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All New Lyrics
[Intro: Redman]
Get it!
Haha, Funk Doc in the building, bitch
Ya’ll already know the business, nigga, haha
[Redman]
Yo, let’s get it, yeah, I’m with it
Streets on fire, I’m frying my dinner
Quick like Sugar Ray Leonard, one love
Any boy get served like tennis
Menace, you call a rap bulldog
Me and my pen form into Voltron
Cold, my heart built with a snowball
And I fuck old women like Zohan
Roll on like Michem, Barry Bonds this bitch
When the beat start pitching
I’m broke, my ATM ain’t kicking
But what I drive, I build expensive
Look at me, nigga, I got it
In pocket, ask Houston how I ‘rock-it’
If I go hungry, you getting robbed
By me, Biggie Smalls and The Delfonics
[Interlude: Raekwon]
Yo, man, yeah, yeah, take it back to Rae shit
Straight off the muthafucking concrete, nigga
You know how I go, word up, let’s go
{Three minutes left…}
[Raekwon]
Before all the cussing and the gunfights
Don’t wanna run Nikes, yeah, scramble when it sunlight
G’s in my pocket of juice, blue goose
I’m a goon under the moon, glow on the boosters
Yeah, deadily my sons regret me
Windpipe writing, the mic fighting, respect me
I’m from where it get down, machete your mother
Snatch your brother, scrap you down
You know the deal, when we do this, chill
Catch me in Brazil, ratchet on, little glass of Tequil’
I sware to the real, my real, if I don’t win
Then I won’t spend, I’m grabbing bill
That’s the hammer, I’mma do this, nana
Niggas who hunt, snatch ‘em up, bite the clip, the banana
And this is for them good niggas, blow that L
And that blow that well, and watch the book, niggas
[Interlude: Raekwon (Method Man)]
Yeah, watch them jooks, niggas, you know what it be, man
Word up, niggas staying alive (Gotta kill these voices in my head)
{Two minutes left} Bunch of fucking roaches, man
[Method Man]
Jeter, married to the game without a pre-nub
And she don’t act up, if I don’t eat her
Damn, now that’s what I call a diva
You sick, man? I’m what you call a fever
And I don’t put no snow up in my cheeba
Pack a little heater, the game get colder in the freezer
Hit your little corner with the sweeper
Dance with the reaper, sharper than a fuck
Plus I’m laying in the cut like a half-moon Caeser
What you getting is the truth
My bird eye visions spot the pigeon in the coup
Same way I live it, how I spit it in the booth
Next to RZA, ain’t no nigga bigger than the group
Stat, fuck that, we come strapped
Bust gats, drug raps, and pump cracks
What you trying do nigga, we done done that
I’m off the gunrack, nigga put ya gun back
[Interlude: Method Man (Ghostface Killah)]
Yeah, you slow your blow, boy
You gon’ lay where you lie, nigga
(Get rid of the crack, and flush that dust
Hurry, where the L, move, come on, freeze, freeze)
{One minute left}
[Ghostface Killah]
Aiyo, I woke up in handcuffs, heard the police wanted me dead
Big bullets and splashing all over
Kingpin’s still moving that weight
And his main goon burned up a discotech
He’s a hazard, classic, nigga, we got a flick of him
He jacked Nate, while he took the picture
And we tapped his crib, bugs all in the jacuzzi
Under the seeds bed, we found an uzi
Trully, and we know about his bitch in Charlotte
Pulled her over, State Troopers found two revolvers
And she told us them handguns “That’s my fathers
And I’m licensed to carry those shits regardless
Ya’ll just played my man, caught her with a million dollars
Worth of fireworks, coming back from Japan
It’s nothing, ya’ll police be fronting
And stop looking at my pussy, like ya’ll want to suck it, I’m out
On ya’ll pussies, catch me next time, bye bye”
[Outro]
Alright, fellas stand back and watch the closing doors
Lock ‘em up! Let’s go, lights out
[Intro: Redman (Method Man)]
“This is for, all my smokers”
Whoo, one more, just keep the thing at the end of it
Alright, give me one more time on the count of three
1, 2, 3 “This is for, all my smokers”
(Yo, ya’ll done made the album, you heard) Yes sir
“This is for, all my smokers”
“This is for, all my smokers”
[Redman]
Aiyo, Meth, what’s up, nigga?
[Method Man]
Doc, what’s really good?
Got that bush and that Backwood, light up in any hood
Yup, I’m that hood, my brother, love me some Cali kush
Never thought that little bush in that baggie would have me hooked
I’m a pothead, everyone look, and point your fingers
At the bad guys, with the cottonmouths and glass eyes
Huh, fuck it, I’m that high, I’m blowing smoke clouds
Got my head in the clouds, fuck it, I’m that fly
Doc, what’s up, nigga?
[Redman]
Yo, you know how I bust
Find me drunk, fucked up at the Cannabis Cup
For those who don’t smoke, get the middle finger up
You smoke more than us, nigga, it’s beginner’s luck
My truck, ride with 5-0 eyes on it
It’s like the blunt, when you ain’t got five on it
I challenge any opponent, who wanna smoke?
We can puff til our voice get lower than Tone Loc, like
[Chorus: Redman (Method Man)]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ain’t nobody smoking more than me, up in here
(Aiyo, pump this shit, you get high off this here, because)
“This is for, all my smokers”
(I’m like yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ain’t nobody smoking more than Meth up in here)
Aiyo, bump this, bitch, you get high off this here, because)
“This is for, all my smokers”
[Redman]
Yo, I’m like oh my God, oh my God
I start growing sour dies’ in my home garage
Now niggas on the block, say I’m on my job
Cuz now I rock more chains than Amistad
This my ‘entourage’, this not HBO
A bitch see me, she like, oh there he go
You can smoke with the bro, if you got ass and nice tits
But fuck you, with that, I’m ‘high off of life’ shit
[Method Man]
They tried to make me go to rehab, no
Tell my P.O. that I ain’t trying let the weed bag, go
You can catch me in the whip, pushing the seats back slow
My chick’s a Rican, that mean she off the meat rack, though
Look ma, I’m eating, cuz when it’s time to get that dough
I sink my teeth in, and turn around and spit that flow
They call me beasting, I monster the booth, so in the cut
I leave ‘em bleeding, little swag’, with some Miss Dashing season
[Chorus]
[Method Man]
I got flavors, I major, baby, send in the troops
That Johnny Blaze ya, leave dashes in your Timberland boots
Can’t fuck with haters, just mad I got a pocket of loot
I’m chasing papers, ya’ll try’nna be a rock in my shoe
I’m a father, I don’t drink with kids, these youngers thinking they hard
I think harder than they think they is
I’m by as proper as my English is, and hope I did my thing
Before I die, for the things I did
[Redman]
Everybody light it up and smoke with your man
And cigarette smokers, change ya game plan
Cuz this is for all my, marijuana smokers
Backwoods, Swisher sweets, and Dutch rollers
Yeah, I pull over, start pulling out money
Cuz I by weed, like everyday 420
You know what else funny, I found was so gutter
I’m Cheech and Chong brother, just got different mothers
[Chorus]
[Redman]
Yo, I hit the ‘freeway’ after I ‘rock the mic’
Light up like Showtime when they about to fight
How bout dat, boy, when that truck ride 38’s
Your middle finger up at the light, I’m nice
Doc ride or die, I bubble up when the pouring peroxide
It’s dirty, lookie here
Still sharp like I’m back in school
It’s like Wonder Blade, cut a nigga smooth
Whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo, who let the dog loose?
Whips and chains, I don’t wanna argue
The big whale that’s writing fishscale
Like me, better believe, I’m too hard to harpoon
My goons, think like Chris Wallace
‘Give me the loot’ and I don’t wanna talk about it
When my niggas ‘get ‘em’, that’s when I
Crush the building, how about that?
[Chorus: Ready Roc (Redman) {Streetlife} ]
Look at my shoes, how about that, nigga?
(My car, how about that, nigga?)
{Getting money, how about that, nigga?}
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
[Ready Roc]
How about it, any nigga realer than me? I doubt it
Catch Ready hop out of v, low mileage
You see the way I play with money, I’m so childish
And, so stylish, looking like Gucci my sponsor
Kicks crazy, jewelry is bonkers
Whether in the club or you see me in concert
I go hard, who created a monster?
Me, Gilla be the click that I ride with
Talk slick, get flipped like a Sidekick
You wonder why your bitch is on my dick
Cuz the boy flow doper than five bricks
The MC wishing I simply
Be remembered like Big Pun, Biggie or Pimp C
And when my niggas say ‘get ‘em’, that’s when I
Blocka blocka, how about that, nigga?
[Chorus: Streetlife (Ready Roc) {Method Man} ]
Look at my house, how about that, nigga?
(Sour dies’, how about that, nigga?
{Big paper, how about that, nigga?}
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
[Streetlife]
How bout that, ten years plus in the rap game
And still getting cream like a fat cat
Plus, I’m grossing money off of ASCAP
Plus, my publishing, yea I owns that
First of all, my royalty come quarterly
My hoes, my niggas, all move accordingly
Streetlife, I’m so international
My foreign exchange, but always in the capitol
Straight cash advances, while you be calling
Your label all day, hoping someone answers
I flow with no auto-tone, just me and my bitch
My blunt, my beat, my microphone
I shine with no jewelry on, another star is born
Watch me perform, beyond the norm
And when my niggas ‘get ‘em’, that’s when I
Brr stick ‘em, haha, stick ‘em, how about that, nigga?
[Chorus: Method Man (Streetlife) {Redman} ]
Fuck what it cost, how about that, nigga?
(I’m a boss, how about that, nigga?)
{Straight pimping, how about that, nigga?}
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
[Method Man]
Pimp game, soak it up, you dig?
Hope your haters want beef, cuz I don’t touch the pig
How about that, boy, I’m a G, ain’t another MC
Or pedophile that can touch the kid, I do it big
Like Chris Wallace, big bank, big wallet
Got a flow that go straight to the pros, forget college
I still got it, if I got an issue, I flow the pistol
And I’m offical, just like them niggas that low the whistle
Word, man, I shoot to kill ‘em, you heard?
If you nasty, I shoot ‘em with penicilen, you heard?
I’m like Cali, so carry, when I’m flipping the words
Flip the script on your bitch ass while I’m flipping the bird
Meth sick with the pen, stick a few in your men
Then again, stick with my pen through the thick and the thin
Look, when my niggas ‘get ‘em’, I send ‘em to hell
And ride with ‘em, how about that, nigga?
[Chorus: Redman (Method Man) {Ready Roc} ]
Look at my crew, how about that, nigga?
(Gun bigger than you, how abotu that, nigga?
{Pop bottles, how about that, nigga?}
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
[Intro: Method Man]
Yeah, nice
Dedicated to all the beautiful people in the house
You know who you are
Yeah, Redman, Method Man, Blackout! 2
Sexy…
[Method Man]
Hair and nails done up, girl, you got your act together
You get the thumbs up, your raw footage is uncut
Fronting like them goodies is untouched
We both knew this money’s is young bucks
Ma, you ever take a trip to Shang-a-lot
Too many hard shames, the hardest one is saying goodbye
Look here, time is money, let me save you some time
And in your spare time, fully understand I’m a rare find
You know, so pick a day and pick a place and we there for sure
Slow up the pace, this ain’t no race, and there you go
I’m dope money, girl, that mean I got cash to blow
She love it though, she so international
Not around the way, around the world
And you be stunting when you around your girls
But you classy, though, I’m feeling your vibe, you feeling the high
The G4 is ready to fly, is you ready to ride?
Let’s go
[Chorus: Erick Sermon (Method Man) {Redman}]
International (Now we can creep, we can lay on the beach, you know
Then hit the sheets, I’ll let you play with my feet, you know
She keep it low, she so international)
International {Hey, I like a girl that’ll roll me a blunt, you know
With pretty feet, cook me something to eat, you know
You not a groupie, you’re international}
[Redman]
Hey, you know me, girl, who I be, girl
The big whale that bailed outta SeaWorld
What’s your name, show me I.D., girl
You look black and a little Chinese, girl
Hey, wait a minute, where you going, shorty?
Try to sneak past me like you ain’t balling
You look sweet like Tweet, baby, c-c-call me
Matter of fact, wasn’t you on Maury?
I’m just playing, hey miss thang
Hey, hey, miss thang, how you gon’ miss me?
I got tickets, let’s roll to the Knicks game
You Teena Marie, and baby, I’m Rick James
Excuse me, where you going, mama?
I wanna change, I voted for Obama
Bring in the new, kick out the old timers
Let’s talk while we go and meet your mama
[Chorus: Erick Sermon (Redman) {Method Man}]
International (Hey, I like a girl that’s thick in the waist, you know
The kind of girl, that’ll finish your plate, you know
You not greedy, you international)
International {The type of chick I like’ll wheelie your bike, you know
Rock the mic, roll a Philly uptight, you know
I like it though, she so international}
[Method Man]
Seems to me, me, you a queen to be
You mean girl, but you don’t mean to be
Got your crown and your throne, little castle you can rest your dome
And we can smoke a little greenery, you know?
You getting that dough, let’s get it and go on this cruise
I’m taking it slow, you painting your toes, and it’s cool
Fuck with your dude, I’m fucking with you
Like an overnight celebrity, Miss Nothing to Lose
[Redman]
Yo, hey, hey, miss lady, my boricua
I heard your Applebum like Bonita
Your accent telling me you from the eastside
Take off your shoes, you bout five feet high
I get high, what about you?
A jungle brother, and baby I house you
Your feet looking real good in them house shoes
You’re not a groupie, you international
[Chorus: Erick Sermon]
International…
International…
[Intro: Method Man (Redman)]
I wanna deal, with a bigger asshole
The streets, it’s coming down hard
We got to get our shit together
We always had music, eating off the game
Like you was never gon’ run dry, that ain’t no business
(No other game is run so disorganized
Look around you, every hood that’s taking care of business
Is together, dig it, tight?)
[Method Man]
I can’t spend my life running away
For what it’s worth, how much dirt can I get done in a day?
I got, clip in the AK (a blunt in the tray)
I’m a beast (Fuck the police) N.W.A.
Ya’ll play this game that the huster’s play
And if you dress in the metrosexual way, then muthafucka, you gay
Ya’ll can save this drama for Kay Slay, like who’s fucking my chick
Or writing books about sucking my dick
Now I don’t give a fuck what they say, cuz once I put on my cool
They see my life and wanna put on my shoes
Top of the world, ma, look at your dude
I dig a chick with an attitude, but I don’t let her cook up my food
It’s like these young niggas hugging the strip
Who got the power to move bricks and buildings never loving the bitch
Stripping with game, ya’ll can guzzle a sip, ain’t nothing change
My niggas is off the chain, and we don’t muzzle the pit, a-ha
“Can I get a suuuuuuuu?”
“Aiyo, this bounce right here for all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight”
[Redman]
Soon as I, pick up my pen, I begin my flow
I close my eyes then write rhymes in a Blackout mode
My uzi, weigh over a ton, CD plays over
I do my crime with baking soda, with no odor
Pull out like boat motor streams, crack your shoulder wing
Def Squad decoder ring, psychopath bordering
My dogs shitting on your lawn, while you watering
Pay the fine, audit him and shit on your lawn again
D.O.C. get it, C.O.D., my hood
P.O.P., nigga, N.J. deep, baby
Jersey state of mind, Method Man, lock ‘em in
Ya’ll niggas give a fuck, punk, we the opposite, yup
I hear you gossipping, cuz we on
Just because I rock, don’t mean I’m made of stone
My bones is sturdy, I wake up to get it early
When I bully the streets, my Co-D is Keith Murray
In a hurry, back down, the boy roll with us
This how it sound when them boys is transmitted
Bricks to Staten Island, where babies turn into killers
That’s why my Cadillac bare more arms than caterpillers, let’s get it
“Can I get a suuuuuuuu?”
“Aiyo, this bounce right here for all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight”
[Chorus 2X: Pimp C sample]
I get tore up, I get tore up under city lights
Tore up every city, I get tore up under city lights
I get tore up, I get tore up under city lights
Tore up under city lights, tore up under city lights
[Redman]
Yo, I’m rolling in my ride, my eyes real chinky
Hit 145, buy like 12 twinkies
Today a good day, I know, don’t jinx it
I ‘will’ keep a ’smith’, just like Jada Pinkett
Baby, without blinking, I do it my way
I shit on folks, the opposite of R. K.
I’m rude, pardon me, I’m too hood
Doc on your mind all the time, like New E.R.A.
Who am I? That nigga too fly
My mama gave birth on Continental Airlines
I ain’t lying, I’m back, boy, you hit the backboard
I’m all swish, make a memo on your black board
This class here, nigga, is for the underground
UGK, Doc and Meth, locking the summer down
And I ain’t playing games, homey, so get it right
Cuz I ‘get tore, I get tore up’ under city lights
[Chorus]
[Method Man]
I dropped to 95, now I’m on 95
South and the dirty been riding dirty since Dirty died
I gets it early, my nigga, heard me, I’m certified
And when I ride, I’m with Reggie Noble, New Jersey Drive
I make it happen, homey, I take you back when I was wearing ponies
And them older niggas was snapping on me
How many rappers know me? I know what cash own
Face it, this game I take it, in holy matrimony
And now can’t nothing hold me, I fucks with UGK
Some dudes is more like Kobe, I’m more like Rudy Ray
You either in it pimping, or you just in the way
I love this life that I’m living, your shit can end today
Two things to know about me, I guess I’ll never change
And keep this money like Southern Cali, and never rain
And I ain’t playing games wit ya, so get it right
And I ‘get tore, I get tore up’ under city lights
[Chorus]
[Bun B]
For the king of the trill is up in this bitch
Drop the top, but I get the switch
You see my level, he tuck the stitch
Texas, nigga, we getting rich
Fuck a hater, man, fuck a snitch
G-Code nigga, we don’t love the po-po
No more swag, now pass the dough dough
We keep it super tight like pants in SoHo
I’m bout my dough, ho, so don’t play with my bread
Man, I be trying to stop the violence nowadays so it’s dead
I’m popping that trunk and grabbing that chopper, putting that K to ya head
I’d rather be laying up in the bed with your baby and may getting head
Yeah, my Cadillac car is candy painted, dripping like Bernadette
My steering wheel is woodgrain, I grip it and turn it quick
I’m riding bowls, black with yellow stripes, like a Steeler
And as far as the rims go, I’m an 84 dealer
A smile peeler when I mash out in the Cady
Lean it back up on the leather, man, and smoking on a fatty
This UGK 4 Life, if you ain’t know you better get it right
Why, ‘I get tore, I get tore up’ under city lights
[Outro: Redman]
UGK, Redman, Method Man, in the fucking building, bitch
[Intro: Redman]
Turn the beat up a little bit
Got to get that part, baby
I’mma do it like this, baby, I don’t give a fuck, baby
Yo, yo
[Redman]
I walk in the spot, and I see niggas standing ’round
So I ask what’s going down
Got a girl in the back, a blunt in the mouth
And a chain on my neck, hang to the ground
Hey, I said how you feel?
Baby look tough with a gangsta grill
I ain’t rich, but I pay my bill
I’m like Jay, I’m trying to drop me ‘a mil’
My hood tripping, chrome wheel whipping
With all these hoes, you can tell I’m slipping
Shots of Patron, got bird eye vision
Even broke niggas wanna learn my pimping
Yeah, yo, let’s be clear
You’re unaware what’s in the underwear
She said ‘yeah’, I said ‘yeah’
Pulled the purp’ out and put it in the air
[Chorus: Redman (Method Man) {Poo Bear}]
Aiyo, I smell something burning up
So I throw it up, and I put it in the air
(Tell that DJ, turn it up
While I roll it up, and I, put it in the air)
{Higher, we gon’ take it, higher, watch me move it
Higher, we put money in the air} Put, put, put, put
Put it in the air
[Method Man]
When I come up in the club, and I see my niggas on the wall
And I’m like ‘yo, what’s wrong with ya’ll ?’
Got these girls in the spot, and I don’t care if she a bird or not
Cuz I ain’t really trynna talk to ya’ll
Got a pocket full of stones, grown with a pocket full of bones
I’m a class act, I follow with the chrome
Lane switching, got your misses on the phone
Baby girl, turn ya head and teeth missing out her comb
Look, I want this money off the books
Little kush, and a Playboy bunny that can cook
You wan’t the truth? Man, you fucking with a crook
But these niggas want the juice, now they fucking up the jooks
Jimmy Crack Corn, and I don’t muthafucking care
Cuz the green is the only thing puffin’ over here
So be clear, put this bug up in your ear
Meth and Doc put it down, yo, put it in the air
[Chorus]
[Redman]
A dude like me, keep a boom boom in the truck
So you hear Doc rolling up
Middle finger in the air, to my haters, yo, what’s up?
You can tell Doc fuck shit up
Hey, nigga, I’m so hood
My hand on the pump, niggas understood
Bitch, I’m no good, I swear
Light shit up like Times Square, put it in the air
[Method Man]
I got a bottle of Patron, I’m the only one that spent that cash
But everybody try to get they glass
Now we can all have a drink, if you trying to put some dough in the bank
But if not, ya’ll can kiss my ass
I need a, Cinderella that can give me the loot
Better yet, a French vanilla that can give me the scoop
Oh yeah, just so we clear, put this bug up in your ear
Meth and Doc put it down, yo, put it in the air
[Chorus]
[Intro: Redman]
Yessir, Red and Meth in the muthafucking building, nigga
Yeah… yeah.. ya’ll already know the muthafucking business, nigga
Agh, let’s go, yo check it
[Redman]
Yo, you can, find me up inside a whore
Making her legs go up like Ferrari doors
Gilla House get ‘Chips A’Hoy’, don’t sniff the boy
But I’m naughty like Tommy Boy
Go back like Atari cords, still here, shit
Superman ended up in a wheelchair
I’m fresh like Bel-Air, I paid my dues
And you trying to be cool up in Sunday school
Can’t move when I flow, bet a nigga gonna copy
Take it home, study it, then he gon’ profit
In the rap game, every nigga gonna gossip
Even Herbie Hancock know Red rock it
Yo, Red, stop it, time is up
Only nigga that’s fly on the rhyme is us
Cuz, no one can stop me
Da-da-na, da-da-na, like Rocky
[Chorus 2X: Redman (Method Man) {The Notorious B.I.G. sample}]
Aiyo, this how it sound when them boys underground
Nigga, check our style, we some {Dangerous M.C.’s}
(Game over, forget ‘em, forget ‘em, forgot ‘em)
(Game over, forget ‘em, forget ‘em, forget ‘em) {Dangerous MC’s}
[Method Man]
Yo, back when chef mami used to sell plates, we used to sell base
I learned to wipe my nose and wipe the prints off the shell case
Don’t want no jail case, freedom miles standing at hell’s gate
It’s hot, and the devil’s my cell mate
The game’s addictive, I can’t stop, it’s like I’m chasing that first high
Like Betty Crocker baking that first pie
The beef we serving is stir fried, swerving all through your urban
Hurting, every gate and corner, you working, I’m
The bottom line, the school of hard knocks turn into Columbine
And my set is throwing up dollar signs
Some get gwop, some get pop, me?
I got a ziplock of bubble gum, just for selling Chris Rock
Nobody move, nobody shot, Meth, I’m in the body shop
Where you rummy, rolling your body drops
I’m trynna stand on my own two, get signed to a major
Be a franchise player and get my own shoe
[Chorus 2X]
[Redman]
Check it out, yo
I be like “yiggy yes y’all”, Doctor on call
I’ll rock ’til my name in graffiti on the wall
Got flow like the rappers in Great George
Got weed? (I got blunt) My name Jamal
I pause, flick the ash from my L
I (Pause) like Run and Jason Mizell
The emcee is me, host for the night
Papa Doc, only thing I don’t choke on the mic
I choke a bitch out if my gwap ain’t correct
Then with my giant hancock, I’ll get the cheque
I love trucks but drop-tops is the best
From the Beemers, Benz, now Rolex - watch me
Haha, she like “Red so cool”
Any nigga after me, it’s a deja vu
Doc stay in the paint like A.I. shoes
Just watch how a one tonner made a move, dig it!
[Chorus: Saukrates]
Hop in my truck and roll up the window
A-yo, you know what you in for
Once we turn the corner, light up the endo
A-yo, a-yo, a-yo
Yes she with me getting low like a limbo
Roll with Gs and we’ll show you how to get dough
Third degree, let it burn with my kinfolk
A-yo, a-yo, a-yo
[Method Man]
Who these corner store rappers slinging cracks in my hall?
Mama’s in the kitchen cooking cat, rat and dog
Me, I want a little something, y’all could have it all
I tryna walk before I crawl and move this package in my draws
That’s why I push the pedal to the muh’fuckin floor
With ten per cent method, only plug something poor
and still I keep it funky like four plus one more
Get this money like “In God We Trust”, trust your boy
It’s a given, living this life it was written
Especially for me, I’m what the recipe is missing
Blow my piff in the air, key the ignition
Then get to lane switching, plucking ashes off the clip and
Mammy wanna ride and play the Bonnie to my Clyde
If anybody try to (Kill Bill), it’ll probably be the bride
Like all jokes aside, I’m serious with mine
and now I’m on this grind like Method Man in his prime
[Chorus: Saukrates]
[Redman]
Yo, I got my swagger on and I feel great
Funk Doc be in the hood like Enfamil cases
I network on MySpace real late
Hoping my album make me another Bill Gates
Around my crib, look how I live
I’m a slob but crip niggas say I get biz
Anywhere I did a show women saying that I’m
“So aaaaaa-ma-zing”
[Method Man]
Yeah, another mic, another night and the day’s end
Another heist, another kite in the state pen
My state business shit, y’all dudes just break wind
New York nigga, either you’re made mice or made men
I do the dirt that keep my hand on the work
I got the other hand up Mona Lisa’s skirt
My aim one since day one stop
How many shots will it take to make son drop?
[Chorus: Saukrates]
[Redman - Repeat to end]
Hey!