Method Man - Play IV keeps
Tekst :
[Method Man]
Ha, yeah yeah yeah, yeah yeah
One time.. yo
Never liked son from day one, bring you tool
That nigga stick you and play dumb, hate a bitch-ass
Who care where you came from, you ain t prepared
for when the pain come, this nigga scared, shook to death
from a cold stare, stuntin, knowin my brothers fiend
to do you somethin over here, we head huntin
in the function I smell fear, adrenaline start pumpin
I Smash Pumpkins, Hard Rock be in the Cafe
Tear the club up, and anyone that try to judge us
The last days, makin sure I get the last say
In the food chain, is you predator or prey?
If you featherweight, lyrics blow your back
crack your vertabrae, lookin for a better way
to get my point across, thoughts accelerate
at the same speed, of the muder rate
Lord, never perpetrate a fraud, til my nigga Carlton Fisk
see the boss, truly yours, Mr. Meth
[Street Life]
Life s a snippet, one way ticket
Time tickin fast, blink you might miss it
Semen on Street shit, you might catch fifty stitches
Body bag sprayed up, buried in muddy ditches
I play for keeps, bust heat you catch cold feet
My rap sheet, speak for itself, concrete
Evident, Killa Hill, resident, double dart agent
Secret intelligent my rap style s flagrant
Chorus One: all
Feel the sting of a killa bee, Johnny Blaze
Street Life, Deck and Mobb Deep, Play IV Keeps
In the city that you never sleep, pay attention
Ain t no shittin when you gotta eat, we hold it down
[Inspectah Deck]
I move like Mad Max cross the wasteland
One hand holds the head of the last brave man
Made man, Cuban Link chain of command
Authorized fam , hot like Sahara sand
My live team turn the club to a crime scene
High beams flash, promoters die behind CREAM
Get your face blown, might face the chrome
We take this more serious than just a poem
[Havoc]
I think about a lot of shit, especially when I m bent
About the foul shit goin on in my life, current event
It s evident I smoke ciggarette down to Brownsville
Thinkin to myself -- how many lives must my pound kill?
Hopefully none, ain t the one to give chase
Hemmed by Jake, worryin who might turn state s
So I chill, put my killa niggaz on the battlefield
On the low plottin silent murderer, never doubt still
never follow beef hey beef follow me
Wanna settle in the court I say settle in the streets
like our pops did it, you got gats get hot with it
Now you dry snitchin, because you got knocked with it
I just rock with it, go with the flow, think for a hot minute
Stash my dough secure the funds of profit
[Prodigy]
Yo, extreme rhyme niggaz, you wastin your time
Fuckin with my niggaz, extrordinary line swishin
your mind out position, tryin to figure this shit
Rewind it and listen quick, you might miss this
Olympic, rap jave-lon, travel beyond, your weak song
Doin this for too long, to not come strong
You re only a pawn of Viet Dong
Tryin to form against mines, you musta just been born
Secluded on a distant farm
This is the real world, where niggaz get shot and shanked
Where there s tremendous pain, you get your frame inflamed
Crushed to dust, by the next man s clutch
It s Infamous you fucks, intense bad luck..
Chorus One
Stand strong on our two feet, we all ready
for a war here, fuck peace, what?
Chorus One
Stand strong on our two feet, we all ready
for a war here, fuck peace, peace
Method Man - Biscuits
Tekst :
Intro:
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
Verse One:
Are you ready, to face the consenquences 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
Interlude:
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
Verse Two:
Who said the Wu-Tang Clan? Was it you or your man?
You wanna 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 coul 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
Outro:
94 baby, word up, recognize, recognize
Wu-Tang killer bee
The RZA and the Method MZA
Raider Ruckus, where you at? Method Man - How high
Tekst :
Intro:
Takin it from the top?
Tippy? Tippy?
How High
The Ultimate High
Verse One: Method Man
Scuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a pocet full a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for their culture
Stalk the dead body like a vulture
Tical get, HMMM
Blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house n projects
I represent the Shaolin my nigga
Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow
It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down
Verse Two: Redman
While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!
Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs
The Green-Eyed Bandit can t stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me wild
(Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide
Verse Three: Method Man
10 9 8 7 6 5 4
3 2 Murder 1 lyric at your door
Tical bring it to that ass raw
Breakin all the rules like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours
Fucka, we dont need no rap tour
I d rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture
More than you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all nite store
For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
And end your existance, M-E-T
Ain t no use for resistance, H-O-D
Verse Four: Redman
I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I dont stop till I get enough
Your shit broke down, light your flare
Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares
6 million ways to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed
The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap
And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass
And yo my man (Tical) hit me now
Bitches use to play me now they cant forget me now
Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock
Empty off a lickin off a hip hop
Fuck the billboard, Im a bullet on my block
How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?
Chorus:
Look up in the sky, it s a bird, it s a plane
It s the funk doctor spock smokin buddha on a train
HOW HIGH? So high that I can kiss the sky
HOW SICK? So sick that you can suck my dick
Look up in the sky it s a bird it s a plane
Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain t a damn thing changed
HOW HIGH? So High that I can kiss the sky
HOW SICK? So Sick that you can suck my dick
Verse Five: Method Man
Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
It ain t really on till the Ruckus get, home
Puff a meth bone, now I m off to the red zone
we don t need your dirt weed we got a fuckin O
Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic
Movin on your left kid, and I m methted, out my fuckin dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast
Hailin from the big East Coast
Where niggaz pack toast
Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
[Hey boy, you s the rude boy on the block
You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped]
As I run around with a racist
My style was born in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, eff a rap critic
He talk about it while I live it
If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it
Verse Six: Redman
Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya
Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin blunts an all day habit
I get it on like Smif n Wes
Punks take a sip and test
Who split your vest
The funk phenomenon
I m bombin you like Lebanon
Blow canals of Panama
Just off stamina
Styles not to be fucked with, or played with
Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches
Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with
Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like Diga,
Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens
Fuck the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine
I fly more heads than Continental
Wreck ya 5 times like US AIR off an instrumental
Look I m not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
I breaks em up proppa
Ask Biggie Smalls Who Shot Ya
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like Rickle
To make your mind tickle
For the nine nickle
[Yo Red, yo Red!]
Punk ass pussy ass
[You ain t gotta say no more man, that s it]
Word up Tical, We Out
[IT S OVER]