Method Man

[fox69]

"Say"
(feat. Lauryn Hill)

"Say"
(feat. 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]

 

[fox69]

"Say What"
(feat. Missy Elliott, P. Diddy)

"Say What"
(feat. Missy Elliott, P. Diddy)



[Intro: Missy Elliott (Method Man)]
Yeah!
This-this-this-this
This is an exclusive (let's go)
Mr. Meth, you're so Def, you put them other M.C.'s out to rest (that's right)
And they test (uh-huh), but they forget (yeah) how the M-E-F is so Def (let's go)

[Method Man]
Yo, uh, come on, come on, now
Big Meth attack soon as the track come on now
Zone out, with Sean Combs and bizzy-bone out (I see you in the club)
And by one, I'm gettin' thrown out
Mami, got her toes out, ain't one army can Blaze Johnny
Like Gwen Stafani, you know there's No Doubt
I'm trill, sick with it, it's like ill
That's the only way to explain these mic skills
On Homicide Hill, anybody asks is real
The more steel, the more bodybags to fill
Can I get, hit of that hydro, nigga
I tried to quit puffin' before, but I'm no quitter
If honey show me her buns, I'll show her my ones
If the bed rockin', keep knockin' and I'mma cum
Want some, take some, I get it crunk
Speak junk, I'll slow up your road with speed bumps

[Chorus: Missy Elliott w/ P. Diddy doing ad-libs]
When they play this in the club (say what?)
Go and tell that nigga, bump that (say what?)
Throw your hands up, like nigga, what? (say what?)
Ya'll don't really really want that (say what?)
And for whatever muthafucka, don't like it (say what?)
Tell that sucka he can get back (say what?)
Misdemeanor and Meth in your area (say what?)
Are ya'll ready? Come on, play it back (saw what?)

[Method Man]
You wanna front, what? Step up and get bucked
And if your feelin' lucky, duck, then press ya'll luck
Ya'll got me effed up, over tracks overreact
Once I start, like a bullet, ain't no holdin' me back
I'm all that and two mac's, ya'll fakin' jacks
When I cock back like Busta Bust and make 'em clap
Here I go again, who blow in like whirlwinds
Who kiss girlfriends, that kiss they girlfriends
Got to get it, and when I'm gone
Ya'll bury me with chrome, and tell hell I'm comin' home
I'm poison, see my skull and crossbones
Got aim like them kids in Iraq who toss stones
And I got drugs in my system, we thugs in the system
That put slugs in victims, Mr. M-E to F, bomb threat
As long as I ain't no game, there's no contest

[Chorus]

[Method Man]
Ticallion is phatter than your fattest chrome chain
I guess that should explain why I given the dope name
Ain't nothin' free, everything got a fee
How the fuck you got a car and ain't got a pot to pee?
I'ma grown man, so I do grown man things
Why take half, when I can have this whole damn thing?
It's Meth, baby, drop top, navy Mercedes
I'm number one like P.E. or Tracy McGrady
It's all good, everything I spit, all hood
And if ya'll gave me one wish, niggaz, I wish ya'll would
Who John Blaze? Uh, when ya'll gon' learn huh
When I burn son, stick a fork in him he's done
And ladies love to play, like Ladies Love Cool J
For the right CREAM, the'll do anything you say
She Ice Cream, I'm caked up with icing
Mr. Sandman, come on, bring her a pipe dream

[Chorus]

[Outro: P. Diddy]
Let's work... come on
Def Jam! Mr. Meth, Missy, Bad Boy
Hitmen baby, let's work, come on
Let's work, come on, yeah
Uh, let's work... aiyo pass that nigga
Joe Hooker, I see you, let's work, yeah

 

[fox69]

"Se Acabo (Remix)"

"Se Acabo (Remix)"


[Method Man]
Beatnuts, Mista Mef, you know how we do

"Se Acabo"

[Ju Ju]
Free drinks on the house, word
Everybody drinkin tonight
(WHAT DA DEALLY?)
Por ahi viene el perro, por ahi viene
Cae la gorda por...
Yo check it out
Swing a bat on you like the devil himself
Put it on us, sickness or health
Makin you could only breathe wit help
I ain't playin, you don't wanna hear what you sayin yourself
Hit the street wit incredible beats
We reknowned for tearin it down
Never have you heard a similar sound
Like a drop off when shit pop off, feel a hot one
Side scorching from a hot gun
Niggas get lost in the buildings wit money and the children
Not the type to talk too much and catch feelin
Dominican flag over the bed on the ceiling
Protect everything I rep, that's the first thing
Many things follow, bullet stay hollow
You actin like we don't chew, you can't swallow
Niggas try to change my plans, I'ma beat you till I break my hands
Ju the German every place I stand ("Se Acabo")

[Method Man]
All day everyday ("Se Acabo") mothafuckers!
Step up front! What's goin on?

[Psycho Les]
Aiyyo it's Big Psych, baby you don't want no problems
Suckers want war, then yo bomb em
Bring the heat, squeeze the flame torch
Then peel out in a convertible gray Porsche
I'm three miles ahead of you, I took the plates off
Just in case your snitch wanna get paid off
Pull out the chainsaw, it's A Musical Massacre
Cut the head off the driver and the passenger
Sic my dogs after ya, have you climbin a tree
Just another crime in the street
Ain't nuttin better than findin a beat
So if you find that and try to blow my spot up
("You!") Get shot up "Se Acabo"
Means "It's Over" bro, Method Man on the remix, it's over yo
"Se Acabo" Beatnuts flip the beat, it's over yo

"It's a Beatnuts thing, yo you know how that go" [O.C.]

[Method Man]
What kind of Beatnut am I? Spanish Fly, P-O-P-P-I
(Who got the live special guest for the night?)
Excuse me as I kiss the sky
Yo one on one through the nasal
To put food on the table, I Rush Associated Labels
Huh, ready, willing and able to rock cradle
And rock steady, when I get the drop I drop heavy
Twist the metal, mask the machette
The god don't want beef, he want veggie
Plus signs over Deadly Medley
Who got em gassed on his own Getty
Battery back, he Eveready
Now what's fuckin wit that ha?
Not you, you chocha
I fuck wit Beatnuts, Livin La Vida Loca!
Callate la boca, see the Spanish Fly on the sofa
One word, he slap you wit the toaster
Keep it in the holster on safety
Put yourself in timeout, playin wit this dough, let me find out
You ain't hard to find though, barrel on your tonsils
Sigan hablando y siga mamando
"Se Acabo" "Se Acabo"
All day everyday "Se Acabo" No doubt
What the fuck's goin on? Worldwide!
(Beatnuts)Write your own rhymes "Se Acabo"
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah "Se Acabo"
All you punk niggas walk it off, "Se Acabo" wordup
We ain't playin over here yamean "Se Acabo"

 

[fox69]

"Shaolin What?!?"

"Shaolin What?!?"


[Method Man]
I'm the bastard the total package like Lex Luger
Pull a sting like a yellow jacket makin manuevers
through the slums nigga Iron Lung ladies and gentlemen
Welcome to my torture chamber pen and pendulum
Foul play year T2000 be judgement day
Face millenium hell to pay
My knuckles soft from the star wars of han solo
South paw ring your bell like its quasimodo what is the law?
Stay hardcore my clan logo move to quik to catch a photo
Jettin on land like jet moto now we lord on the conduit?
These niggaz actin like they been through it
As if the hardcore to the truest
I Can't Lose like Parker Lewis
Set in my ways..
got you corny niggaz askin who is .. JOHNNY BLAZE
Get a late pass stinkin ass sucker ass
Now you sufferin like succotash
while Johnny Cash is makin moves on your moneybags
im strict love stickin hundreds in your honeys ass
my verbal bucket in the background
holdin me down watching these clowns
as they eyeballin all day in the mind
Gettin high y'all
Put it on the skyfold the nite troll
Rap infected get the LYSOL to disinfect it
You don't know me or my fuckin Method
That's the shit that made me tip
when I wrote a pitch how many leech it
Stapleton, the Wild West Park Hill
Now Borne jungle nils one more game hit me with
that shit they be smokin..
got cali niggaz loc'in new york niggaz open
John Hay phenomenon the megabomb
Transformed in a firearm like Megatron
Youget stepped on and shit upon, I'ma stay calm
knowin brothers wanna do me harm
Shaolin whylen what .. punks

[breaking glass]
we got love for those who got love for us

 

[fox69]

"Simmons Incorporated"

"Simmons Incorporated"


[Intro: Dig Dast (Jamel Simmons) {Gold D}]
Yo my nigga Jamel Simmons what the deal nigga?
(Gold D, Dig Dast what's goin down, what's goin down)
{Aight, what's goin on, what's goin on
What's the deal pa, where you headed son?}
(Yo I'm bout to go to the studio and lay smash hit
Wit my Uncle Run, boy)
{Word?} Ain't he a Reverend now, collectin plates
At churches and shit?
(He's spittin flames right now baby
He at the top of his game, right now
I'm tellin, I'm show you, watch
Youknowhatimean? He's a born again, hooligan)
Uh-huh

[Jamel Simmons]
I'm red rum, Reverend Run, brother son, earthquakin
Industry shakin, you kiddin me? We money makin
Your money fake son, I'll call you clay cuz you get's Play-Doh
Jamel and Joey Simmons holdin millions on the lay low
Platinum hailos, hero heads high from hydro
Hit the dime on the combo, she try to diss my rhyme flow
She ain't know we only glamorous like Phat Farm fashion
Simmons name sinamous wit this cash
It's our passion... what!?

[Run]
Yo basically I'm here to rename rap, it ain't rap no more
Call it Simmons Incorporated, since '74
Lotta money in this fam, think about it
Me wit Run-D.M.C., and him over at Def Jam
Well damn, how the hell you think we livin?
How you think it feel to be a Simmons
Imagine Christmas and Thanksgiving
People wanna know why I ain't on my brother's label
If I did this whole rap game be unstable
Went over to Arista wit Mr. Davis, for the change of neighbors
It's only fair that we share those naked papers
You can tell a cat serious about rap and it ain't luck
If 20 years after his first single, his name's stuck
From '74 to '99, did novice to king, wit a million
MC's waitin in line
Keep a barrel on this album if my man's and them rise

[Method Man]
Now speed it up, uh

[Chorus 2X: Run]
Run really make ya wanna drop, drop
Now wanna make ya go live, live
Now wanna make ya go live, live
Now hold up

[Method Man]
Now I walked on ice and never fell
I spent my time in a plush hotel
John-John Phenomenon, deadly but calm
Word to my born, dead by dawn
Got the right to bear arm, ring the alarm!
Another sound boy dyin, hot irons
Slugs flyin out the hardware appliance
Baby mamma cryin, sobbin and grievin
You was at aws wit them kids till they made it even
Let down ya guard, yes you did, now you barely breathin
To unaware, open season on a duck, we don't give a what
Yo best best to give it up
Sho indeed, let's Run D's MC's, they phony
Some hump free, they mad bogey
Saddle up ya horse, if the sunset mosey
Jam Master Jay deserve a trophy for this track, right?
Futuristic G past type, if that's yo girlfriend
She wasn't last night punk, little boy
Stylin mad chump, ain't no wins here
This sport's extreme, know what I mean?
Gettin royalty, +Down With the King+!!!

[D.M.C.]
Crack, crack, cracks in the cradle
Cracks, in the cradle
Cracks in the cradle, cokes in the spoon
Little Boy Blue higher than the moon
Will he, will he want a weapons, will he wanted the wound
I come to school and lay down the rules
Two, two, two channel empty guzzle, brake gallons of drop
Shorty wit the forty, once sport in the dark
Co-co-corner, black as a goner
Didn't really wanna call my momma in Savannah

[Mike Ransom]
I spit dynamite ignite turn off lights
Recite, spit poetry type, get my squad physically hype
Get a hundred blast from Funkmaster, crush ya life
+Blast+ Time to go now, show these fake rappers the way to go down
Down With The Kings, like Smokey down wit Motown
Who wanna come and see, come and test me
Take about a million MC's to wet me
For Run-D.M.C. I let shells fly, freein the five
Wit the red eye, niggas talkin to much
Tape 'em up, leave 'em hog tied

[Kenny Cash]
You thinkin about it way to hard, how to get down wit the Gods
Kenny Cash, the Bronx cat, but it'll ride wit gats
Peep chicks huggin the sacks, yours scratchin the back
I'mma shark in a shack, y'all cats is feedin the fish
Now hate and feed wit clips, nigga that leave you ripped
And I'm leavin 'em dry, shit's crushed wit bleadin lips
Bet I, leave these chips, and a C.L.K.
After I hang plaques in the spot wit Run, D and Jay

[Chorus 4X]

 

[fox69]

"Simon Says Remix"

"Simon Says Remix"


[Pharoahe Monch]
GET THE FUCK UP!
Simon says "GET THE FUCK UP!"
Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!)
Queens is in the back sippin 'Gnac, y'all wassup?
Girls, rub on your titties (yeah)
Yeah fuck it I said it rub on ya titties
New York City gritty committee, pity the fool that act shitty
In the midst of the calm, the witty

[Lady Luck]
Yo SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Luck said "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Bitches in the back, like crack get it cut up
I speak on behalf of them broads you call stuck up
Act like a man and get cocked, smacked or fucked up
Pull the truck up, Luck you know the name
Assed out in the bleachers stay shittin on the game
I suppose what you're spittin is flames, cowards
Know your crew was vaginal, I could smell the dooch powder
Summer's Eve, I drop degrees chill
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly till you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that's real

[Pharoahe Monch]
WHAT THE FUCK'S goin on here, just a minute now, hold up
Sinister wit hit the time I diminish him finish him, roll up
When I'm, ? cinematography state of mind
My rap trip, rip, clip, say the rhyme
Shit, I spectacular run hit spit bitches venacular
Miraculous rhyme flow, back track to the Immaculate
Binaca blast nigga that's fast, son I'll box ya
Ladies rub the ta-ta's, bras, titties and knockers on the floor
OWWW! Fellas pull ya cock out
On the verge to splurge verbs for third round knock out
Uh I bust a rhyme that dust frustrated rappers
Dust crush competition, lights out like the Clapper
The mic ripper, whip a nigga like a slave
Separate him from him from his fam, he don't know how to behave
Now, drag his ass, bag dun for his loot
Figure me to give a nigger-y twenty-one gun salute
That's seven shots for Tupac
Seven for Biggie Smalls
Seven for Freaky Tah up in your neighborhood malls
How's that, fat action packed rap remain tame
Pharoahe fuckin Monch, ain't a damn thing changed

[Redman]
Yo yo get the fuck up
Funk Doctor Spot said "Get the fuck up"
I got a bitch named Nina and I tuck her
I leave a nigga hangin like ya mom's muffler
Snuff her, then my boys follow up
Respect like the Fonze, you see the collar up
I spit out a bullet, load the barrel up
I kamikaze ya town off a Arab bus
Karat cut, yeah mami pull over
I bend ya pussy like for years I knew yoga
I'm too smoked up, I can't remember me
Off Hennesy, that's why I carry Mini-Me
I need fifty feet when my performance starts
I push a armored car wit ?Lauren Harts?
Nineteen inches, I'm not on the charts
Doc turnin dark off a warning shot
Drive off and pop, six in ya hood
[Monch] Fuck the limelight, we rhyme tight, plus snatch the goods
Yea-yeah my nigga, one rhyme you fold over
I'm hot-headed cuz I walk wit cold shoulders
Yeah GET THE FUCK UP!

[Pharoahe Monch]
Simon Says "GET THE FUCK UP!"
Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!)

[Redman]
Jersey in the back jackin cars now wassup!
Girls, rub on ya titties
(Yeah) That's right I said it, rub on ya titties
Brick City gritty committee
Pity the fool that act shitty, in the midst of the calm, the witty

[Method Man]
Yo yo get the fuck up
Yo yeah I said it, get the fuck up
Walk through Shaolin after dark, you get stuck up
Seek and destroy, baddest boy when I'm puffed up
Ya know my name, and Pharoahe Moch, why we came what?
We off the chain, plus we plottin on the chain, what?
Know ya role, by the way tuck ya gold
And you and your mic ? on down the road
Assholes are like opinions, everybody got to have one
Shootin in the sky tryin to blast sun
Zero to sixty in a second, pull a fast one
Fifty cent flashin they hate us wit a passion
Mashin, still fresh in three-day old fashion
Your plaid, I'm stripes, together we be flashin
Here's a Tunnel banger
Wu-Tang death penalty, the gas chamber
This gon' hurt me more than it hurts you
Slap ya like the doctor the day your momma birthed you
Just so you can feel me
The same way I'ma feel this world when it kill me
Even if time stands still, I'ma still be
Underground and filthy, gotta have our Way like the Milky
Innocent until I'm proven guilty
Never got caught in the game of tag
Momma never kept a boyfriend wit kids this bad
No justice, RAIDER RUCKUS!
Underground till we under ground
But y'all first MOTHAFUCKERS!

[Shabaam Sahdeeq]
My thugs, throw up ya set
And shorties rub on ya breasts
GET THE FUCK UP, outta that dress, I palm tits
You herbs get flipped like jeeps on mountain cliffs
I'll rip through your chest, hollow-point talent tips
Double-S, double the threat, double your bet
Double up on that cash if you decide to invest
You sound like Big, you sound like Jay, you sound like D
And I bet, when I go plat, you'll sound like me
Shabaam Sahdeeq, injure your fleet into delete
Y'all crabs are weak, frail like a fiend's physique
I stay on the street, stay on the beat, stay wit the heat
Stay stickin fools like you for the rocks that gleam
So toss that link, dummy, shoulda insured that link
Straight to Canal I'll praise that link, then pawn that link
You froze up, Sahdeeq says "Shut the fuck up!"
Punk niggas get gun-butt up and tied up

[Busta Rhymes]
Busta Rhymes is like Hacksaw Jim Dugan
Been thuggin, lovin the way we flood jewels for nothin
Lay it over, another ambush we take over
Yo we don't only get money, we cut the coke and cook the shake over
You better guard your head right, especially if it's late at night
Or find your picture of your autoposy up on the web site
Yo if you ever violate my space
Fuck a fat lip, I'll leave you wit a fuckin fat face
Nigga, Busta Rhymes the handsome, I'll hold you for ransom ansom
Like the ghost in a haunted house, I'll forever live in a mansion
Bitches, snitches comin out and you know who's showin it
Like when British civil servants pass secrets to the Soviets
Y'all niggas is seemless blends of seemless friends
Live on about ? ? on a bunch of seamless ends
Collosal, me and my nigga Pharoahe Moncho
The head honcho, gettin this money like Leonardo (do do do)
Enough substance in the roughness
Now watch it come around in an amazing large abundance
Now let me clear the smoke screen you blow fiend
Live nigga shit that'll rebuild your whole self-esteem
Pledge allegiance to the flag of united live niggas of America
Let us control and own the fuckin area
Wildin in your whip until your crash the whole truck up
And if ? get to you nigga you better GET THE FUCK UP!!!
Hehehe

 

[fox69]

"Smooth Sailing (Remix)"
(feat. Streetlife, Solomon Childs)

"Smooth Sailing (Remix)"
(feat. Streetlife, Solomon Childs)



[Ghostface Killah:]
Yo, behind those mahogany walls
Indoor pools with steel doors, flipping eggs over in my silk drawers
While I"m charging my cell, sparking the L
Baby mother reading my mail, just that they switched seats
To another jail, and his banger is old fire
He's locked up with them dudes from the fucking Wire
That's when I passed her the bone, started to cough
And flossed all through the house, robe on, ruger out
Homebuyers see the sign, yeah ya'll, I'm moving out
In front of the crib, niggas flipped, I had to shoot it out
Thirty G, living room sets, porcelain plates
With big giant wall units, even the front grass
Saw your boy doing it, Tone Stark he'll never fall
I even put work in, under the floor
In the box with the ox, and my skeleton jaw
Tell 'em soldiers I'm in the bush if the President call

[Chorus: Solomon Childs]
Get 'em, the'll be nothing but smooth sailing
When the heat shot, now your crew's bailing
I refuse to bow down, refuse to lay down
Go five and turn, to let the biz, all I found

[Method Man:]
Man I thought we told ya'll niggas before, Wu-Tang is for the children
P.O.'s violate your dirty urine
These dealers in the lobby of my building, ice grilling
I don't catch cold to catch feelings
I put in that work, then catch millions
If that don't work, back to stealing
Snatch me a purse, and stack real in
Meth, I'm that dealing, millionaire, slash chameleon
I mastered the juks, one of my niggas "Masta, killing"
Spray shots, clap civilians at the dealing table
Off of the love of crack dealing
Once again the fatal, flying guillotine, the millions
Paper rob me able, my woman is all pre-matul
I got mouths to feed, nigga, and I'm the hand that rocks the cradle
Just like Hova, but I ain't trying to 'roc' the label
I'm a soldier, I stay on job, me, eye a coka
Honey's wanna fuck and the industry fucks 'em over

[Chorus]

[Streetlife:]
I got my Ghostface on, cause I'm a Killah
I live the Streetlife, why, I'm that nigga
Label me a beast, call me U-Godzilla
When I rumble in the jungle, I go gorilla
Step on the set, Inspectah Deck you
Dead in your face, straight RZArect you
You highly mistaken, I'm hotter than Satan
Catch me in the kitchen with blood on Chef apron
I'm known to, Cap a Don, big gun in my palm
I'm like my arm is gone, plus I Masta the Kill
Give you something, you can really feel
Got many Methods to kill a Man, if it's real, you real
The world's worse like Dirt McGirt
Fuck a bitch raw dog, then dig in her purse
Yeah that boy's a Genius, I stay fresh like I'm straight out the cleaners
I walk hard like a criminal, holding my penis

[Chorus]

 

[fox69]

"Snuffed Out (Skit)"
(feat. Streetlife)

"Snuffed Out (Skit)"
(feat. Streetlife)



Word, yo, I loved you to death nigga
Word.. it's like til death do us part
Dedicated
Peace nigga now we must part kid
Yeah, fuck it, whateva

We used to be tight, now it's shoot on sight
Takin the ghetto right, slidin in your wife on a rainy night
Low budget nigga wanna act like, yousa killa in the spotlight
But never lived the life?
Throw the grilla in your mouthpiece, rock you to sleep
Fuckin wit street, you better travel wit heat, speakin my piece
You survived my attempt to homicide
Tried to slide and lit five rounds but hit the building side
This is how it's goin down, ain't no peace until you're gone
Play around, with your life playa you won't live long
Probably got a vest on, but your thoughts react like a young pawn
That's when I swarm on your street dreams you mor-on
Carry on, forty lead dons went through your teflon
I remained calm, even though you straight passed through my left arm
I never fold I reload, keep my clip full mode
Empty out six slick, to bloody up your wardrobe
Plus that click you run with, I heard y'all niggaz rub dicks
Greet niggaz with a french kiss, some real fag shit
Seen the bitch in you, from the first day you came through
Saw the size of my crew, and started actin brand new
That bullshit you pulled, you gon' pay too
You went bubblin blue, it's dead on the avenue
I bailed you out, passed off a key to the stash house
So you could lay low, from your p.o., before you mashed out
Then you went the wrong route, that's why I threw my dick
In your girl's mouth
Get snuffed the fuck out, walk witcha guns out

I'll see you nigga!
Yeah, see you!

See you!

 

[fox69]

"So Staten"
(feat. Hanz On, Hue Hef)

"So Staten"
(feat. Hanz On, Hue Hef)



[Verse 1 - Method Man:]
Yo, I’ve been Staten Island since ’85
My thing was rapping, ain’t get a package ’til ’89
That trick jacket, that bomber cracking that baby 9
That drug traffic, sell to your mama and maybe mine
I’m so Staten, no need to smack em, no need to shine
You and them divas is margaritas
You need the lime
Follow the leaders, Optimus Prime, follow the heater
This just in, I’m a little twisted, you non-believers
Richmond county, we get it lit
The tooly just a part of the movie, you get a clip
It ain’t all Gucci, Louis Vuitton, I’m Louis the fifth
That’s a V, if this was Sesame street, V is for Vic
I mean victim, stick him, ha ha ha stick him
Resisting, I’ll get ya the 16 I’m spittin’
My borough different cause we thorough, efficient
Donald Sterling on clipping, I’ll rock your world in addition

[Chorus – Hue Hef:]
I’m so Staten Island
You already know how we bang
I’m so Staten Island
Niggas don’t wanna fuck with my gang
Cause my niggas riding and your niggas hiding
Everybody talking, I’m stepping with the iron
That nigga faded, when I start firing
Everybody running, welcome to the island
I’m from SI

[Verse 2 - Hanz On:]
Walk light dead wrong when you cross that bridge
I got the park hill shooters, barracudas, you dig?
Bout 100 on ya fitted, Staten Island, we back
I said we back for this music and the mission is rap
Coalitions, yo they technicians, hammers is locked
Yo they loaded when they fire, you can hear it for blocks
Hands on nothing pretty, yo my city be New Yiddy
We are from crack sales, dumb travel with them semi’s
Got the coke cooking stashes in the ceiling
In fact, see if it’s wires on em so that all these killers relax
Don’t move, hypothetically you better not blink
Meth Lab, Staten Island, fuck with all of y’all day

[Chorus – Hue Hef:]
I’m so Staten Island
You already know how we bang
I’m so Staten Island
Niggas don’t wanna fuck with my gang
Cause my niggas riding and your niggas hiding
Everybody talking, I’m stepping with the iron
That nigga faded, when I start firing
Everybody running, welcome to the island
I’m from SI

[Verse 3 - Hue Hef:]
I wish you niggas tried to play the god
You gon’ fuck around and be my latest charge
Roll up and I smoke you just like an entourage
And you already know how I do it, I’m going twice as hard
I’m cooking up in that meth lab
Ready for distribution, it’s in the bag
My niggas different, we got hella swag
Trend setters made vendettas, ya hatin’ ass
I’m feeling like Meth in nine 2
His single bout to drop and I’m the livest in the crew
Hollywood from that 1-6-Ooh
And I’m going to the top with my dudes
Give a fuck if them niggas hatin', i’ll handle that situation
I’ll pick it up on my waist and i’ll blam at them niggas faces
Feeling like Tigger, end your career in that basement
Niggas moving fouler than a flagrant

[Chorus – Hue Hef:]
I’m so Staten Island
You already know how we bang
I’m so Staten Island
Niggas don’t wanna fuck with my gang
Cause my niggas riding and your niggas hiding
Everybody talking, I’m stepping with the iron
That nigga faded, when I start firing
Everybody running, welcome to the island
I’m from SI

 

[fox69]

"Somebody Done Fucked Up"

"Somebody Done Fucked Up"


[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...