| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| 3:59 | 
|
|||
|
*sounds of fighting*
"You've been lucky... I wish I got you last time. En garde, I'll let you try my Wu-Tang style." "I'd like to try your Wu-Tang style, let's begin then!" Intro: Method (and others) From the tip top? (Aiyyo aiyyo, what the fuck's up with light dude?) Yup One two (no doubt, no doubt) One two one two Yo one two, uh, one two one two (yeahh, we gon' be up in that) Ah one two, uh, one two one two (yeah light that shit up) Ah one two yo, check me out Chorus: What's that shit that they be smokin? Tical... tical, tical Pass it over here... tical... tical, tical What's that shit the niggaz smokin? Tical... tical, tical Pass it over here... tical... tical, tical Verse One: Check it, I got styles, all of em sick Niggaz ain't fit to walk a mile in the dead man's kicks I make em shit about a pile, of bricks to show He ain't nuttin but another, a lone John Doe That want to flow, here it is, comin up shit's creek I come to throw monkey wrenches in your program, sleep and I'ma grow, like a rash on ya nasty ass In a whip, with no breaks and I'm hittin the gas It's a bird, it's a plane, take a look in the sky Method Man on some shit, niggaz call me The Fly Cause my style, dates back to hoppin turnstyles Make ya fear, if ya cutie in the chair, you can bet I'll get severe on the double I harass it I don't look for trouble, I'm already trouble Ya bastard, check the wicked flows that I crafted Open up a deadly venom style to be mastered By a psychopathic, way beyond an average Joe, with a hellafied flow, there ya have it Chorus One two, uh, one two one two One two, uh, one two one two One two, uh, one two one two Check it out Verse Two: What goes off? What goes on? The Meth shit that we got is to stay high, no question Lethal weapon, ain't no time for half steppin When brothers start wettin everything in ya section Move that, niggaz came strapped, shoulda knew that Do dat, pussy cat rap, boy, I'll screw that To' up, from the flow up, don't even show up To the battle, I heard you rattle now hold up Is there a fuckin snake in my garden? Starvin, for a rap treat, steppin on my feet Pardon yo delf, before ya find yo delf In a FUCKED UP situation, without no help I'm not playin, cause I don't play with nobody God damn kid, know what I'm sayin, I'm peelin niggas wigs I be sprayin, brother with words Cause I got a spit PRAAA-BLEM Chorus One two uh, one two one two One two uh... (stick a fat tical in your butt, yeah baby fuckin with tical) (yeah niggaz better recognize... tical...) |
||||||
| 2. |
| 2:50 |
|
|||
|
What? What you want?
Represent, represent, represent Yeah, represent check it out check it out Yo mama don't wear no drawers! I saw her when she took them off! Standin' on the welfare line, eatin' swine Tryin' to look fine, with her stank behind You can ask the bitch and she'll tell ya fast Meth Tical got style with his nasty ass Are you ready to face the consequences and suffer? I even tell ya momma you ain't shit, motherfucker Bring it, and let that killer bee kid sting it And rep-resent, it's like heads up a brick, when I'm swing it Get lost, I break you off something I'm pumpin', like a Reebok, with a pump, from the jump and You was nothin' Bet ya thought ya fuckin' clan had ya fuckin' back but they was frontin' Smokin' dirt blunts and fuckin' nasty stunts and Ya take the naked gun without the bullet, what ya bustin' Get ya ship sunken, fuckin' with a drunken Master disaster at enemy rap functions Huh, just an echo Yoo-hoo ripin'-ripin', in the valley Yoo-hoo ripin'-ripin', so to bring back Sweet memories of you And you can even ask your crew Betcha bottom dollar that they tell ya fast Meth-Tical got style with his nasty ass Who said the Wu-Tang Clan? Was it you or your man? You want to point the finger, I'll bring ya 36 chambers, be out, youze in danger Let me pull ya brain outcha ass with a hanger Didn't momma not tell ya not to talk to a stranger Now ya got ya neck, in the noose, of the strangler Just recline, keep the Meth in mind I'll even test the knuckle check on the hands of time What? And I'll be more than glad to bust that ass All up and down the block, the street, the isle Whatever, smokin' on a Spike Lee joint Hey I'm Mo' Better, I'm hopin' niggaz get the point Cause they could never, stop the veteran, word to God When I'm severin' the head of a mental vegetarian The Method, at the weekend, with a whole lot of credit The cuties I desire, I be the first to set it off Flame on like the Human Torch Fantastic Four for all the fans in the store You can eat it all and it'll tell ya fast Meth-Tical got style for ya nasty ass 94 baby, word up, recognize, recognize Wu-Tang killer bee The RZA and the Method MZA Raider Ruckus, where you at? |
||||||
| 3. |
| 3:10 |
|
|||
|
Basically, can't fuck with me
<i>[Verse One:]</i> I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the King But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the Force Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin at me bruh, now bust it Styles, I gets buckwild Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze <i>[Chorus:]</i> Is it real son, is it really real son Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real <i>[Interlude: Booster]</i> And when I was a lil stereo (stereo) I listened to some champion (champion) I always wondered (wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that) <i>[Verse Two:]</i> Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke off the set comin to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me* Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you <i>[horn sound of car racing by]</i> <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Outro:]</i> I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You motherfuckers (So??) So fuck the hoe Fuck the hoe (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...) |
||||||
| 4. |
| 3:16 |
|
|||
|
[Chorus:]
You're all that I need, I'll be there for you If you keep it real with me, I'll keep it real witchu Loving your whole schemes, it be in there boo On top of that you got the good power-U [Verse One:] Check it out Shorty I'm there for you anytime you need me For real girl, it's me in your world, believe me Nuttin make a man feel better than a woman Queen with a crown that be down for whatever There are few things that's forever, my lady We can make war or make babies Back when I was nuttin You made a brother feel like he was something That's why I'm with you to this day boo no frontin Even when the skies were gray You would rub me on my back and say "Baby it'll be okay" Now that's real to a brother like me baby Never ever give my pussy away and keep it tight aight And I'ma walk these dogs so we can live In a fat ass crib with thousands of kids Word life you don't need a ring to be my wife Just be there for me I'm a make sure we Be livin in the fucking lap of luxury I'm realizing that cha didn't have to fuck with me But cha did now I'm going all out kid And I got mad love to give, you my nigga [Chorus 2X] [Verse Two:] I got a love jonz for your body and your skin tone Five minutes alone I'm already on the bone Plus I love the fact you got a mind of your own No need to shop around you got the good shit at home Even if I'm locked up North you in the world Rockin three-fourths of cloth never showin your stuff off, boo It be true me for you that's how it is I can be your Noah you can be my Wiz Then I can be your Sun, you can be my Earth Resurrect the God through birth Best believe [Chorus 2X] |
||||||
| 5. |
| 3:24 |
|
|||
|
All I hear is gun shots.
Can I touch something? What the blood claat! Niggaz want tical make it happen. You know my fuckin' style fuck the rappin' We can take it back to eighty five if you want to START actin' like you live It's all good. I'm rollin' with my clique Owls Packwoods & Phillies smokin' sess blunts mixed with illy Got me bustin' now the whole world looks dusted I'm in the area with the skill that never rusted. For real, nigga, touch it & you burn, when will motherfuckers learn What be spreadin' like a germ? Ha ha, it's Meth, word. I be that early bird that got the worm & if you check it I'm on point, like a fax machine you get the message. It be no question & them bust the second guessin's, Keep your thoughts on your lessons. What the blood claat! To tell the truth, you don't amaze me. Killa Hill project, A Star Trek phaser couldn't phase me. What, Check the Raderuckus FUCK this, Smoke a Dutchmaster, have 'em screamin' for the duchess Yeah, I gotta have it, so I strive to stick my piece If I don't do it for mydelf, I'm a do it for Kase, 'Cause that's my peoples, I'm giving you injections that be Lethal Weapon, when niggaz start the half steppin', Then I get evil. But don't let that negative vibe right there Mislead you, I'm humble, a fucking Killer Bee, Far from bumble. I sting you BZT and I bring you Thirty-six chambers of head banger, bitch, Why I deal with? I think the mic is on the fritz. Faggot soundmen! They be sabotagin' shit! Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane... Methical, let the whole world know my fuckin' name. What the blood claat! |
||||||
| 6. |
| 3:36 |
|
|||
|
Intro:
Duel, worthy of a general If you want to fight, fight with me! One to one! Man to man! Get ready to gel team! Live and direct from the one-six-ooh We got Tical, pow! Raekwon the Chef, Tical! It's about to go on, Tical! You make the call, I make the call! It's all for all Method Man, Raekwon the Chef (count my shells) And there's about to be one left (count my shells, nigga) I know you know it'son kid (Bring that shit I don't give a fuck!) *bell rings* Verse One: Method Man Who lit that shit it was I the chinky-eye Cheeba-hawk from New York, Tical Staten Isle niggaz thought, that they could walk a dog but they caught a bad situation, cause I'm a sandwich short of a picnic, cause you ain't equipped with the sickening style, blowing up the spot like ballistic missiles, I be comin through like the four-nine-three-eleven tearing up the power-you, Me-Tical A bad motherfucking buddah monk, what the fuck hit your chest, like cardiac arrest, blow the front out the frame, hit the pussycat for the pain of the dog shit, nobody move run your garments A rugged vet, terrible like a Champion sweat Wrap a power in a tec, to wet a nigga up, with all the dangerous diseases Sniffling sneezing coughing aching stuffy head fever Fucker, I think it's bout time that you suffer Bobbin on my nob like an all day sucker *bell rings* Bitch! Meth Vs. Chef (it's my turn) Meth Vs. Chef (yo let's bring that shit baby) Meth Vs. Chef (yo, yeah, one more time nigga) Meth Vs. Chef (callin me out, it's goin off) I blow your fuckin ass to death *bell rings* Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef I'm goin all out kid no turnbacks You could try to front, get smoked and that's that Lyric assassin, dressed in black buggin Sixteen shots to your mug, from a slug then I go to war in a conrete jungle, make the punt cause niggaz act funny, and fumble But I relax, count my shells, a lot of heads gotta fly Niggaz stay strapped, armed to die Time for jet-black Tim boot, flowin Wha-Su God get him, hit em with the nine troop No question, cha-cha-BLOW in the session Bloodshot in that direction, cypher *bell rings* 'Tack you like chess moves best move Yo, yeah, yo The boards, your ass 'Tack, 'tack, 'tack, uH! *bell rings* 'Tack the boards like chess moves best move at Rae through, comin at your motherfuckin crew Live direct, yeah you better step Gunshots ring on the set, let's jet Motivate, to the gate With some quick high Rae stay fly, and rob your Isle Airwaves, yo behave Now you're a slave with the boots that paved the way *bell rings three times* Ahh shit! Chef Vs. Meth Vs. Meth |
||||||
| 7. |
| 2:16 |
|
|||
|
(Chorus)
We can all get by if we want now Get a fat piece of the pie if we want Motherfuckers gettin' mad high when they want now I will survive, recognize it be Tical (Method Man) Word up, our niggas is strapped, ready for war on the ill block Things just ain't peace no more, fuck it If you ain't with me then forget me Niggas try to stick me, retaliation, no hesitation, shifty Creepin' niggas in the dark, triggas with no heart Rippin' ass apart, I'll be swimmin' with the sharks now Stay out my water or it's manslaughter Kid, you oughta start reachin' for that nickle-plated auto- Matic, my thoughts get sporadic, loaded raps Bustin' mad shots to ya attic They say this hazard, this flows a hazard Straight from Hazard County with a bounty on his head, and it said "Wanted Dead or Alive," I swear by the whites of they eyes To never take a dive I will survive (Chorus) Shit's gonna happen if niggas start actin' Like they want problems, you want 'em, you got 'em Rap contact, is writin' this exactly, the way it should be Attacked, Killer Beeeees on a swarm So what my martial law drops bombs like Qur'an The ism helps to stimulate my pugilism I bust rhymes like jizm, impregnate the rhythm with the wisdom Decipher the flow, I be hyper, I bring all the styles That rekindle like old flames Saliva, check the wicked flows I deliva Oops, I mean deliver like the Hudson River Styles be tight, trite like a thief in the night I be the sneaky-ass nigga bustin' nuts in yo wife Blasted, buggin' off Bacardi and acid Flippin' on the mic, it's a classic |
||||||
| 8. |
| 4:16 |
|
|||
|
[Intro/Chorus: Blue Raspberry]
When I first stepped on the scene, niggaz was petrified Jet back to the lab like they were being chased by homicide My rap flow does you like Tical, and it will never steer you wrong And all you bitch-ass niggaz in the industry your careers won't be lasting long [Chorus] [Verse One:] Check it, I'm the fuckin man, who they mention Notice, that other niggaz rap styles is bogus Doo-doo, prepare for this verse Tical voodoo Blazin, the stuff that ignites stimulation Inside ya, cuz I be that house over water forgot in the realm that be deep as the Poseidon adventure, niggaz need to touch they freakin picture For the sickness, that be spreadin with the quickness Remedies, cousin I be doin on my enemies Penalty, then I drink forties to they memories Emotion, rushin through your down street vicinity Blunt smoke, in the air reveals my identity (Tical.... tical... ti-cal, ti-cal...) As I keep it movin, we keep it movin uh Keep it movin, and keep it movin uh Keep it movin baby we be movin uh Keep it movin, we keep it huh RHARHHH What's that rhythm what's that sound Party people getting down When it hit the baddest man Just release, yo delf!! [Verse Two:] My God, somebody said it's on, if it isn't I'll be set To blow a nigga up, with my Five Fingers of Death I bring it to his whole damn fam, understand If he frontin, on any man down with the Clan I be comin, for the headpiece you can't cope For my brother, I bring it to the Pope, word to mother Serial, killa, style from Big Isle No Stat, my peoples are you with me where you at? Shit's gettin deep in here, I mean thick Niggaz lookin all in my face like they want dick It's about to hit the fan, hit the flo' That's all I can stands, and I can't stands no mo' What is it? Niggaz think they bigga Cause they got the finga on the trigga of a pistol They don't know I'm wicked, when I start to kick it With the raw sound, wash it down with a Mystic Then I add a Snapple, nigga want the juice But he don't want the hassle Then we try to overthrow the castle Better yet the tent when I'm comin to your town Black man, the rental, God, the pistol YAH! If you don't want a burn from GLOCK Then beware, I buck shots, we move up, the buck stops Here, no more dough will be made Unless it's being made by hoes What's that rhythm what's that sound Party people getting down When it hit the baddest man Just breathe in, till then And keep it movin, baby keep it movin I plan to keep it movin, you know we keep it movin uh And keep it movin, baby we be movin uh And keep it movin, you know we keep it movin uh And keep it movin, you know we keep it movin Baby we be movin, you know we keep it moo..RARHRAH [Chorus] [Outro:] Throw your hands in the sky And wave em from side to side And if you're ready to spark up the Meth-Tical Let me hear you say stim-uli [Chorus] |
||||||
| 9. |
| 2:36 |
|
|||
|
featuring Carlton Fisk
Chorus: P.L.O. style Buddha monks with the Owls P.L.O. style Buddha monks with the Owls P.L.O. style Buddha monks with the Owls P.L.O. style... Verse One: Method Man Here comes the ruckus the motherfuckin ruckus Thousands of cut throats and purse snatchin fucks Straight from the brain I'll be givin you the pain anger Comin from the 36th Chamber Bang! Tical hittin with the Buddha-Fist style Shotgun slammin in your chestpiece, plow! Brain, is blown all over the terrain Like a man without no arms you can't hang Time for a change of the guard You've been arrested for lyric fraud now you hard For real, check it, I pull strings like B.B. King on guitar I'm the true fist of the North Star! Verse Two: Carlton Fisk, Method Man Ooooooooh! What a tangled web we weave When first we practice to decieve Guns be clickin, runnin with my clan we be stickin Whatever, my street family stays together Represent what I invent, killa hill Resident, rest in peace to my nigga Two Cent The street life is the only life I know I live by the code style it's mad P.L.O... Iranian thoughts and cover like an Arabian Grab a nigga on the spot and put a nine to his cranium I..can't...get no satisfaction, niggas won't be lastin Long, unless they get protaction, for real Strong, comin with my clan so what's happenin Commercial rap, hate it with a passion The M-E-T-H-O-D got me drinkin O.E. all night in a M.P.V. Just maxin, lookin for hoes, you know relaxin Bitches know the hour it be time for some action P.L.O., peace to that nigga Barryano Word up, let's take him to the bridge, Verrazano Chorus |
||||||
| 10. |
| 3:46 |
|
|||
|
<Verse 1>
Niggas want to test my stees, Nigga please, I black that eye like peas You better freeze In ya tracks A Wu-Tang (bzzz) killer bee's on ya back I comes for the honey plus the phat money sack You want it all? Yeah I want it all like THAT I stab my own moms in the back for a stack Niggas like damn, why you want it like that? 'Cause I'm a dog, and I got no love for the cat Attitude's cold like the north polar cap Where I do my (????) a little further down the map A little black island Called Stat Where niggas carry gats in they Black Moon hat Now I'm mad known for the bones and the rap And youse an unknown with a phoney contract Wake up and smell the method, motherfucker Contact, fallin' in a cypher from a fallen head crack An indian giver and I'm out to take it back Shaolin Island, baby where you at? A runaway train that be runnin' on ya track That's how it's goin' down Yeah, it's goin' down like that <Chorus> I gets my thang in action To live, to love, to see, to learn <Break> Yo! Tell 'em what's happenin'! (What's happening? I'll tell ya wh-what's happening Tell 'em what's happening Brothers ain't got no peers and they be smokin' funny Shaddup!) <Verse 2> I swing funky rap routines and tap the jaws Betcha twenty points and ya still can't score Nuttin' 'Cause you ain't got no points in this game Kid, you frontin' A home run hitter and you be buntin' Brush out the toilet, I got my shit together When I'm good, I'm good, When bad, I'm better You want it? Whatever I be the stormy weather Rain coming down To weather with ya leather JACKET A nigga with a ax Couldn't HACK IT I spark 'em like a match (ssskt) Coming back it's the method To get louder The method Man, clap yo hands, now check it See me in the mist (????) But my physical brother came through and got me lift Niggas, that I walk by, give me the eye The mormon is fuckin' me up, killing my high Nigga get back, Ya pussy cat, I'm fearsome Basically dat, I'm all of dat, And 'den some While I, Was out on tour, Goin' beserk I heard you Was over at the sand box And kickin' DIRT |
||||||
| 11. |
| 3:38 |
|
|||
|
featuring RZA Inspector Deck Street Thug Carlton Fisk
Intro: RZA (singing by Blue Raspberry) *bees buzzing* *man screaming in torture* This is... (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) Serious the craziest ... d da (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) day da Danger dangerous... style Verse One: RZA Lyrical shots from the glock bust bullet holes on the chops I want the number one spot With the science, of a giant New York defiant, brutal like domestic violence Silence of the Lambs, o-ccured when I slammed in Foes grab their chairs, to be mad as Ralph Cramden Others come with shit, as silly as Art Carney But my Tetley triplizes, more kids than Barney Never need for stress there's three bags of sess a damn I rest, playing chess, yes My thoughts be sneaky like a crook from Brooklyn When you ain't lookin, I take the queen, with the rook then I get vexed, layin phat trax on Ampex Morphous God, gettin drunk, off a Triple X Violent time, I got more love than valentines The violent mind, I blast with a silent nine Verse Two: Inspector Deck My hazardous thoughts to cut the mic's life support short Brains get stained like tablecloths when I let off Powerful, poetry pushed past the point of no return Leavin mics with third-degree burns Let me at 'em, I cramp your style like a spasm Track em through the mud then I bag em We're screaming hardcore, hip-hop drips out my balls and I be raw, for four score plus seven more I strike like a bowling ball, holding y'all hostage like hail, electrifying the third rail Peep the smash on paragraphs of ruckus Wu-Tang (Clan ain't nuttin ta fuck wit) Verse Three: Method Man Hot time, summer in the city My people represent, get busy The heat-seeker, on a mission from hell's kitchen I gets in where I fits in for head-touchin, listen Enemy, is the industry got me flippin I don't give a fuck tell that bitch and a nigga I'm killin, snipin, catchin murder cases Desert Storm-in, I be searchin for oasis As I run a mile with a racist Pullin, swords, hit the Billboard with a bullet Peace to the number seven Everybody else get the fo'-nine-three-eleven (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) I don't know what's going on if you can take us there... Verse Four: Street Thug Yo, watch me bang the headpiece there's no survival My flow lights up the block like a homicidal murder, underground beef for the burger P.L.O., criminal thoughts you never heard of I switch, the city never sleeps, life's a bitch I shit, runnin through bitches like Emmitt Smith Caution, niggaz best to be careful crossin the street, before they end up layin in a coffin Don't sleep, niggaz tend to forget, however Peep this -- my nigga Case lives forever Verse Five: Carlton Fisk What evil lurks in the heart of men? It be the shadow, street-life, flowin again I had a plot, scheme, I knew for sure Only one kid would knock the hinges off the door The jerk tried to jet, Sabrina at his neck Thirteen pounds on the table plus a tec Just when I said, "Where the fuck's the cream?" Another jerk came out the kitchen with the M-16 He tried to cock it, blast these shots like, rockets Crushed his collarbone, ripped his arm out the socket My move for the table was swift, I got my hostage (The nigga tried to stab you God!) but I dodged it Niggaz said, "Carlton youse a ill motherfucker" Cause I made it look like they both killed each other And I'm out (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) |
||||||
| 12. |
| 3:46 |
|
|||
|
Let's come together for the stimulation
Meth Tical hit 'em with the stimultaion I got 36 styles on my mind Keep it real Shaolin represent one time All my peoples are you with me, where you at? All my killer bees on attack, where you at? Throw ya fuckin' hands in the air if you want to mix If ya got ya gats peel a cap for the new year Blinding devotion, What's the commotion? Wu-Tang clan Flowin' like the ocean (blue) I be comin' for your (crew) Flyin' guillotine (style) With the name Meth-Tical Is it on? Is it on? Is it gone? If I ain't on ya records then the shit ain't really on One man band from the Wu-Tang clan Ask who the man, goddamn, it be Method Here here I am in the plan Puttin' Def Jam's on my records It's on [Chorus:] Let's come together for the stimulation Meth-Tical hit 'em with the stimulation Can everybody feel the stimulation Meth-Tical hit 'em with the stimulation I'm here for you son, I gotcha back As long as you keep it real, word, I gotcha back Brothers want the drama but don't know how to act Until the chrome pointed at his dome head crack C'mon let's keep it real, no disguise, recognize From my sword chop what a nigga do? A nigga dies That's why I'm stressin' that brothers keep they thoughts on they lesson Resurrect yo mind from the essence For real I'll block nigga get rocked like by the dozen, Whaddup cousin? Now give a pound to that lounge nigga Peace, my MZA, killa hills 10304 So I just, uh, Make my way for the Wu building Now I'm chillin' with the neighborhood villains thug life it be on now Hear the gun blow as I milk another cow Let the method show you how niggas do it I study, In the life of good, bad, and ugly Part time call that nigga lovely But that ain't nuttin' Before I die, I'm a leave the world, With something, To remember me by The real stimuli Fool you be frontin' I keep it when I part like a natural disaster I keep it live Time more than '85 And my third eye got me thinkin' Mabye you and I should get together for whatever You never in ya long life had it better Then you got it now We be lifted, Tical Word, son, I like yo style [Chorus] [Overlapping Chorus:] Basically, I'm here for the stimuli To get high and for doughnuts Meth-Tical, it's 9-4, and it's raw, once more The Wu-Tang saga continues [Chorus] [Overlapping Chorus:] Wu-Tang clan, forever No we don't die we just multiply forever, and ever, and ever... [Chorus to Fade] |
||||||
| 13. |
| 3:17 |
|
|||
|
1,2 Uhh 1,1
1,2 Uhh 1,1 M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN [Verse One:] Hey, you, get off my cloud You don't know me and you don't know my style Who be gettin flam when they come to a jam? Here I am here I am, the Method Man Patty cake patty cake hey the method man Don't eat Skippy, Jif or Peter Pan Peanut butter, 'cause I'm not butter In fact I snap back like a rubber band, I be Sam, Sam I am And I don't eat green eggs and ham Style will hit ya, wham!, then goddamn You be like oh shit that's the jam Turn it up now hear me get buckwu-wu-wild I'm about to blow light me up Upside downside inside and outside Hittin you from every angle there's no doubt I am, the one and only Method Man The master of the plan wrappin shit like Saran Wrap, with some of this and some of that Hold up (what?) I tawt I tat I putty tat Over there, but I think he best to beware Of the diggy dog shit right here Yippy yippy yay yippy yah yippy yo Like Deck said this ain't your average flow Comin like rah ooh ah achie kah Tell me how ya like it so far baby paw The poetry's in motion coast to coast and Rub it on your skin like lotion What's the commotion, oh my lord Another corn chopped by the Wu-Tang sword Hey hey hey like Fat Albert It's the Method Man ain't no if ands about it It's the Method Man Uhh, like that baby paw Uhh I got, fat bags of skunk I got, White Owl blunts And I'm about to go get lifted Yes I'm about to go get lifted I got, myself a forty I got, myself a shorty And I'm about to go and stick it Yes I'm about to go and stick it [Verse Two:] Uhh H-you-F-F huff and I puff Blow like snow when the cold wind blow then Zoom, I hit the mic like boom Wrote a song about it like to hear it here it go Question what exactly is a panty raider Ill behaviour savior or major flavor All of the above oh yeah plus I do so Also flam I'm the man call me super Not an average Joe with an average flow Doing average things with average hoes Yo I'm super I'll make a bitch squirm For my, Su-per Sperm Check it I give it to ya raw butt naked I smell sess pass the Method Let's get lifted as I kick ballistics Missles and shoot game like a pistol Clip is loaded when I click bang dang A Wu-Tang slug hits your brain J-you-M-P jump and I thump Make girls rumps like pump and Humpty Hump Wow, the Shaolin style is all in me Child, the whole damn isle is callin me P-A-N-T-why-are-A-I-D-E-are mad raw I don't fry Meaning no one can burn or toss and turn me 'cause, Ooh I be the super sperm Chim chimmeny chim chim cherie Freak a flow and flow fancy free Now how many licks does it take For me to hit the Tootsie Roll center of a break Peep and don't sleep the crews mad deep Wu-Tang Fadin motherfuckers like bleach So to each and every crew You're clear like glass I can see right through You're whole damn posse be catchin em all cause you vic'd and ya didn't have friends to begin with I'm M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN Yes I am [Verse Three:] Uhh, Uhh Rappers crossing over to that R&B jinx Walk around town like your shit don't stink Take it from me, hey G, you don't amaze me Shot me at point blank range but only grazed me Nothing mental, just plain and simple Lyrics you bust couldn't bust a fucking pimple Come here kid, what, let me tell you something Your like change of a penny, nothing Wham, Oh shit, God Damn Skippy, hit me, man I get flam Better yet hectic, wreck shit, I'm rowdy Like a license check this be Audi Tippy tippy tum tippy tah tippy tum Direct from the Shaolin Slum, here I come Straight from the top, the cock, yo I'm fed up I put it in your ear and fuck your whole head up Wu-Tang's gang bang, up your butt crack and Straight from Staten, silky like satin Used to break clicks with stones and sticks Nowadays we do it with the Macs and clips The Method, Man The Method, Man The Method, Man Yes I am, Yes I am M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN Uhh, 92 for the Wu Now how brothers want it With salt or butter, motherfucker A doo-doo chop, a doo-doo chop, a doo-doo chop chop |
||||||
| 14. |
| 3:27 |
|
|||
|
Basically, can't fuck with me
<i>[Verse One:]</i> I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the King But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the Force Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin at me bruh, now bust it Styles, I gets buckwild Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze <i>[Chorus:]</i> Is it real son, is it really real son Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real <i>[Interlude: Booster]</i> And when I was a lil stereo (stereo) I listened to some champion (champion) I always wondered (wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that) <i>[Verse Two:]</i> Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke off the set comin to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me* Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you <i>[horn sound of car racing by]</i> <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Outro:]</i> I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You motherfuckers (So??) So fuck the hoe Fuck the hoe (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...) |
||||||
| 15. |
| 4:57 | 
|
|||
|
