Альбом Method Man

[Intro: sample]
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!)

[Method Man]
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

[Chorus: Method Man]
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

[Outro: Method Man]
How could you ever say that I'm washed up
When I'm the dirtiest thing in sight
4:21... The Day After

[Intro: Method Man]
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...

[Method Man]
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: Method Man]
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

[Method Man]
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]

[Method Man]
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]

[Outro: Method Man
W-T-R-B...
Wu-Tang Radio, Bitch...

[Intro: Method Man]
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...

[Method Man]
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 85 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: Method Man]
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

[Method Man]
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 mayonaise jars
Purple haze, Cuban layed cigars, I'm a problem, nigga

[Chorus]

[Method Man]
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 2X]

[Intro: Method Man]
Yeah... one-two, one-two, it's Big M-E-F
The phenom from Vietnam, fresh out of rehab, yo
On my way the weedspot, haha, what's good?
Fuck that, what's hood? Staten Island Advance
Big up to my man Magic down in MIA, what up cuzo?

[Chorus: Method Man]
Knock-knock, who is it, ah shitted
Hot peas and butter, come and get it
Somebody done fucked up, now
Meth spit it, I comes with it
Quick to tell these critics, eat a did-ick
Somebody done fucked up, now
Y'all done did it, done stepped in it
Now run and tell them niggaz who the realest
Somebody done fucked up, now
Can you dig it, you'll never stop the kid up in the fitted
Live with it, somebody done fucked up

[Method Man]
Look, I'm cutting corners on these clowns, marijuana and pounds
Found with Staten Island niggaz that run up on you with rounds
Take a drag, pass it around, guess who back in your town
And the crowd vict', with Officer Brown patting him down
Shit's thick, thick as harmony grits, cuz with some thugs
Ain't no, harmony bitch, them niggaz probably snitch
Y'all be the judge, look what happened to Cocheese
What happens when your co-d's is talking to police, you dig?
Half a cig, let me fuck with ya wig, although you loving the style
They're ain't a pedophile could fuck with the kid
Now that I'm back up on my, feet, take it back to the streets
In the GM with your BM, in the passenger seat
Riding hood, by my hood, ain't no hike in the wood
Life is good, it's so good, live it twice if I could
Man, it's me, once again it's that Wu-Tang
Crushing the shit that you bring, you know how we do things

[Chorus]

[Method Man]
Yo, pulling my shoes up, scuffing my Timbs, back to when?
Puffing again, who stunting, cops fucking with them
Feeling the blow, goosebumping the skin, and on the scale
Of nothing to ten, a ten, man, it's nothing to him
See you can tell by how I'm clutching my pen, like Mae Weather touching her chin
She stunting, going up in her friend
Tell the label give me something to spin, and every light got a price
You want a slice, but we ain't cutting you in
Man, these fiends know my past work, held a monkey until they back hurt
Money talking, wonder what that's worth
And MCF, mean Cash First shit, picture the kid
On the beach in Hawaii, minus the grass skirt
Blast first, ask questions last
Black herse, nigga, stretch yo ass, y'all niggaz know what this is
It's New Yitty, this ain't just a fad
It's M-E-F, and I ain't Biggie, but I'm just as Bad, Boy

[Chorus]

[Outro: Method Man]
Yeah, Big M-E-F, Staten Island Advance, motherfuckers
Word up, don't ever count me out, just count me the fuck in
I'll be back for more...

[Нет текста]

f/ Kwamé

[Intro: Kwamé]
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!
FALL OUT! FALL OUT! FALL OUT! FALL OUT!

[Method Man]
S.I. (rockin' it) N.Y. (rockin' it)
Shit 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 (hold on)
Who the fuck is this? About to bring the ruckus
This just ya boy, I'm some on other shit
My nigga, take a puff of this
Piff man, I'm loving this, is Staten Island up in this?
Bitch, like we running it, and somebody wanna pub-a-lic (I'm coming)
Turn it up a bit, so my thugs can thug a bit
If I got my brother get, K, we got another hit
Ladies please, where y'all puffin' them trees?
I'm damaging M.C.'s, oxygen, you can't breathe, fall

[Chorus 2X: Method Man (Kwamé)]
Fall out, yeah, I'm going all out (hold on)
Hold on, man, what's really going on (I'm coming)
And when I'm coming, a hundred miles & running (keep back)
Keep back, y'all ain't got it like that (fall out)

[Method Man]
Here we go again, herb-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, knawimsayin', 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
Cuz tonight's the night, and me and my niggaz ain't playing (keep back)
Y'all done did it now, another critic kicked Tical
Alotta niggaz mad cuz I ain't fold like they figure, now
Let me put my fitted down *hwak* 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

[Chorus 2X]

[Method Man]
Aww shit, ain't this about a bitch
I give a fuck about a bitch, I'm more about a grip
And I'm all that a nigga got, the more he gotta get
Feeling like a million dollars, buyin' million dollar shit (keep back)
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 (keep back)
I'm deadin' ya kids, and burn another blizz
What it is, what it is, Wu-Tang is for the kids
So niggaz please, why y'all puffin' them trees
I'm damaging M.C.'s, oxygen, they can't breathe, fall

[Chorus 2X]

[Outro: Method Man]
Rest in peace Ol' Dirty Bastard a/k/a Dirt McGirt

f/ Ol' Dirty Bastard

[Intro: Method Man (Ol' Dirty Bastard)]
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..

[Ol' Dirty Bastard]
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 niggaz gon' 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 niggaz been loved Dirt
Take a shot to the head, if you been through the worse
Show respect to your niggaz, who been doin' it first
And be comin' with that shit, I'm just doin' the worse

[Chorus 2X: Ol' Dirty Bastard (Method Man)]
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, we still sniffing coke
Even if you tried your best, yo, I can spit)

[Method Man]
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

[Chorus 2X]

[Hook 2X: Ol' Dirty Bastard]
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck...

f/ 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]

[Intro: Ginuwine (Method Man)]
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

[Method Man]
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 suprised, 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
Cuz still ain't nothing changed but the jewels
You still paying dues, when we should be laying on the cruise
Some icecubes, playing with ya boobs, knawmean

[Chorus: Ginuwine]
Let's ride, we get it everyday, it's doesn't fail
And I always wanna know how you feel
Cuz 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

[Method Man]
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 & 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]

[Hook: Ginuwine]
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]

[Outro: Method Man]
Yeah, this is Ginuwine, uh
Method Man, yeah, I like that

f/ La the Darkman, Raekwon, U-God

[Intro: Raekwon]
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

[Raekwon]
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

[Chorus: La the Darkman]
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

[U-God]
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

[La the Darkman]
Nigga, we glide when we ride, don't choke when we smoke

[Method Man]
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

[Chorus 2X]

[Нет текста]

[Intro: Method Man]
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

[Method Man]
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 chaffeur
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: Method Man]
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 pleed
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)

[Method Man]
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]

[Method Man]
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 2X]

f/ Lauryn Hill

[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

f/ Fat Joe, Styles P.

[Intro: Method Man]
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

[Method Man]
How should I get it started, fuck it, just get it started
These trash talking artists is nothing, niggaz 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, never wind up and joke
Crack deals on every corner, fiends wanna foam you with soap
And, if life's a bitch, then I bet she bitter and cold
Everytime 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
Cuz hip hop ain't feeling them flip-flops, they feminine

[Chorus: Method Man]
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, fuck with me (ya'meen), yeah, fuck with me (ya'meen)
If you not for squealing, and for spilling the (ya'meen)
The streets is watching the apple rotten like (ya'meen)
Plus the B.B. hot and the towers dropping like (ya'meen)
Yeah, fuck with this (ya'meen), yeah, fuck with this (ya'meen)
If you get it popping, or get to popping 'em (ya'meen)

[Fat Joe]
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 guns
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 niggaz is fucking with
I - can - take - life - nig... just for the fuck of it
Crack's crazy, that nigga'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, nigga

[Chorus]

[Styles P.]
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, niggaz sippin' soup
Ghost rapper, knocking out your icey mouth
Niggaz in the East wanna unite, not me
If you ain't sayin' I'm the best, you ain't come to be right
KnawImean? If you don't, then you not of being
Your four-four, knock little pieces off of your spleen, nigga

[Chorus]

[Hook 2X: GZA sample]
"Konichiwa bitches"

[Method Man]
What up, what up, these niggaz suck
They can't hold a fort, better hold that thought, B.
If I can't get it off, see my attitude is MSG
Fuck it, I'm salty, the game been loss me
Pay ya dues, it cost me, who acting like I'm past my prime
Hey Carlton Fisk, nigga, pass the nine, who wanna cross me, now?
And put my body in the lost and found
You with the business, then bust off a round
It's like the passions of Christ, get crucified just for having that ice
And the audacity for having that life, while niggaz starving & shit
The main reason they be robbing and shit
The same reason you've been targeted bitch (these niggaz must of forgot)
The thin line between a hoe and a trick
Give 'em the clip between the four and the fifth (yea, motherfucker I'm high)
There I go again, blowing a spliff
When I exhale, it's like I'm blowing a kiss (konichiwa bitches)

[Chorus: Method Man]
N.Y.C., is all I see
O.D.B., nigga, R.I.P. (konichiwa bitches)
This Killa Beez on ya M.I.C.
You want it all, well then y'all like me (konichiwa bitches)
Come on, come on, I think they playing my song
I came to blow them out the frame, and I'm gone (konichiwa bitches)
M-E-T, to the H-O-D
Why motherfuckers wanna hate on me? (konichiwa bitches)

[Method Man]
For every rhyme, there's a hair on my chest
Scared of the Man, you should be scared of the Meth
Now every damn that I drop, is homicidal, that could dare to be done
There's no survival, now who care to be next? (if you don't know me by now)
Know where the borough is, doing it for
The most thoroughest, you doing the most, pa
The French call it "forpa" when fucking with son, the odds a hundred to none
Too many flavors, y'all ain't fucking with one
It's getting deep, see the plot thicker
No place to be, if you bi-atch, nigga
Outside the Clan, we always got RZA
I put it down, like I don't give a
One in the head, I bet he don't get up, we drinking malt liquor
Out of your Benz, just to talk slicker
Then paint a scene that you can all picture
You going in? Well, let me walk with cha
It's Method Man, but for short Mr., Mef (konichiwa bitches)

[Chorus]

[Hook 4X]

f/ Inspectah Deck, Streetlife

[Intro: Method Man]
Yeah... yeah... Allah Math...
Yeah... yo... yo...

[Method Man]
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...

[Chorus 2X: Streetlife]
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

[Inspectah Deck]
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

[Chorus 2X]

[Streetlife]
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

[Chorus]

f/ Redman

[Intro: sample (Method Man)]
"Walk on" (yeah, yeah, yeah)

[Method Man]
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"

[Redman]
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"

[Method Man]
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"

[Redman]
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"

[Method Man]
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"

[Redman]
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"

[Нет текста]

f/ Raekwon, RZA

[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...

[Chorus: Megan Rochell]
We both know, that our love will grow
And forever, will be you and me...

[Method Man]
Give me a woman that get down for me, my one and only
That don't fuss or f**k around on me, or leave me lonely
Not just a honey, but a homey, just wanna hold me
'cause 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

[Chorus]

[Method Man]
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
'cause 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

[Chorus]

[Megan Rochell]
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

[Method Man]
Give me a woman that get down for me, my one and only
She don't fuss or f**k around on me, or leave me lonely
Not just a honey, but a homey, just wanna hold me
'cause 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

[Megan Rochell]
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

[Chorus]

[Нет текста]