[RZA: KUNG FU CURES PERVERSION!]