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| 1. |
| 2:13 | 
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<i>[Intro: sample]</i>
Make marijuana legal, make marijuana legal Make marijuana legal, make marijuana legal (well speak your mind then) Ok, I will, no one has the right to tell me what I can do with my own body What I can eat, drink or smoke, this is a free country And no one can take away my constitutional rights Hey man, can you put me on and I can say anything I want Is that what I need to do? (Yea) Then why isin't alcohol made illegal? Why isin't that While you drinking it, it hang on and disposes your liver Besides that, it's a habitat for alcohol Besides that, cigarettes are much worse than pot No one ever got killed by pot (you tell 'em, you tell 'em) God damn it, man, everything, you can get us anything you want (Anything you want, marijuana legal Make marijuana legal, what's so bad anyway What's so bad about feeling good? There's nothing wrong with blowing crack, yea!) <i>[Method Man]</i> Yo, stop, look & listen, guess who coming up? And y'all was dumb enough to think that Method's number's up Pockets so fat, they need a tummy tuck, you hungry fucks Can sum it up, I give my money up, spit at a honey Then split a honey Dutch, roll it up, can't roll with us If you can't hold your liquor, throw it up, y'all know what up See we them niggaz, ain't no hoe in us, the flow is nuts I'm off the meter, momma wished that I was off the reefer But, for now, I got this game up in the cobra clutch Plus, the silverback gorilla swigger, shot of Tequila to the gut Nigga, trust, I got that Killa up What y'all ain't feelin' us? Ain't feelin' ya When half ya niggaz posing similar, yea Ladies and gents, I think this game need a enema, yea It's "common sense", I Used 2 Love H.E.R., now they pimpin' her, yeah But if you Enter the Wu-Tang, you tripping Like somebody tied together your shoestring, now listen I'm the, real deal, come on, come back to get ya like bad karma Y'all niggaz is throwing rocks with glass armor Fuck the court system, pleading the fifth And if Def Jam is deaf, start reading my lips I'm cocky, possibly I got my reasons and shit They ain't built a man that can stop me from feeding my kids <i>[Chorus: Method Man]</i> And if you don't know where I'm coming from, never know where I be in Most likely, where ya start at'll be the place where you eating And anybody hating on him, hating on them That's right, anybody hating on him, hating on them, motherfuckers <i>[Outro: Method Man]</i> How could you ever say that I'm washed up When I'm the dirtiest thing in sight 4:21... The Day After |
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| 2. |
| 3:44 |
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Uh, yeah, y'all, guess whose back?
Heh, cauli' flavored, momma crack Yeah, yeah, Scott Storch (Return of the great) Mr. M-E-F (aww shit) know what I said Black people don't use the T-H, yo (got it fucked up now) Yo, yo Guess who back though, crack dough, yes, eyes is hat low Stash 'dro, pimp on the side, you know how that go Rap flow, major, taste the flavor, all natural high Y'all gotta love it when the track go (track go) Ask Def Jam what's hot, three letters, M-E-F Man Been stopped, that's off top, young, fresh to death And you're not, no matter what the job, I'm the best man Rap C.E.O. minus the yes-man (yes-man) I know that's right, so act right, Staten on the map Like fuck y'all, get stuck, y'all and have a bad night As I brush off my shoulder, that's right My nigga Scott Storch keep bringing it back like (back like) Oh boy, dig it, I talk about it and I live it Been there, did it, shitted and wiped my ass with it These critics saw the train for brains and must of missed it If they ain't got the shit, they'll never get it (never get it) [Chorus] Is it me, or is it these, niggaz in it for cheese Is it me, all my enemies, hating on Killa Beez Is it me, or is it me, that ain't feeling M.C.'s With the top down, wheeling the v, feeling the breeze Is it me, or is it these, niggaz spitting the same Is it me, all my enemies, throwing shit in the game Is it me, or the industry that really got to change Once again, it's Wu-Tang, in case y'all forgot the name I spit germ, early bird gets worm, now Now that it's his turn, clowns don't get turns, now Fuck with a chick perm, when she get hot, you get burned You see I'm not kidding, knowing these kids learn (kids learn) And and I'm that dude, ahh-choo, and allerging to wake jewels Blast if I have to, and y'all don't give me no hassle Who rep Rotten Apple to death and get natural Make hard beats pound like the track do (track do) If you ask me, this raspy voice nigga is nasty Khaki's hanging off of his ass, eyes is glassy That's fucked, that's us, niggaz know where to catch me At 1-800 GET-AT-ME, (get at me) My, flow's, no holds barred, Holy Jahad It's the head nigga in charge, Meth, back on the job Like back in the days, back when, the game was hard And when they reminiscenced over Wu, my God [Chorus] Until these rap niggaz stepped up, checked up, man this game is messed up Next up, you know what it is, don't get it f'd up Meth, what? F.Y.I., you need a heads up And I don't mean to beat you in the head, but (head, but) When you spit that, forget that, I eat these niggaz food And the shit wrapped, where Cliff at? Tell 'em Mr. Meth got his shit back The gift back, sign, sealed, delivered and gift wrapped And when you hear that click-click (click-click) That's real talk, some niggaz will talk to the cops Get killed off, man how did you get caught with all the rocks And still walk, no matter what you mix with a pig You still pork, and money is still forced (still forced) Yeah, that was right on cue, new and improved All these dudes try'nna walk in my shoes, doing my moves But that's cool, cause I'ma make it do what it do With this W, like I can I get a "suu" motherfuckers? [Chorus] W-T-are-B Wu-Tang Radio, bitch! |
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| 3. |
| 3:30 |
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You don't want no problems, problems
You don't want no problems, problems Yeah, real man, with ya stinkin' ass Come on, that's my nigga right there, let's do it Never count me out, nigga, just count me in, yeah, Look, I ain't came to bone these chicks Not this time, I got a bone to pick, I got a zone to pick Now, who that nigga in the zone and shit Back in the building like he own the bitch, nobody cold as this If I ain't got it, then it don't exist I spit that bird flu, my flows is sick, I'm still as ill as they come Protect Ya Neck, when you dealing with them Now Erick stick a fork in him, he done, hah It boggles the mind, like try'nna 'ketchup' to a bottle of Heinz It's like forensics try'nna follow the crime, they want time And sometime, a nigga had to swallow them dimes While eighty five percent swallowing swine, see Wherever he roam, it's all gravy, man, whatever he hone Long as I got myself a Marilyn loan, phillies are better chrome If there's a problem, nigga, let it be known And while I sleep, my bitch be checkin' my phone, cause I'm a problem, nigga [Chorus] Ease up, or put them g's up Scream at ya frog, nigga leap up (now who got a problem with that?) They need to beast up, nigga, speak up or Forever hold they peace up (if they got a problem with that) Hey you (don't want no problem nigga) Hey you (don't want no problem nigga) Hey you (don't want no problem nigga) Hey you (don't want no problem nigga) Hey you ("Believe, what I say, when I tell ya" - DMX sample) Yeah, you, nigga, you don't want no problem with that Look, my Clan all one in the same Until my name number one in the game, it's not a game, nigga Like Billy Danze, I be running with "Fame" Me and my lynch mob coming to hang, it's Wu-Tang for life Hard body, another day in the life Credit his momma now for raising him right, just want the people to know I'm bout to blow, like I'm shaking the dice Making me mad? Nah, y'all making me right, cause y'all was taking me light So let my pen talk and say what he like And have the court system say and indict, I'm O.J. on the mic Liquid plumber, I be laying the pipe And if it's tight, girl, I'm staying tonight Not only raising on the price, on M.C.'ing, but I'm raising the bar And if you scary, nigga, wait in the car Motherfuckers I'm hard, hard as cooked up in mayonnaise jars Purple haze, Cuban laid cigars, I'm a problem, nigga [Chorus] E, you know I'm just like that Big baller nigga, just like Shaq, so come on, niggaz If they bust, I better bust right back Meth spit it from the gut, like *gunshot* man down I'm that dude, hands down, stare down I'm past due, for Cash Rule, y'all can't clown I'm bank now, your ass lose, nothing but rhyme New York Times, I'm bad news, and I'ma problem, nigga [Chorus:Repeat x2] |
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| 4. |
| 3:18 | 
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| 5. |
| 0:22 |
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| 6. |
| 3:24 |
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This, this is brought to you
By the K-1, Emergency Broadcasting System In the, in the event of an actual emergency You will be told to fall out S.I. rockin' it, N.Y. rockin' it S*** we stay poppin' it, 4-5 rockin' it Game stay on top of it, lame, just the opposite It's no thang, when I "bring the pain" ain't no stopping it Who the f*** is this? About to bring the ruckus This just ya boy, I'm some on other s***, my n****, take a puff of this Piff man, I'm loving this, is Staten Island up in this? B****, like we running it, and somebody wanna public Turn it up a bit, so my thugs can thug a bit If I got my brother get, K, we got another hit L***** please, where y'all puffin' them trees? I'm damaging M.C.'s, oxygen, you can't breathe, fall Fall out, yeah, I'm going all out Hold on, man, what's really going on And when I'm coming, a hundred miles and running Keep back, y'all ain't got it like that Fall out, yeah, I'm going all out Hold on, man, what's really going on And when I'm coming, a hundred miles and running Keep back, y'all ain't got it like that Here we go again, h***-smoke, blowing in the wind Cops chasing, wanna throw him in the pen And the day he leave the game, yo, he going in the Benz On them 24's looking like he rolling on the rims All daying, know what I'm sayin', I'm staying up to par, parleyin' While y'all hating, I'm splitting this cigar Man, it's nathan, all y'all do is aim and start spraying 'Cause tonight's the night, and me and my n****z ain't playing y'all done did it now, another critic kicked Tical Alotta n****z mad 'cause I ain't fold like they figure now Let me put my fitted down, spit around Listen when this hit the ground, y'all gon' hear the difference now Here I got that miracle, sickest individual Flow that's so original, see this is what they meant to do It's not an act, it's all actual fact The kid is back, making tracks, catch panic attacks, and fall Fall out, yeah, I'm going all out Hold on, man, what's really going on And when I'm coming, a hundred miles and running Keep back, y'all ain't got it like that Fall out, yeah, I'm going all out Hold on, man, what's really going on And when I'm coming, a hundred miles and running Keep back, y'all ain't got it like that Aww s***, ain't this about a b**** Give a f*** about a b****, I'm more about a grip And I'm all that a n**** got, the more he gotta get Feeling like a million dollars, buyin' million dollar s*** What y'all dealing with, one shot killing it? Stop changing my style, when y'all stop stealing it Meth is chillin' like milk top killing If it ain't got no real in it, I'm probably not feeling it I'm deadin' ya kids and burn another blizz What it is, what it is, Wu-Tang is for the kids? So n****z please, why y'all puffin' them trees I'm damaging M.C.'s, oxygen, they can't breathe, fall Fall out, yeah, I'm going all out Hold on, man, what's really going on And when I'm coming, a hundred miles and running Keep back, y'all ain't got it like that Fall out, yeah, I'm going all out Hold on, man, what's really going on And when I'm coming, a hundred miles and running Keep back, y'all ain't got it like that Rest in peace Ol' Dirty B****** a.k.a Dirt McGirt |
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| 7. |
| 2:59 |
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<i>[Intro: Method Man (Ol' Dirty Bastard)]</i>
Expect the unexpected, motherfucker, let's go, come on Yeah, M-E-F, hahahaha, special guest (Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck) Hahahaha.. yeah.. <i>[Ol' Dirty Bastard]</i> Yo, you don't wanna ride with Dirt, you still stuck in coach You don't wanna fly in first, yo, I can spit One verse, and leave in a new Benz-er Take a trip down south and put some hoes to work, you hear me Dirt McGirt, you niggas gonna respect it I'm drunk and crunk so don't come in my direction I'm ready to thump, and get the whole crew arrested Bail 'em out, and laugh about it in Texas, yo And get with Rome, down in Caki-Lac And hit the spot, in the hood where the happenings at Where the shootin' and the fightings and the stabbings at Where the Lincolns and the Chevys and the Cadi's at, shit Them down south niggas been loved Dirt Take a shot to the head, if you been through the worse Show respect to your niggas, who been doin' it first And be comin' with that shit, I'm just doin' the worse <i>[Chorus 2X: Ol' Dirty Bastard (Method Man)]</i> Yo, you don't wanna ride with Dirt, you still stuck in coach You don't wanna fly in first, yo, I can spit (Yo, you don't wanna ride with Meth, you still sniffing coke Even if you tried your best, yo, I can spit) <i>[Method Man]</i> Yeah, damn, I'm just like Dirt in the booth I'm the truth, I don't need to go to church in a suit Each verse is the proof, I drink a 100 Proof Cop searching the coup, I got some herb in my boot When Wu is coming through, the outcome: critical Fucking with this style, the outcome: get physical Meth get lyrical, and y'all can get my genitals Don't forget them aid essentials, vitamins & minerals Heh, ya'meen, I'm taking one for the team Like Martin Luther King, taking one for a dream I'm dope, to many fiends, live by many means If you don't stand for nothing, you'll fall for anything That's real shit, let's get this money real quick Dirt Dog, I'm feeling this, but I'd rather feel rich I mean filthy rich, I'm corporate now Big Meth, the label's Def, that's why I talk so loud, nigga <i>[Chorus 2X]</i> <i>[Hook 2X: Ol' Dirty Bastard]</i> Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck... |
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| 8. |
| 4:34 |
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(feat. Carlton Fisk, RZA, Streetlife)
[Intro: RZA (Method Man)] Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (roll it up niggaz) Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (4:20, y'all, it's time, it's time) Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (it's been a long time for this man Niggaz been sleeping on the kid, man, everybody got some sideway shit to say) Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (Carlo! Know what I'm saying, man? Yeah) [Method Man] Fast or slow mo, oh no, Meth done made a killing Call the po-po, oh niggaz is squealing, oh, y'all ain't feeling Niggaz no more, the bigger they are, harder they go though Good pussy put a hump in my back like Quasimoto Hah, my sex ain't homo, season vet, hold the adobo Got rappers on that low carb diet, y'all can't get no dough I keep a low pro, file, excuse me as I get smoked out Put hands on these niggaz, then put the roach out Go head, I'm wishing you would, ask if it's good Man, this Tarzan shit in the woods, my shit is hood, bitch That means I'm hood rich, telling you lies Straight out the pull-pit, it's like Merrill Lynch I'm on that bullshit Real spit, money come first, and even worse You need all your toes & fingers to count up what I'm worth, trick So when I blow a smoke cloud in your face, just take a hint Dick, you crowding my space, it's Mr. Meth, pa [Chorus: Carlton Fisk] It's 4:20, roll up, nigga getting smo-ked out No seeds, California weed have you choked out No doubt, roll up, which rims spoked out 4:20 mean you either roll up or roll out [RZA] Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it [Method Man] So on and so on, I flow on Power to our people, get your smoke on And I'm so gone, off, that sour diesel Hard to hold on, but hold on, it's like I'm Pretty Toney With that robe, got terrorist shook, because I'm so bomb The hood, put, me in position, I'm in the kitchen With that cook book, the service I'm giving, birds they vision Not a good look, told ya my nigga, Tical deliver Hook or crook, lots of asses to kick, wish I had a bigger foot Yeah, taking it there, hating who care Y'all stay out my mental, I got killas waiting in here To get you, as I sharpen my pencils, tear apart instrumentals Fuck it, y'all niggaz is pussy, so is the dick that sent you RZA, we done it again, Co-D occassion Here's to short skirts and Ol' Dirt McGirt, okay, then Let's get it popping, like it ain't nothing to get it popping The big and rotten's the city, too good to be forgotten [Chorus 2X] [Streetlife] The rap game won't like me You can tell that a nigga is shiesty If I die, my second born'll be like me Slide dick to your wifey Never know your baby boy just might be Quick to rob a jack, he's so icey, stay dressed to kill From the Hill, never ran, never will Attitude, like, fuck you still, I see you missing the point This is not a rap song, you get clapped on Bullets break the bone, like the joint, call you out your name Disrespect ya moms, spit on your dame Go public, then, shit on your fame, you overlooking the fact Where you from, is where we at And y'all don't want no, parts, in that that Caught your verse for sale, but real niggaz don't shoot & tell We'd rather do the time and rot in the cell [Carlton Fisk] The inner outer state, bi-coastal smoker Inhale, Cali piff with a swift of glaucoma Black jeans, black Timbs, black Benz roaster Smoke rise, out the sun roof when I roll up Verrazano, with no relation to Gravano Carlo, shots are hollow, still cop a bottle And pour some out, moment of silence, then I swallow I'm still alive, and still the sun'll come out tomorrow Shine shine shine, and grind, cuz it's money on my mind And I'm moving like my life is on the line For the bullshit, I really got no time, a full clip Really gon' let ya niggaz know what's on my mind When ya getting out of line, have them choppers lit up You won't need a camera phone to get the picture Chalk down, tape around, body bag zipped up Carlo Verrazano, you can call me mister [Chorus] |
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| 9. |
| 3:10 |
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Oohh, uh-oh, it's time, Meth Man, G-Wine, aiy-aiy-aiy-aiy
Aiyo, Meth this shit sick boy, haha, (it's beautiful) yeah What's up (aww man, it's getting scary for y'all niggaz now) what's good There go the apple of my eye, my black butterfly Don't try to pass me by, like you do them other guys You do with brother's lies, about they baby mothers & they wives And how you need they ass to survive I ain't a bit surprised, and I ain't try'nna give you bad vibes You probably had a bumpy last ride witch ex Was he stalking, calling making threats where you rest Until you got that order of protect Girl, I'm far from a threat, boo, now hold for a sec. Relax with the Meth, take a load off your breast If you had a choice, baby, who would you choose Them dudes who look like they got sugar in they shoes Girl, that's how you lose Before you play the game, know the rules Cause still ain't nothing changed but the jewels You still paying dues, when we should be laying on the cruise Some ice cubes, playing with ya boobs, knawmean [Chorus] Let's ride, we get it everyday, it's doesn't fail And I always wanna know how you feel Cause you're everything, I'm always there for you Yes, I'll be there, so let's ride Let's ride, don't trip, got your back, I'm your man I keep it G, like they do it in the hood, and You give me everything, and always be right there And if you real, then let's ride Hey, pretty ma, you look sweat, I mean You the type of treat, I've been dying to eat I see them other dudes try'nna speak, flossin' them jeeps They wanna whistle and beep when you crossin' the street Have mercy, to these big hands and big feet Use me once and use me again like fish grease Body perfect, primadonna, oh my god, mommy, work it Make a nigga wanna get a job I love chicks to hate staring, hate man sharing Hate it when a bum bitch is wearing what she wearing Huge attitude like the size of her badunk Double XL, she the "Eye Candy of the Month" Johnny, but ladies call me Big John Studd Is it my big club or my big long hugs Go figure, if you got an itch, I'm ya nigga To scratch it, and bring the hook back while I'm at it, now pass it [Chorus] Let's ride, I start up on your right Peace and then we'll fight I'm starting to fall for love Yes, I will, yes, I will Let's ride, don't need to think twice I, want you at your time Let's ride, let's roll, all night, oh lord Full night, oooh tell me something [Chorus] Yeah, this is Ginuwine, uh Method Man, yeah, I like that |
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| 10. |
| 3:05 |
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<i>[Intro: Raekwon]</i>
Wu-Tang... yeah (what up son) you know It's back to that good ol' thing again, you know? (Pass that, pass that, man) Word up, we do this tremendously (It's on, Rae) word up from staircase to stage Yeah... (yo who that?) You know what it is (Oh shit... that's the Wu niggaz man) aiyo <i>[Raekwon]</i> From out the air space, I'm rockin' leather pants in the tenth grade My pen blaze, now we in the wind gate, killin' haze Put this shit back in order, do it like the crack days Stack up, you little niggaz back up, your raps suck I demolish a maggot, faggot lines, nigga, you'se a savage But don't never compare me to your wack times I'll smash your hood up, yeah, anybody you call I straight mash out, for cash nigga, put up The Embassy's calling, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang Enemies is falling, y'all niggaz ain't good enough Now acknowledge the strength, we stand like buildings In the city, raise that rent up, y'all niggaz gonna give me, baby Yeah, what, fucker, we stomp niggaz out like XUV's Then fuck ya girl in the but-ut Nine rap playboys, see me in the Playboy Mansion With the playboys on, I play rid up <i>[Chorus: La the Darkman]</i> Nigga, we glide when we ride, don't choke when we smoke Disrespect fam, yo ass gon' get smoked We got real money, seven figure deal money I'm in the Samuel Jackson, Time to Kill money <i>[U-God]</i> Yeah, we got them anthems, we handsome and raw All day, cops harass, but we laugh at the law And a fiend got my stash, I blast through your door I caught her with the four, his dame was frozen She loves sniffing coke til her veins is bulging You punk motherfucker, your ribs is frail I've been eating calamari, getting big in jail <i>[La the Darkman]</i> Nigga, we glide when we ride, don't choke when we smoke <i>[Method Man]</i> I got that sidedish super today, eye candy With the sweetest love, one bite, your tooth'll decay I'm moving units like I'm moving the yae, and like they say In this business, you either in it, bitch, or you in the way Sky's the limit, I ain't come here to play, or come to shit where I lay Who in that six blunt, clipping his tray Sippin' some Ice Water, dipping with Rae Tipping these tricks, dripping for pay And knowing half them bitches is gay T.M.I. blowing tree in sky, we on the job So be abvised, that wack niggaz, needing apply S.I., represent til we die, this track is pitching to fry Enter the Dragon, I be spitting that fire Keep ya balls off, so calling you dogs off Cuz word to these jeans, hanging off of my ass, I never fall off The sensei, with this pen I slay Pick up a queen in Miami, then get M.I.A., John Blaze, bitch <i>[Chorus 2X]</i> |
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| 11. |
| 0:47 |
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| 12. |
| 4:14 |
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Sing it bitch, oh boy
Niggaz, ha-ha, ladies, yeah Oh boy, come on, yeah This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") yeah I got to have that new shit, new whip, blue six, now who this? Windows half down, bumping Wu shit, the truth is This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") hell yeah I got to have them big props, big rocks, listening to wrist watch Tick-tock, and make a pit stop, the copper's zip-locked This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") fuck yeah I got to have that seat next to Oprah, Bentley with the chauffeur Rum and cola spilling on a million dollar sofa This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") hell yeah I got to have my next pair of fresh Air's, dress me in the best wears Meth, yeah, want respect, then he want his set cleared This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") fuck yeah [Chorus] Now if it's something I, want, no need for me to front Why stunt? Better notify them niggaz from the dump Oh, yeah, I got to have it (have it) And, oh, yo, I got to have it (have it) If it's something I, need, don't have to beg or plead My weed, got 'em high, just look at they eyes bleed Oh, yeah, I got to have it (have it) And, oh, yo, I got to have it (have it) Yeah, I got to have that mansion and the yacht The room to park the phantom on the yacht E, watch me leave them haters on the dock, yeah This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") damn right I got to have them pop bottles, shots hollow, plus the next top model Staring down they nostrils in them Ferragamo goggles This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") fuckin' a' I got to have a new spot to live, a few props to give One for each verse I did, with 2Pac and B.I.G., y'all This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") damn right I got have V.S. cuts, a jet plus, a marijuana dealer with the best stuff You know that Meth puff, y'all, and guess what? This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") fuckin' a [Chorus] I got to have the fast car, the crash bar, place to stash the heaters In the dash bar, and then I need no limits on that black car This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") hell yea I got to have them verses and them hooks, plus a little paper off the books And a Playboy bunny that can cook, nigga This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") fuck yea I got to have the first glass in first class, button up Cabani On the shirt tag, and honey with that Louis on the purse bag This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") hell yea I got to have them hardcore beats, and Loose Linx that all play for keeps When we mobbing on these New York streets, nigga This is just a few of them things that I ("got to have") fuck yea [Chorus:Repeat x2] |
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| 13. |
| 3:50 |
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[Lauryn][Method Man]
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah Yeah (Yeah) Yeah yeah (Yo) [Method Man] Damn, I hate it when it rain Ever since I came in the game Some hated on the fame A lot of niggas done changed And started actin` strange Even labels turning they backs And started backing lames Radio is the same, whole lotta speculatin` These mutherfuckas defacatin` on the name Wu-Tang, if this is where the hip-hop is Radio lyin` then, that ain`t where hip-hop live It lives in the streets, we eat to live they livin` to eat I`m fed up, that nigga rides in `em, givin `em sleep R.I.P., make me the king of all I see And when death call I`m good I got call ID See it was planned in the front, now they just gon` front Like my joints is on proactive, and they just don`t bump Then niggas gon` say I lost my skill when in fact they all been programmed And lost they feel, fo` real Chorus: [Lauryn](Method Man] They`ve got so much things to say right now They`ve got so much things to say They`ve got so much things to say right now (Yeah) They got so much things to say (Yo) [Method Man] Damn, another artist chokes again They ain`t cut as close as him or even broke the skin See how niggas ain`t yo friends, when there ain`t no ends Don`t care who the case offend, don`t underrate my pen I got what it takes to win, while ya`ll are thinking I`m trash Loving the taste of success and this drink in my glass Watch `em cosign that whack shit, give it a pass till it`s gone Quicker than Red, can`t get rid of them clubs When they`re wrong, call the cops, they credibility`s shot It`s time to learn, what hot really is and really is not Off brain niggas, Meth gonna let `em know off top Don`t get smacked on dvds, trying to show off blocks I can`t stop cause my enemies plot, or cause the cops want me Shackled and locked inside the penalty box And while they waitin` for my shit to flop They gettin` pimped like hoes Sellin` they ass just to get my spot, come on man Repeat Chorus [Method Man] Ask Miss Hill, half these critics ain`t got half this skill Often so hungry that they have to steal If I didn`t have my deal, and didn`t have this mass appeal Then I`m back up in that trap, swingin` crack it`s real And that ain`t worth the time, so search and find a new nerve And here`s three words: stop working mine It take a lot more to hurt my pride Jerk my vibe more than media lies, cry when dirt dog die nigga The last album wasn`t feeling my style This time my foot up in they ass but they feelin` me now Cause Tical, he put his heart in every track he do But somehow yall find someway to give a whack review It ain`t all good, they writin` that I`m Hollywood Tryin` to tell you my shit ain`t ghetto and they hardly hood Come on man, until you dudes can write some rhymes Keep that in mind when you find yourself reciting mines Repeat Chorus |
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| 14. |
| 4:22 |
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Yo, I'm 'bout to hit you with this ya'meen
On top of the ya'meen, with a lil' bit of ya'meen mixed in Ya'meen? Yeah, yeah, yo How should I get it started, f*** it, just get it started? These trash talking artists is nothing, n****z is garbage When Meth strike his target, leave it dearly departed His flow is clearly the hardest, y'all gon' feel me regardless Might break a promise but never breaking the code Some get popped and call for they mamma, when the drama unfolds My block, hot as a sauna, n**** w*** u* a** j*** C**** deals on every corner, fiends wanna foam you with soap And, if life's a b****, then I bet she bitter and cold Every time she thinking I fold, seven figures get sold Meth, all in your chest or inhale it all in your nose Cops don't know about this Method but smell it all in his clothes Yup, I'm still intact, how real is that, I'm back With enough, fits a million, to figure vanilla wraps up New York, New York, Rock Tube socks and Timberlands 'Cause hip hop ain't feeling them flip-flops, they feminine I'm the one shot dealing, one shot killing it (Ya'meen) Yeah, it's the top billing, the block feeling like (Ya'meen) Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me (Ya'meen, ya'meen) Yeah, if you not for squealing and for spilling the (Ya'meen) The streets is watching the apple rotten like (Ya'meen) Yeah, plus the B.B. hot and the towers dropping like (Ya'meen) Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me (Ya'meen, ya'meen) Yeah, if you get it popping or get to popping 'em (Ya'meen) You know the haters diss you, let's deal with bigger issues You know New York is dying after all the shit we been through And we done lost B.I.G., we done lost Pun Homey, you can't live, gotta go and get them g*** You know the hammers'll lose your cabbage, them dudes do damage Send Zulu Nation through Reaganomics, we move them package We pushing rain pain, gotta go and get that money Y'all going, "Hey, hey", but don't that pen look lovely You must not know who y'all n****z is f***ing with I can take life n** just for the f*** of it Crack's crazy, that n****'ll smack babies Clap ladies for yackin' you gon' catch shady Call it a mass shower, the way them hollow's drizzle Mr. Potato Head, you know them things can't miss you The Average Joe, with an average flow Me and Meth bringing back New York, n**** I'm the one shot dealing, one shot killing it (Ya'meen) Yeah, it's the top billing, the block feeling like (Ya'meen) Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me (Ya'meen, ya'meen) Yeah, if you not for squealing and for spilling the (Ya'meen) The streets is watching the apple rotten like (Ya'meen) Yeah, plus the B.B. hot and the towers dropping like (Ya'meen) Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me (Ya'meen, ya'meen) Yeah, if you get it popping or get to popping 'em (Ya'meen) You don't like me, you can get what's right above the testicles S.P., turn your top five into vegetables You don't believe me, get 'em all in a room And the next five, I plan to getting all of them soon y'all can meet me at the table that's round or get ya place in the ground That's what you get when you facing me, clown Who got the crown, I'm piss on it now while you wearing it Nobody nicer than Ghost, I ain't hearing it Been Nike Airing it, white tee out Stick-up kid season when the dice be out I'm a thug or star investing in living, n****z sippin' soup Ghost rapper, knocking out your icey mouth N****z in the East wanna unite, not me If you ain't sayin' I'm the best, you ain't come to be right Know what I mean? If you don't, then you not of being Your four-four, knock little pieces off of your spleen, n**** I'm the one shot dealing, one shot killing it (Ya'meen) Yeah, it's the top billing, the block feeling like (Ya'meen) Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me (Ya'meen, ya'meen) Yeah, if you not for squealing and for spilling the (Ya'meen) The streets is watching the apple rotten like (Ya'meen) Yeah, plus the B.B. hot and the towers dropping like (Ya'meen) Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me (Ya'meen, ya'meen) Yeah, if you get it popping or get to popping 'em (Ya'meen) |
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| 15. |
| 3:00 |
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| 16. |
| 3:34 |
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<i>[Intro: Method Man]</i>
Yeah... yeah... Allah Math... Yeah... yo... yo... <i>[Method Man]</i> Y'all ain't never stopping the kid, why y'all knocking the king? Would ya like a shot of liquor or like a shot to the rib? Plus you stay on top of they grills, stay on top of they biz Thinking niggaz plotting on hairs, think they not when they is This is Staten Island gully, you dig? It's getting ugly And I ain't found a court that can judge me, the block love me Like nines to the side of the skully, popping they top I'd rather pop bubbly, one for B.I.G. and one for Pac Nigga, trust me, I'm hot as they get, like Al Green Getting hit by a pot of them grits, yo, nahmeen? Y'all don't really want no parts of this, soon as a nigga Start shining, niggaz start some shit, my guard lit Like a boss, head nigga in charge, get in these drawers Fitted, nine inches bigger than yours This Meth dude got that food, and he serving it raw Told you before, I bring the pain, and now I'm hurting them, pa Hurting them, pa... <i>[Chorus 2X: Streetlife]</i> Up from the 36, back on that bullshit Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip Staten Island's the borough, Park Hill, we still click Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run shit <i>[Inspectah Deck]</i> Aiyo, you fucking with some capital G's, Allah Math Streetlife, Meth Man, plus the Masta and me Soldier I, make it happen, indeed, my sick gift Had the highest paid hoe, get it cracking for free Worldwide, still trapped in the P's, Pioneers Like the twenty inch woofers, that's in back of the V Leave ya brain, like you spazzing on E. It don't matter who you happen to be, nothing swagger like he Keep a dirty cop close, never talk with no feds Tear the roof off the mother, right along with ya head And I ain't talk unless she talking bout bread You would swear that I'm rocking New Balance, how I'm walking the ledge Son, I'm just a little off of the edge, as I stalk The mean streets, for paused types, callers are read Killa Hill where the warriors bred, I'm a Resident Patient, it's gonna take more than the meds <i>[Chorus 2X]</i> <i>[Streetlife]</i> Special invited guest, I came to put the rumors to rest Rip the rest of the slugs through your chest Put the chest to the back of your vest Trap your packet, take the money and jet Niggaz posted, but you posing no threat Punk, you pussy like the opposite sex Front, see how many shots you will get I'm not asking, I'm demanding respect I'm just a man to respect Watch your step, son, your funeral's next Streetlife is the man in the flesh, I got one hand on your neck The other hand is attached to the tech Your next move could mean life or death Make move, take baby steps Hold that thought, nigga, save your breath We hold courts, in the streets, we rep For Cash Rule, and we came to collect, cock sucker <i>[Chorus]</i> |
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| 17. |
| 2:47 |
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<i>[Intro: sample (Method Man)]</i>
"Walk on" (yeah, yeah, yeah) <i>[Method Man]</i> It's Meth, back on that old shit Pick my ho's with the same finger I pick my nose with These flows get, hotter than most chicks, get the picture I'm focused, got nothing but cock for cock-roaches, bitch, I'm gone before you noticed Ducking these coppers, try'nna make the coldest Spot you with the bricks and the baking sodas Me and my soldier, we taking over, taking payola From all these stations and record labels, they killing culture, tell 'em niggaz "Walk on" <i>[Redman]</i> Yo, I blow ya minds, like Kurt Cobain My block is hot like Lil' Wayne, I'll pop ya little chain I'm ready, hip hop is not gon' be the same Like the Roc and Dame, I'll dot the little change Nigga, I ain't scared, boy, yes sir If I wasn't a beast, you niggaz wouldn't whisper I'm like, y'all can fuck y'all self, I'm getting paid daily Plus keepin' it real, keep you broke, can't tell me, nigga "Walk on" <i>[Method Man]</i> Huh, now go say that I don't quiver, and any chick Caught with dirt under her nail's a gold digger Yeah, I tell the people, like I told RZA Man, I got Meth and on the day that I don't, I'll let you know, nigga Nah, no carbon copies, they ain't got me, but they can watch me Jewels jingling, middle finger at paparazzi Not too cocky, but still, ain't too many niggaz can top me So bounce you foes and pull ya shoes up, nigga "Walk on" <i>[Redman]</i> Don't even blink, think fast, make the right move Got a gun on ya, like Pinky had on Ice Cube I don't play, homey, I got my stripes, too I'mma sky high-a-trist, I smoke in a flight suit, nigga Recognize, like Sam Sneed'll "back down" You sick and tired of wack niggaz, then act now I show you how it's done, nigga, Gilla House Give you a whole clip, turn your ruby glitter out, nigga "Walk on" <i>[Method Man]</i> And beat ya feet up, I'm sick with these dice, so put ya g's up Then back a lighter tree, about to get the energy up I milk like double D cup, plus, I air it out just like a sneaker Will win, and then "key" your car like Alicia Yup, my Meth is off the meter, more Yankee caps than Derek Jeter Try'nna catch me a diva, then I'mma catch and meet ya Might spill a thong, but still a don, still got Love, for my baby moms, we just don't get along, hold the fuck on "Walk on" <i>[Redman]</i> Allow me to reintroduce -- nah, I don't need it If you ain't got it since '92, nigga, beat it Hop in the 4 of ya 7, black two-seater Pull out a hammer, big as a vacuum cleaner Nigga, I roll heavy, bitch, I roll steady Get that dough Reggie, me fall off, really? You better ask who the best rapper in ya hood And when you mimick me, muthafucka, do it good, nigga "Walk on" |
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| 18. |
| 0:32 |
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| 19. |
| 4:31 |
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[Intro: (kung fu sample) Method Man]
*kung fu fighting* Yeah, uh, heheheh (That's Shadowboxing!) Yo... [Method Man] It's that Blackout, spazzed out, G-String divas Leave you assed out, passed out, it's cold Pack your heat up, blow your back out You bad mouth, make 'em all believers Throwing rocks from a glass house, y'all ain't perfect either See that cheeba and that hash out (garbage day tomorrow) And I have yet to take that trash out, or emptied this cigar RZA, Rah, we amped, eh, Meth is on his job It ain't nothing, like the French say; "che sera sera" So let's move on, until the day we laying in the casket With them suits on, and I'm so cool that hell is only luke warm Been too strong, for too, long, I'll probably die With my boots on, and on my way to cash a coochie coupon You know I'm, proper, don't let them boys confuse you The fact is Meth, I'm harder than bottles made by Yoo-Hoo Wu-Tang, welcome to the House of Flying Daggers Where the truth aim, flying out the mouth of flying rappers There it is... [Chorus: Method Man] Now, ask yourself, is this for real, it can't be My, nigga, if it ain't for real, it ain't me I, elect myself as presidential M.C. I, elect myself as presidential M.C. Now, ask yourself, why is he so low key Why, is niggaz pimpin' when the game chose me I, elect myself as presidential M.C. I, elect myself as presidential M.C. [Raekwon] Yo, blew 'em and hit 'em, and he went into a spin cycle Outblew his liver, a river flooded, what's happening It's drugs we wanted, gloves buttered, thug coverage This is Fila, white sneaker, Louis Vitton luggage I came, representative huddle, they all love you That W, the legacy of little niggaz muggin' you The fuck, what's up with you, yo, you suck, nigga Benches used to pluck niggaz, we be on the roof, like "fuck you" Them red beams is coming, losers, got to walk the plank Users, with uzi's on 'em, you move, you getting spanked Shank broilers banked, alcoholics ranked ballers They should call us, I rock mad ice like a walrus The lamesters decided to lure us, we was up in Freedomtown Getting weeded, one Bentley tour bus, you might like the mack and explore dust You can't fuck with all of us, one of us dropped, there's twenty more of us [Chorus] [RZA] Peel caps like tangerines, you shook/shake like tamberines Then, jet from the set, in the all black Lamborghin' Nobody seen me, bitch in a tini red bikini Niggaz saw her, because they thought they saw a genie Heidi Klum, pussy juicy, fat as a plum Picture on the wall in jail, niggaz jerk til they come God gargantuan, large, colossus, bombardment of darts Make your squad, throw tantrums Practice karma sutra on broads, pop bra's Leave birds with permanent scars, and shit like birthmarks Digi bark back at dogs, snatch flies from frogs Blow California chronic to despise the smog This shit I been with biz in the clearing, pigs sharing Got fresh, Wu-Wearing, motherfuckers not caring Then move through your community, with diplomat immunity Move to rep a two or G., shine like fine jewelry [Chorus] [Outro: kung fu sample] The Shadow Sword... Shadow Sword... |
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| 20. |
| 4:04 |
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<i>[Chorus: Megan Rochell]</i>
We both know, that our love will grow And forever, will be you and me... <i>[Method Man]</i> Give me a woman that get down for me, my one and only That don't fuss or fuck around on me, or leave me lonely Not just a honey, but a homey, just wanna hold me Cuz she got alotta love for me, and put it on me If I need that, plus she understand me when I beat that It's sweet like candy, this time, I might just eat that You steal my heart, sweetheart, then you can keep that Let's bar hop and find us a spot where we can chief at Push the seats back, you got the kinda body niggaz beep at Try to speak at, but get no feedback Sophisticated, Miss Highly Edumicated Living well, lady that made it, type of woman you stay with <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Method Man]</i> Give me a queen that respects a "king", just like Coretta Get everything except the ring, for worse or better Even through the stormy weather, rain, sleet, snow Whatever, see if it go down, we go together Like Twix bars, ain't no problem that we can't fix, ma You ain't gotta sugar my tank, or key the kid car Cuz broken hearts leave big scars, when emotions get hit hard Niggaz get drunk and hit the strip bar But that ain't even ya man's style, even back as a manchild That's where I stood, and where I stand now I'm throwing rocks at your window pane Trying to bang, girl, like injure pain, you know the game <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Megan Rochell]</i> No matter what we go through (what we go through) I'll be there for you (there for you) I'll never let you down, I'll just hold you down, oh-oooh No matter where we be (where we be) I'll do it all again (all again) The ups and down, I'll hold you down, oh-oooh <i>[Method Man]</i> Give me a woman that get down for me, my one and only She don't fuss or fuck around on me, or leave me lonely Not just a honey, but a homey, just wanna hold me Cuz she got alotta love for me, and now I gotta Lotta love for her, might even take a slug for her And everywhere we go, pull out that red rug for her Yeah, them back rubs in the bathtub, got me cleaning my act up I'm ready to shack up, now that's love <i>[Megan Rochell]</i> Nobody can love you like me boy I'll promise to be your only girl Don't ever leave, just stay You will be down for me, anyway Ahhhhhhhhhh, you and me together, baby <i>[Chorus]</i> |
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