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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Meth]
Come on 1 2 1 2 uh uh 1 2 1 2 Mr. Meth, Funk Doc 1 2 1 2 Uh uh 1 2 1 2 DJ Scratch on the track 1 2 1 2 Wa wa 1 2 1 2 Break your motha fuckin back 1 2 1 2 Ah yo yo My, lyric is 8 ball Batter up play ball Fuck yawl and the law Niggas we be digital, subliminal, come in From the 5 star general Attack you from the blind side, invisible To the naked eye Where them criminals Better have your 8 essential vitamins and minerals The wu is coming through you know the outcome Critical Condition in your physical for injurin The officer and gentleman who stack by the benjamen [Redman] Off a beat like this I keep a night stick In case any stick up care where heat might miss I chicken fry rice bitch In a white trench Bustin off two macks I'm like "I'm hit"!!! I'm just playin, I clear the croud out Like a peppa can sprayin I throw lightin out the arms raiden Go guard your pray Next year I do nothin more than Y2K {Hook} We say Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 We say Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 we say Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 We say Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 And if you say fuck me [Meth] I'm a say fuck you [Redman] Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 [Meth] From deputant down to stripper I'm too nonchalaunt A drink mixed with four kinds of liquors Catch me at the bar "Fu Bar" Ladies know who we are and Dream of fuckin a star Who da scrub Shotgun in this man car Burnin up Forever gettin thrown out the club It be us Paul Shot out and bugged I smoke bud, sniff a bee's ass to get a buzz I'm everything you think you don't know [Redman] I throw a 5 in the power Poppa wheely with the front end hittin speed bumps, 40 miles per hour I'm out at Howard, next to Baltimore Takin change out the fountains at shoppin malls Rats can only afford Chuck E Cheese The blood in my jeans is tough like Buddy Lee Semi-dart auto off ya, blood coughin Meth pull the last spark plug with a heart pump {Hook} [Redman] Call me will, enemy I state When 4 Doc run the scam New jacks studderin, that the man from the upperhand Punch, atomic bomb I hit many >From Bricks to South Park you dyin with Kenny While you bailin I'm trailin Rockin hard hat helmets clip the satellite servallence When I walk by you better not be kickin Or i put two more in that terriyaki chicken [Meth] You've just been fitted for them seeman shoes This is bottom of the lake raps Stab you in the back Kung Fu 52 cops can't withstand the 52 blocks Unless they bust like 52 shots I'm the has been that have not Battle kids at Maxwell's house Know when I'm good to the last drop Whats my name Meth he's name Doc Just like urban See me in the gran transportation splurgin Drivin with a turban who push a black suburban (come on) We rollin windows half down through the urban Network law lay it down like a persian M to the E to the F, spell curtain [Redman] Get out your car sucker This ain't yours Robbed you with a gun that filled with paint balls And brauds got the nerve to act funny You a champaine ho, with kool aide money Frown bitch, Doc up in that town quick You back down a point on NFL blitz I'm lyin buddah break fool and take two And put your hole in the earth to escape through {Hook} {Talked} DJ Scratch Not ready for prime time playas Mr. Meth, Funk Doc Def Jam 2000 mutha fuckasssssss!!! (echos out) Calm me down baby Nod your head to this Come on Ey yo this is WKYA radio We kickin your motha fuckin ass Yo Flex Thats right it's goin down Redman, Method Man blackin the funk out Now listen |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]:
Bitch Brick City, yo Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young I ate paint chips, the rare moon That pair mics, my maintenance I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts For money, to your house arrest anklet I take it all, if not, here's a thousand Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men I'm constant, on that paper chase Blow zip codes from Bricks to 8-1-8 Doc serve to you liquor in the plate Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment Hit 95, then hide with the Waltons Down South, the forty four feela I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga Westside highway running, homo nigga [LL Cool J]: I'm the sultan of the ghetto The homicidal aficionado I empty niggas out like Crystal bottles, uh When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers I knew my longevity confuse ya Big paper game, come on run into these flames Recognize the power of the royal King James Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces Like they drinkin' Guinness when they realize I'm not finished I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin' Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin' Platinum links, chicky eyed blonde hair, Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink Bend your little wifey over, help her stretch out the kinks That's why ya nigga freeze when I step up in the building The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Y.O.U [single] (2000) | |||||
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4:11 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]:
Do you want to get high man? [Method Man]: I see em. Does Pinochio have wooden balls man? [Redman]: Well yo, I got a joint I've been saving here for a special occasion. [Method Man]: Ahh, niggas, bitches, welcome. A full tank of gas, a pound of weed, a bird called Pinky. To the East, driver to the East. Funk Doctor and the Phino. By the way, this is protected by the red, the track, and Tical. With the key. [Redman]: Oh shit where the keys at? |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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3:44 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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3:48 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - A-Yo [single] (2009) | |||||
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3:36 |
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| from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001) | |||||
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3:28 |
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| from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001) | |||||
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]
Def Squad, Wu Tang [laugh] (check it, check it out) [Verse 1: Method Man, (Redman in brackets)] (Yo yo Method Man, yo yo Iron Lungs) (Call us gorillas in the myst) (Raunchy vocalist) Your code name (Doc) (Whats yo' name) Hot Nix Who them slick kids puffin that shit holdin they dicks (Yo them same two drivin yo whip fuckin yo bitch) Hold me down son (Yo, I hold you down with the pound) You got a lot of buiscits (Ayo but where they at now?) Diggy down yo we resevior dogs, you puppy chow-chow Got my mittens on the kitten, lickin it now-now (Yo we bring the beef to you, infest it with the mad cow) Disease (We set to load) Cock and squeeze (Booya!) We too hard to hold off (One arm slam ya like Nicoli Volkov) When i dip dip dappa (dappa) The anti-socializa (liza) Everything be ice cream from _?_ (We rock ya, knock ya fuckin whole team off the roster) (Starting lineup, Iron Lung) The funk docta [Verse 2: Method Man] Johnny blaze the ghost rider (uh) Ghost stories by the campfire (uh) The night breed (vampire!) Duckin from the head rushin (uh) Wu Tang production Precussions bringin reprecussions I hold my mike sideways bustin (bustin) Another one bites the dust and Cardiac arrest Clutchin your chest suckin your last breath In awe, period meth Nigga, dyin from papercuts, Bleedin to death Down these mean streets johnny quest (uh) From ASCAP to NASDAQ Get that money sack (uh) These habitats aint no place to raise family at (family at) These alley cats be at war with these dirty rats So watch you back when you come to the slum There aint nowhere to run from the iron lizard lung Blazes on stunts I be dippin in the sun My plates bear no one My uzi weighs a ton (Word up) [Verse 3: Redman] Pon Cocked The don juan doc Send crews back to the shoe shine box Connect the dots My description Black mel Yellow da mellow I make it hard for mc's to run neck and elbow With d-o Penal code We both to duck when he hear the bike Wit the squeaky clutch Swallow this hard act to follow You could parachute off my slang and use my rhymes to toggle I'm tense, so smooth i cant be fingerprinted I stomp harder in slow motion Yo fuck your appluad Bitches still rush me like they rushed the store Before the soul train award Incorporate a law Whoever aint raw get they hand chopped By jamal with the wu sword (whoo-ee!) My crew specializin Snakin yo bitch Robbin you while you on the floor Shakin your shit I'm doin me now i'll do you (Yo who you?) Doc I bomb shit through the conflicts crucial I be da black el nino I mean yo I'm supreme like the team show With the pay to cream fo (To see you sit down?) Yo, na we get the fuck up (And leave the one you wit) Then take off of usher Thats right, six double oh with chrome pipes U.S. marshals out to pen us up like Snipes (Throw it in drive) Fuck takin me and meth alive! (Yo, you look that-a-way) You look out the other side! |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]
It's Funk Doc Where da weed at, bitch?! I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit! Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for t.v. Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to Project-ballers You yell: "Turn the heat down!" My voice, divi-di-round-sound, some heard round town And chances are ya'll leavin', round now Wait later, will make Funk page paper Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders Hit the High School at 187 Caesar When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off? I'm from the underground, my soundlib Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds! [Chorus:] [Meth & Red] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT! Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE OUT, EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL FEEL IT! Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM [Meth] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin' Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN'? My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-scorchin', but stone cold like Steve Austin If you smell what Tical cookin', ain't tryin' to see central bookin' So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last summer? So I started hookin', you past shookin' Offer open can of ass-whoopin'? Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop Of Horrors Go ask your father who the father from the (Park)Hill to (Mariners)Harbor You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and Goldschlager With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon and Reggie Don't even bother, to radio for back-up Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for his icin' Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...! Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a bone Straight from the Catacombs The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue Prepare for desert storm! [Chorus] I scored 1.1 on my SAT And still push a whip with a right and left AC Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars Spit poison, got a gun permit draw Gundown at Sundown you keep score! This training-course and ya'll ain't fit On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit' [Meth] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you learn? Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s The most slept on since Rip Van Wink My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one drink? You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe Go get a shrink... [Chorus] |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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2:34 |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009)
<i>[Intro: Redman (Method Man) {stage people}]</i>
D.C. make some God damn noise {You got, you got Meth mic, right?} {We can only fix one mic at a time} {Ok, he got Meth, mic?} (Ladies and gentlemen, we'd like to welcome you) (To the Redman & Method Man show) Yes sir, yes sir <i>[Redman]</i> Yo, when you see smoke in the air Two hot boys that put coke in your ear Fuck pimp, I wanna get dope of the year Til I die and I smoke with a lear Boost my career, and bare arms heavy What you trynna get, I was there already Yeah, I'm a wise ass, take one to know one Asshole Academy, yeah I'm the spokesman Talk that greasy, on the north TV Even pigs love the Boss Hog CD What you find hard, I do it easy I can see why the next guy wanna be me Yeah, I'm a problem, ya'll can't solve 'em Straight up bitch like Cartman mama Keep a 'brown fox' like the 'ill na na' B.O. 2, bitch, we bring the drama <i>[Chorus: Redman]</i> How the fuck ya'll feeling tonight? How the fuck ya'll feeling tonight? For real <i>[Method Man]</i> Yup, I think my mind playing tricks on me I hold the weight like my name set the smith on me It's Meth & Doc, nigga, back on that, homey Back on the strip, how many women wanna strip for me? This nigga spit, don't he? My flow is heavy As Katrina when she broke the levy's, real as they get, whoadie Ya'll better get to know me, I'm top notch Got a thing for the top spot, too hot for you to hold me When niggas ugly you gotta cut me a dime Little Asian honey is funny, she love me long time Get this money, if you don't mind, got money on my mind Cuz I'm hungry, never dummy, the sun forever shine, nigga If you rolling with us, then throw your hands up We need Bricks and Staten Island to stand up Here's your chance, my niggas, go 'head and man up Blunt Brothers, see we at a level they can't touch <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Redman (Method Man) {both}]</i> Yo, Redman (Method Man) back in the building (We can ship gold) fuck one million (Underground rap) That's what you hearing {Middle finger up like fuck ya'll feelings} {Yeah, yeah, fuck ya'll feelings} That's how it sound when them boys be wheeling {Yeah, yeah, fuck ya'll feelings} (Niggas can't eat, then it's back to robbing and stealing) Give it up, nigga! |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
Yeah, yeah..
Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill (I'm going to kill [echoes]) [Verse One: Method Man] Slowly I turn, step by step Through the backwindow, I crept Silent as a mouse on a set While everybody in the house slept, I disconnect the phones and the rest Find a butcherknife Cut the power lines to the lights Now a nigga wild for the night I come like the living death, straight from the dirt Back to avenge his own death on this earth Ever heard of Jason, then you know my work Down to the basement, the dog get it first I can't help myself, my thoughts ain't my own The voices in my head just won't leave me alone Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill Pissing on the car seats, flattenin' the wheels So there's no escape from the fate that awaits No one to witness the horror taking place Yeah, now I'm on my way up the stairs To the bedroom on my prey unaware Heads will be hung from the chimney with care With hopes that the police soon will be here I'm a killer! [Verse Two: Redman] Yo, yo Fuck knocking, kick the door, evict the four Yell out: "It's a stickup, hit the floor!" You fish cake niggas, stay Lipton off Did your mama name you, or Mrs. Paul's Battle in session, what's up with it? I talk like I walk with a fucked up pivot Niggas scream out: "It's just us bitches!" Don't shoot, out the phonebooth I aim at your party, hit the wrong group "Happy birth..." ow, ow, ow, ow Niggas done snap, runnin' hunch back Ducking, brick walls, get thumbtacked So run laps, for I body you Bust out the size, like karate shoes, Doc Turn velcro, when night falls Central park joggers, wear bright clothes Tae bo, five flo's Lizard, Centipede, Snake I'm a killer! Cereal, cereal killer (This is the sound of a cow: Howl) Cereal, cereal killer [Verse Three: Redman] Yo, yo I walk on backs like Mr. Bentley, After p-p-p strips you empty Gather around, for rapid sound Fourth of July was three months ago, shoulda pad 'em down No one will fold both thumbs and eight fingers to square with Joe Young Tongue below one, spit dumb, moron For white boys to snowboard on So whatchu, whatchu, whatchu want? Chew spearmint gum two double pump Two cannons, piece by piece Your school get dazed like G by G Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill Take nuts and screws out ferris wheels If you ain't Missy, payin' no bills Body, you and supermarket, no thrills Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill (Cereal, cereal killer) [Verse Four: Method Man] Doc hold my coat, I'm 'bout to go low Titanic MC rock the boat meth Tone deaf rhyme, microphone sex line Next time don't forget the TEC-9 Step, Five digital, context is critical Bomb threat these individiuals thats on deck So you the illest nigga in Nebraska? Hell naw It's the master, number sixteen, party crasher, Flex I think too much, I drink too much My crew don't really give two fucks, about you ducks We over here Shaolin What, spontaneous combust when I smoke a bag of dust Ahh what a rush, cigar be the dutch Method Man and Redman, Starsky and Hutch I crush MC's Can't trust niggas, niggas can't trust me I'm a killer! |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]
Bricki-di-roaw! Steppin' out the crowd throwin' bolo's Flicki-di-flame, owh! when chrome .44's Loadin' it up, packin' it back, ready to splash for real Spit flows out the gail, God tried to bail It's hectic, 45-6 gimme ya grips That's more dollars in them tongues in them go-go chicks Bitch I'm drunk, pumpin' slugs out of canon Shot ya after-party down with Meth and Red in Check it, Bricks and Shaolin, NO JOKE! And when I hit the pussy call me Daddy Long Strope Or Ana, I'm hittin' pigeons out in Atlanta Banana--Split, HOT TWO..SPIT! OOH SHIT! Spickin' ya rippin' ya four or ya funds I wet ya like a 141 watergunz Cocky like Rocky, got ya scared to death! So hold on ya bitches, cuz here come RED-METH! [Chorus:] Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Fuck with me and Meth and we break ya fuckin' neck-a Rememba these?! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Rememba these?! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Rememba these?! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Rememba these?! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! [Meth] Okay the 'hey hey' baby, me and Doc about to blow My Saturday night's so special and they pointin' at yo nose Aiyyo, save the speculations and the rumours Comin' sooner then you think I knock a phat bitch outta blumors Givin' tumors, hardcore, givin' it to 'em raw Landshark, Southpaw, so kids say I jap-a-jaw One-two, no ending or beginning to my cypher I'm winning, tell the news like Peter Jennings Depending on any givin' day I'm representin' The struggle, my great grand who lived thru the linchin' Oh yes ya'll, if you got the weed, who got the blunts? Take a guess ya'll, Kool-Aid bustin' thru the wall Mr.Meth ya'll, HAH-CHU! Comment allez-vous I used to hawk chickens, now I'm maxin' with Badu I represent Wu, my uzi weighs a ton I'm swingin' a track from Staten, cuz that is where I'm from [Chorus til the end] |
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4:00 |
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| from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001) | |||||
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5:03 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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2:18 |
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from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001)
Oh my god...Oh my god !!!! ah ah ah aowww!!!
[Verse One: Method Man] Microphone checka, swingin sword lecture closin down the sectar supreme neck protector Bet I won em kid Mr. Metha warmin pot about to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV but cheesy, Too many wanna be hard be easy, is all in together going all not together it don't take much to please me Still homes are never satisfy like the stones we don't condome bitin in the sellin crossbones protectin what am writin don't clash with the Titan who blast with a liscence to kill rap presitence C'mon, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home TICAL!!(Fuck your lifestyle!!) (Blew wind)...put your lights out got the shit the crackin got you fienin with your pipes out time for some action, surfin the avenue mad at you, where I used to battle crews back when Antoinette had that attitude Cover me I'm going in, walls closin in got us bustin off these pistols my niggas got issues...again, same song armed with the mega bomb Blow you out the frame and I'm gone. [Verse Two: Redman] I was going to Buck-we-romes, cellular phones Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bone don't condone Spent bank loans and homegrown suckers break like Turbo in no zone, when I, grab the broom moon-walk platoon hawk my goons spark leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true) three nines and a glove with masu di die in the car right behind on the boss Haters don't touch, weigh us both up now my neighbor doped up got the cable hooked up. All channels lift my shirt all Mammal you ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos. sawed off shotgun hand on the pump, sippin on a forty smokin on a blunt bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaa yeah c'mon, Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaaa |
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2:19 |
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from Def Jam 25: Volume 3 - It Takes Two PT 1 (2009)
Oh my god...Oh my god !!!! ah ah ah aowww!!! [Verse One: Method Man] Microphone checka, swingin sword lecture closin down the sectar supreme neck protector Bet I won em kid Mr. Metha warmin pot about to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV but cheesy, Too many wanna be hard be easy, is all in together going all not together it don't take much to please me Still homes are never satisfy like the stones we don't condome bitin in the sellin crossbones protectin what am writin don't clash with the Titan who blast with a liscence to kill rap presitence C'mon, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home TICAL!!(Fuck your lifestyle!!) (Blew wind)...put your lights out got the shit the crackin got you fienin with your pipes out time for some action, surfin the avenue mad at you, where I used to battle crews back when Antoinette had that attitude Cover me I'm going in, walls closin in got us bustin off these pistols my niggas got issues...again, same song armed with the mega bomb Blow you out the frame and I'm gone. [Verse Two: Redman] I was going to Buck-we-romes, cellular phones Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bone don't condone Spent bank loans and homegrown suckers break like Turbo in no zone, when I, grab the broom moon-walk platoon hawk my goons spark leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true) three nines and a glove with masu di die in the car right behind on the boss Haters don't touch, weigh us both up now my neighbor doped up got the cable hooked up. All channels lift my shirt all Mammal you ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos. sawed off shotgun hand on the pump, sippin on a forty smokin on a blunt bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaa yeah c'mon, Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaaa |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
Oh my god...Oh my god !!!! ah ah ah aowww!!!
[Verse One: Method Man] Microphone checka, swingin sword lecture closin down the sectar supreme neck protector Bet I won em kid Mr. Metha warmin pot about to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV but cheesy, Too many wanna be hard be easy, is all in together going all not together it don't take much to please me Still homes are never satisfy like the stones we don't condome bitin in the sellin crossbones protectin what am writin don't clash with the Titan who blast with a liscence to kill rap presitence C'mon, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home TICAL!!(Fuck your lifestyle!!) (Blew wind)...put your lights out got the shit the crackin got you fienin with your pipes out time for some action, surfin the avenue mad at you, where I used to battle crews back when Antoinette had that attitude Cover me I'm going in, walls closin in got us bustin off these pistols my niggas got issues...again, same song armed with the mega bomb Blow you out the frame and I'm gone. [Verse Two: Redman] I was going to Buck-we-romes, cellular phones Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bone don't condone Spent bank loans and homegrown suckers break like Turbo in no zone, when I, grab the broom moon-walk platoon hawk my goons spark leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true) three nines and a glove with masu di die in the car right behind on the boss Haters don't touch, weigh us both up now my neighbor doped up got the cable hooked up. All channels lift my shirt all Mammal you ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos. sawed off shotgun hand on the pump, sippin on a forty smokin on a blunt bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaa yeah c'mon, Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaaa |
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2:34 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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4:17 |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009)
<i>[Intro: Redman (Method Man)]</i>
"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" <i>[Redman]</i> Aiyo, Meth, what's up, nigga? <i>[Method Man]</i> 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? <i>[Redman]</i> 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 <i>[Chorus: Redman (Method Man)]</i> 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" <i>[Redman]</i> 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 <i>[Method Man]</i> 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 <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Method Man]</i> 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 <i>[Redman]</i> 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 <i>[Chorus]</i> |
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4:27 |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009)
Everybody just scream!
<i>[Intro: Redman (Method Man) {Keith Murray}]</i> Gilla House, aiyo, Meth, nigga? (What up?) Aiyo, Keith Murray, nigga, pass the muthafucking weed, nigga {Meth, got that joint} (Nah, you got that shit, nigga, stop playing) You know how I do when I come in the muthafucking building, man Redman, nigga "Everybody just scream!" <i>[Redman]</i> Call your moms on the phone, it's the jam I got jet ski's that ride over land Since a young buck had fire in my hands When I was bumping "Roxanne, Roxanne" I got gin and an O.J. Rock 'friday' to 'next friday' like O'Shea Hit the west coast, six four on tray Doctor Bombay, sick flow all day I don't play fair, niggas can't see me That's why I make it do what it do, baby, yeah You want some, yeah, niggas hit the floor When I kick in the door, wave in the four four For sure, Uncle Snoop, where's the coupe? Cuz I keep a hoe fighting like New York and Hoopz Strap up your boots, move around Pick it up like engine number nine It's mine, homey, Tech, what's good? And it ain't hard to tell how I rep my hood You a beast like me, rep your hood Sign the check when I mic check, one-two <i>[Chorus: all]</i> West Coast niggas love getting it started Down South niggas love getting it started East Coast niggas love getting it started But when we in the house shit get retarded When we in the house shit get retarded When we in the house shit get retarded We came to finish what ya'll done started "Everybody just scream!" <i>[Keith Murray]</i> Aiyo, fuck your prognosis on who's the dopest You get skate like super chronic holitosis If you looking for beef, you know you gon' get it Got ya'll niggas yellin' 'callin' the cops, get the paramedics' Keith Murray, Method Man, Redman Hip hop got Barack in his B-Boy stance Like a nigga with no legs, you don't stand a chance Against the Wu-Tang, Def Squad, L.O.D. wardance One glance, watch Keith Murray hop out In a hurry, cold like a McFlurry No Mickey D's, show me the money like Jerry Maguire L.O.D. for hire, I'm ready I rep Strong Island, bums get rushed I pack house like Biggie in Notorious We warriors, who the fuck are you? I pop an E and the gun go Pikachu Niggas know how deep the crew, get at me I'm nasty, but I went from ashy to classy Got badunkadunks waving all at me Cuz I be, doing my thing and making everybody scream <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Method Man]</i> Yo, Brick City, Staten, Long Island, we back More violent on the track, black talent and a gat Bomb shit, like a nigga wilding in Iraq See the truth of the fact, niggas lying in they raps Me? I'm a diamond in the rough in the cut Like paroxide, got mine frying in the Dutch Forget about your top 5, try and top mines Take shine like I got mine ironing your guts You know I keep it fired up, fire in the hole To the game, old and tired, I be tired when I'm old I'm trying to keep it hot like the pile up in the stove While these rappers losing power putting powder in they nose Meth, Keith Murray and Redman, yo Fuck you and your mama on a headband, hoe You can call the kid a modern day Van Gogh Take the art to a place where the fake can't go My chain and my pants hang low Got my own namebrand, I'm the man made, bro Cash in advance, I'mma blow up with the dough Whoa ho ho, don't let me like slow up with flow <i>[Chorus]</i> |
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2:57 |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009)
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?) 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, 'cause 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" 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 gossiping, 'cause 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 caterpillars, let's get it "Can I get a suuuuuuuu?" "Aiyo, this bounce right here for all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight" |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Method Man]
C'mon C'mon, state your business C'mon, let's make it hot C'mon (word) let's make it hot C'mon, let's make it hot C'mon, let's make it hot (Hardcore, to make them brothers act fools) C'mon! C'mon! With all due respect to the game, I'm the P-H-enom Not ready for prime time, be-yond, extinction Change your way of thinkin, or be-gone fast the fuck out, somethin stinkin Could it be the skunk, or could it be that body in the trunk of my Lincoln, Continental style pop the pussy like a pimple I'm fed up, I put it in your ear and fuck ya head up Turnin up the temperature, hold them kids that entered the 36th, master mix shit Biohazardous, pretentious Do it for the chemically imbalanced State your business, pay me at the door Iron Man, hear me roar on twelve inches Shell shocked soldier in the trenches Fire in the hole {*rocket fire*} game commences Third string rappers play the benches Reload, there'll be no repentance for souls Just life sentence, with no chance for parole and that's real Chorus: Method Man and Redman {*rocket fire*} Fire in the hole (Yo, fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Fire in the hole {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) Fire in the hole!! Fire in the hole {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole.. (Fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Fire in the hole! {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) Fire in the hole!! Fire in the hole [Redman] Yes, yes, yes.. yo yo, yo Gundowned at sundown Run now from the bucks sound, touchdown Your crew wanna punt now? Punk BLAOW Swimmin trunks torn up from the huntdown Brakes lock em up now, a rich bitch knock em up now A plucked out eyebrow gal Naw dawg, a broad got to be a huzzy A hoodrat that ride like the "Bride of Chucky" Walk through my hood, your jewels they scream "Tug me" Mind revolve' to reload like a SCSI Doc, Da Bigfoot out for da SQUOOSH Shell shocked like I'm six months in the bush Fire in the hole! {*rocket fire*} Hikin in the snow with forty motherfuckers expirin the globe Footprints of Timbs and Wallabee soles We case the place like Barnaby Jones, homes Lay it down like plats in ya hair Ride off withcha money, then clap in the air! Chorus: Method Man and Redman {*rocket fire*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Yo, fire in the hole! {*rocket fires thrice*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) Fire in the hole!! Yo, fire in the hole! {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole.. (Yo, fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Yo, yo, yo.. [Method Man] This is for dem niggaz on Da Bricks, holdin down they block For my nigga Carlton Fisk a kid who stay up in the box Ain't no christmas -- ever since Santa scratched my name off the giftlist, shit ain't been the same since "The Pain" No forgiveness, dead man talkin bout he lifted I'm livid, hands around the throat of a critic Yo Doctor, prescribe me a drug that can knock a mule on his ass, take the blast out Binaca For real doe, Arsenic Production that kill slow Your eardrums, like a happy hooker with a dildo I spas, on anyone who show his ass I got the mob with me plus a full tank of gas [Redman] Yo yo when Me and Meth swarm, you need a net to cover you Turn the rap game into W-C-W Off the rope I hangglide to the throat Straight beef without french fries and a Coke "Doc's Da Name", da burglar, I serve ya The "Lethal 5" from Riggs and Murtoch Then SKRRRT out my whip with ran down tires with a chicken I met who hand out fliers Look, I'm an Aries, I don't have it My crew large enough to walk and cause traffic Bounce like boxsprings on your Kraftmatic Before you be suin Doc for malpractice You couldn't bang from start Your girl see you beat up and shit, get a change of heart Flaming darts is spittin, name the mark My impact tore JFK plane apart {*BOOM*} Chorus: Method Man and Redman {*rocket fire*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Fire in the hole {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) Fire in the hole!! Fire in the hole {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole.. (Fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Fire in the hole! {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) Fire in the hole!! Fire in the hole! [Method] Yo, yo, yo .. (fire in the hole) Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo Mr. Meth, ha ha Funk Doctor, ha ha Mathematics, on the track, ha, hah.. For my niggaz in Da Bricks, ha For my niggaz on Shaolin, ha Worldwide.. [Redman] To my whole crew, P-P-C!!!! Hahahahahhhhh |
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3:22 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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3:12 |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009)
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 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] 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 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 Cause 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 Cause 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] 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 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] |
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3:59 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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4:00 |
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from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001)
Taking it from the top?
Tippy? Tippy? How High? The Ultimate High [Method Man] Scuse me as I kiss the sky Sing a song of six pence, a pocet full a rye Who the fuck want to die for their culture Stalk the dead body like a vulture Tical get, hmm 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 [Redman] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse When I raise my trigga finga all why'all niggaz hit the decks! Cause ain't 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 [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 don't 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 night 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 existence, M-E-T Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D [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 don't 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 can't forget me now Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock Empty off a licking off a hip hop Fuck the billboard, I'm 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 smoking 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 [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, I'm the second one to hit it [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 Hitting switches, Twisting 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) |
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3:59 |
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from Def Jam 25: Volume 3 - It Takes Two PT 1 (2009)
Taking it from the top?
Tippy? Tippy? How High? The Ultimate High [Method Man] Scuse me as I kiss the sky Sing a song of six pence, a pocet full a rye Who the fuck want to die for their culture Stalk the dead body like a vulture Tical get, hmm 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 [Redman] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse When I raise my trigga finga all why'all niggaz hit the decks! Cause ain't 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 [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 don't 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 night 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 existence, M-E-T Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D [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 don't 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 can't forget me now Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock Empty off a licking off a hip hop Fuck the billboard, I'm 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 smoking 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 [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, I'm the second one to hit it [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 Hitting switches, Twisting 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) |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
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 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 |
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3:32 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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4:11 |
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| from D'Angelo - Voodoo (2000) | |||||
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4:35 |
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| from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001) | |||||
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1:15 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]
Yo yo yo yo We "Push Weight" with Ice Cube's in a cup (AmeriKKKa's) Most Wanted Police pin it up (Alaza an a) Thug passion brotha what Bloatin gettin a girl preganant Off a finger aaaaahhhhh Doc da code name Murgin proclaims off the lot (We can die) Yeah i'm takin full blame I'm hard headed cat fitted for rythmes I touch up your shapper when Doc spit on the ?? What it is my brotha (Gonna live my brotha) How you live my brotha (Real civilized brotha) I'm not fryed Jaul when i walk the streets I rock wit da 4 cds [not a force ehcos....] [Method Man] Chin checks in effect Catch red (Put him in a yokes snap his neck) Mr. M.E.F (The bigheads is at it again) Bone shattering, beat battering me Scattering like roaches Blessin with the over dosage of black black (Say goodbye you got no class) Ship sinkin fast (Bon Voyage) Cya at the bottom when i spot um Grab him by the throat and say aaahuuumm i got um Wassup my brotha? Aiyyo wassup my brotha? Aiyyo wassup my sis? Aiyyo wassup now sis? I got whacha need And you got what i need Got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house Yo wassup my brotha? Wassup my brotha? Aiyyo wassup now sis? What up now sis? You got what i need I got what you need Got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house [Redman] Yo Yo doggs its my Fort Doc Shot wit vaults until death news can talk Cripple kids can walk My style will show guns what it is to spark Hit a clear the park 20 miles apart Doc is like bad weather reports but i'll walk If your not from the tri-boro, story settled I pack gordy metal for those who act fool Big fish in da water and we hard to harpoon I'm like open wounds pourin iodine Messin wit us is like saving "Private Ryan" You acting out a line now you lying, dying Wash my evil hands in the fire hydrant Yeah Girl! My kahuna's hooked up in da harnass Flying through hard knock life is still torn My ropes poped in Chicago i hit the floor then Got up and woke up wit a burn in the morning [Method Man] Aiyyo we mo phat then down south trash And you know dat With fomat blow the welcome of our door mat. Toes tapped Now the helified sound Why your town off the road map Baby mess around I propose that, you go and get your crew and get the bozac too Def squad Wu Or just slave to the rivrim Clinton is the prez i still voted for cherly chism Poison is venom my philosophy is busyism The most beautiful is ?? Minutes as usawal, play your corner Swingin the ghetto pharmasuiticals the Methadonna Or the old Flinstone chewables and mary mary mary So dont ever say i didnt warn ya And i dont wanna be the one to stick the doggs on ya Ruuugh I'm still ghetto, i rhyme ghetto, my peoples ghetto Pants and saggy teeth yellow Now thats what i call grimy A million crazy kids behind me Killa hills 10304 is where you'll find me If your lookin baby i'm right here! Cmon down! Wassup my brotha? Wassup my brotha? Aiyyo wassup now sis? Wassup now sis? Aiyyo you got what i need I got whatcha need Got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house Aiyyo wassup my brotha? Aiyyo wassup my brotha? Wassup now sis? Aiyyo wassup now sis? I got whacha need Aiyyo you got what i need Got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house Yo Crew up in da house Yo Yo Crew up in da house We got Crew up in da house We got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house WKYA Where all my peoples at that love hip hop?? Make some noise! I'll cya'll I'll cya'll Throw your ones up in the air like this so everybody can see um And when i say hip hop......ya'll say one love! Hip hop! One love! Hip hop One love! Hip hop! One love! |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]
Whatcu crazy??!!? Since a buck tooth baby, Doc is like straight fuck you, pay me like Jay-Z Lazy Niggas complain Doc load up the cartridge and start kickin' game like Acclaim Those who you call dogs'll rat your name Those who say they love you, attack your change That's why I fold down 4 fingers Say fuck the world and jimmy da earth out with coat hangers Rap game n street game don't sleep Its a cold world betta pack yer own heat Niggas ain't happy to the cash on "E" Then the hash and the cat and a bag's on me Yeah Right!! My bear hugz air tight New Yorkerz know no turnin' on a redlight Me against 40 of you? A fair fight Microphones get took you shook? Wear white! [Chorus] You don't got no ins in Mi Casa And it's your stopper, Meth Tical Man and Funk Docta You don't got no ins in Mi Casa Bomb Droppa blow you out ya mind, who shot ya? You don't got no ins in Mi Casa Hit it Hip Hoppers turn it up a notch make it it hotta You don't got no ins in Mi Casa I'm warnin' you partna Meth Tical Man and Funk Docta [Method Man] Every time I turn around somebody in my business Time for you to testify, can I get a witness? Actin' like bitch's Dirty Dick niggas look suspicous Ain't physically fit for the fitness Welcome to the game of death Polly wanna biscut? First prize a one way ticket to my shit list And I spread it like a rumor or a sickness Stand-by let a chicken head lay a chicklet Can I slap a fat ass with da quickness? Stupid ass niggas goin' raw and get da sickness Comin' through son, mutha fuck you and your district Misrepresentin', misinterpretin' and they misfit Playboy, you ain't got no balls plus your dickless And I'm like a plumber layin' pipe up in yo misses No man can hold me, nor can control me Next time you see me, holla like you know me! [Chorus] |
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3:39 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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0:57 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009)
<i>[Intro: Method (Redman)]</i>
Deeper than Atlantis (yeah) I pray like a prayin mantis (yeah) It's all day (yeah!) Doc and Meth nigga (Red and Meth's in the motherfuckin buildin yo) Brick City, yeah! Staten Island, yeah! Let's go (oh, yup! Let's go, yo) <i>[Chorus: Redman]</i> Yeah, I'm comin down yo' block And my sound's so loud it'll make a nigga STOP He recognize who remains on top Let a motherfucker know, you never heard this befo' Yeah, I'm comin down yo' block And my sound's so loud it'll make a bitch STOP She recognize who remains on top Let a motherfucker know, you never heard this befo' <i>[Redman]</i> Y'all already know nigga... Yo, it's Funk Doc, my style never change Boy I think I still got it, like Eddie Cane Cause, nights like this, I bring the pain Introducin 11th member of Wu-Tang, Liu Kang Doc's spittin, fire out the palms Sign the check and, me and the world get it on If rap fail, you can bet I'm doin porn My Mobb is Deep, we know how to ride in the (Storm) I'm like Vince Vaughn, I keep it (Old School) For the family I go to war like two-twos Throw it on YouTube, tell 'em I'm ready Biggie said he got room for me when I'm ready Fast lane livin, Mario Andretti Greasy lookin like them characters in "Belly" Close your eardrums, this a recordin Don't be unaware like the mayor of New Orleans, nigga! <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Method Man]</i> These niggaz, wanna be Biggie, niggaz wanna be Tupac The only problem niggaz is you not - look I got this two-shot dillinger, one shot for killin ya If you ain't la familia nigga, I'm not feelin ya Tsst, hot; wheelie the block, watch the billin We are hip-hop, real and you not, lock the buildin Got them Ziplocks, ounces of weed, countin some G's up in this bitch spot, a nigga like me, I don't do tight tees or flip-flops, been a goon since the womb And my dad had that herringbone chain with the spoons Check the wristwatch - deposit the guns Ain't hard to tell that he a big shot - don't plot on my ones I carry the (Faith) like Big 'Pac ??I carry the weight See y'all don't get too carried away, and pay me what my salary say Ha, Meth Doc, gettin that guap Fuck your feelings, this is hard rock, stirrin the pot Watch me get 'em with this, hah <i>[Chorus w/ Redman ad libs]</i> <i>[Redman]</i> Yeah, aiyyo, get that rap game on lock, NOTHIN Rhymes like ours need E on production Lil' kids listenin, we might corrupt 'em (Public Enemy), Chuck D can't trust 'em Name ain't Justin, but I rock (Timberlands) Doctor, right, with the penicillin in Get it? New Jersey Drive like midget Ask five-oh and Dee-Bo how I whip it Yo Meth, can you kick it? <i>[Method Man]</i> Yes I can And the (Kid) stay (Frost) like a Mexican What's good vatos? Crops and candy cane, I got those 357's and three dice, I shot those Every rapper talkin 'bout he hot, he not though Hate to bust bubbles but that's what niggaz get popped fo' Look - I got my glove, bat and ball Catch me pitchin in the trap slingin drug raps and all Let's go! <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Redman]</i> Ha ha! |
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4:05 |
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3:34 |
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2:30 |
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from The Family Values Tour 1999 (2000)
Oh my god...Oh my god !!!! ah ah ah aowww!!!
Microphone checka, swingin sword lecture closin down the sectar supreme neck protector Bet I won em kid Mr. Metha warmin pot about to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV but cheesy, Too many wanna be hard be easy, is all in together going all not together it don't take much to please me Still homes are never satisfy like the stones we don't condome bitin in the sellin crossbones protectin what am writin don't clash with the Titan who blast with a liscence to kill rap presitence C'mon, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home TICAL!!(Fuck your lifestyle!!) (Blew wind)...put your lights out got the shit the crackin got you fienin with your pipes out time for some action, surfin the avenue mad at you, where I used to battle crews back when Antoinette had that attitude Cover me I'm going in, walls closin in got us bustin off these pistols my niggas got issues...again, same song armed with the mega bomb Blow you out the frame and I'm gone. I was going to Buck-we-romes, cellular phones Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bone don't condone Spent bank loans and homegrown suckers break like Turbo in no zone, when I, grab the broom moon-walk platoon hawk my goons spark leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true) three nines and a glove with masu di die in the car right behind on the boss Haters don't touch, weigh us both up now my neighbor doped up got the cable hooked up. All channels lift my shirt all Mammal you ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos. sawed of shotgun hand on the pump, sippin on a forty puffin on a blunt bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaa yeah c'mon, Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaaa |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Street Life]
Yo yo, enta, enta, enta, enta yo It's the synical, lyrical rap individual On my death bed I spit sick flows that's critical I'm not a fan of this, I'm a mic vandalist Thug therapist, my clan's too original My slang bang to wax, words that's visual Too digital for y'all common street criminals Who wanna come test, lick the sweat from my genitals We can get off the mic and get a little physical I was born to rock since they cut my umbilical Cord, I swing swords, behold the prolifical Rhyme writer, hip-hop provider, prize fighter Live wire, quick to set the mic on fire I speak legalized dope, hitman for hire I quote murderous notes, dope rhyme supplier Hang glide on the mic like a stunt driver And I won't stop rockin till I retire [Redman] Yo yo yo When it comes to the darts, I throw em Flamethrower, blow your section-eight home to your payphone up Grass smoker, in the cut for the lawnmower I water, I ride the wale that ate Jonah Over, your faced wit the black cape over You woke up four gorillas wit a makeover Packin a punch, asthma pump takeover My crew boards, and the whole plane lays over (YO YO!) You can't talk wit the tape over Pass the pussy, get out, date's over Back to your gray Nova that's way slower Redline to five on the highway shoulder Enemies say "Doc the one to play closer" This baboon loose off the chain choker Hardcore, ?jacore? I hate poker But y'all spread when my bullet's daytona [Chorus 8x] Comin through, comin through duck Run for cover (BASS!) [Method Man] Yo yo this ain't ya granddaddy music, it's hip hop Comin through your woofer like a mute kit Hundred-thousand watts on some bullshit I blackout eclipse wit the semi bust a full clip (CLAP OUT!) Touch one if any, that's my complexing conquest Now tell that shit to the court, I plead no contest From none of y'all, please I potty train pissy-ass rugrat for free Keep the cake for the family and off Sarah Lee That's how we do, powerful, movin on ya left! Mista who, Meth, black gorilla, beatin on his chest I suggest, you pay yo' debt or Protect Ya Neck I suggest, you wear a vest makin all them threats Here's a chin check that cash and splash niggas in half Smash rappers like hash (smoke em down to ashes) At last it's the crew that party crashes the masses Madness wildin out like special ed classes [Ghostface Killah] Straight out the gate, meet Tony Don of all dons, behind New York King Tut wit one arm Been at nutcrunch last cinnamon toast wit power rose Whips dirty, dustin my bitch, FUCK PAROLE! Peace shout he's Wallee Timb's, wild out (wild out) We in the spot, guns go off though Came out his mask it was Ollie North Oh shit, what up what up Ghost Congratulations on your new flick Burn it dead who max the most Word up you got the most Clarks Bravehearts spin this For under come down in the pale he need minutes Told y'all before I kick doors off the hinges Ain't no cooler and there ain't no Guiness Money like Barry Blue, Keanu Reeves wit bench slippers Play the PGA Tour wit Jack Nicklaus Statues of Mary, gas that bust mercury Sit through the biggest storm and hand out turkey [Redman] Yeah, yeah, yeah, WHUUUA!!! That's the way I like it [Method Man] PISSY ASS RUSTY ASS NIGGAS!! (0-7-1-0-3) 1-0-3-0-4 |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Intro:]
[Redman] Yo man glorious This is protected (?) [Method Man] And Tical [Redman] Slap it down [Method Man] Way out of bound [Redman] Roll in a towel [Method Man] Fo' we gun down [Verse 1:] [Redman] Yo, flipmode, toiletbowls explode When Doc come drop a shitload Grip fo's Mushrooms, dick those Deep pistol Whip hoes I bitch O's Money, Roll, I stick a zipcode Tiptoed, before Doc escape row Thirsty, snippin' out a pig nose My Benz too, with wings and 6-0's My flows is North Pole cold My hands got area's that fits snow Doc, fixin' hoes in disco's My dogs let 'em walk with ripped clothes Shows, Niggas pack 6 rolls We're losin' 'em His hart won't get pulse Pack you bags off a 10 percent doze (?), I could hum and shit cold [Chorus:] [Redman] Yo, yo tear the roof off Yo, yo tear the roof off Back off, don't make me shoot y'all You don't want to fuck with us You don't [Verse 2:] [Method Man] I get scanned, rip sand With this stick style Pistol, lick ground Get off my dick now Kick crowd, hot style You-get-shot-style Timid, scared to get in it These dogs is rock rowd Unchained, untained, you know my name Act strange, pack flame It's not a game The ill flows, that kills shows You can feel yo Kickin' in you do', like a steel Go for real dough Y'all gon learn I spit germs When you come shot on Big Worm You gets burned Punks don't get turned, they get done And get sun, come get some The last victim lye in a ditch Now who wanna fuck with Hot Nick Niggas chew gum with they ass and pop shit Me and Funk Doc get, toxid Up all the rightness I'm chopstick Go make your Wu just imposters [Chorus:] [Verse 3:] [Redman] You try to O.K Corel With Doc and Meth Tical Barsaloon fight without weapons out Strechmarks like Belly on Kevin ?Lous? On yard to score, only second down Hoes play wifey, wanna settle down Try to lock cash, bitch better bounce Boyfriend jumpin', Meth shut 'em down Pound to echo loud, bout 7 miles Doc, dirty Jersey, hunt 'em down Uncut rhymes, won't even fit your foul Baddest man out the bunch, pick 'em out Drunk with a gun, miss you hit the crowd Snitches, someone kiss to stitch you mouth Wilder then rhinos or liquor trous Mrs. how Mary-Ann, dick 'em out Ginger watch with the gun and skip a mouth Love the ruckas and love to dish it out 3 watched MC's, start wristin' out Get your whole camp put on the missile foul Pushin' 12 out, bumpin' digital [Chorus] [Verse 4:] [Method Man] We just ice Men of mice, ain't nothing nice [Redman] Fuck you like [Method Man] Your thight is to light to fight We move right, on fright night When Niggas write We bust pipe, condo's that suck thight We all right, you all hype and war's right In the Source, with half mic, you half liked And half dead, blasted on glass bed (?), eyes red, the hashhead Burn somethin', earn somethin' and learn somethin' Take my turn frontin' Def Jam ain't heard nothin', yet Suspect, ruffnecks Buck 'em down or you get busted Never leave home without my musket Thrust this, out for justice, clown And caught on Judgement Day, caught y'all proud Take MC's to town if they start blawn Ashes to ashes, they all fall ground Master be basket with hazardous tactics Send my automatic full rap metal jacket Blasted in plastic your brain on the mattrress All you kids ask backwards and visa versa [Chorus:] [Outro:] [Redman] Come on, yo tear the roof off Nigga, yo tear the roof off Back off, don't make me shoot y'all You don't want to fuck with us You don't Huh Yo, You don't want to fuck with us You don't Yo, You don't want to fuck with us You don't |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Method Man]
Hydro... indo... (buddha!) Hah... cocoa... yo, ya-ya-yo! I need some brown weed (lady) all day I need some brown weed (jenny) I need some cut (lady, lady) Now these doors don't open, til after dark And it ain't til 12 til the party really starts (Yo, me and my crew had to be in by ten Right before the fun was about to begin) Yo yo, one bitten, jabberjaws, tryin to taste the paper written, kids be bullshittin, I see they flaws Too many rebels, not enough cause for me to pause Them broads love my shitty drawers, the finest criminal minded put my life behind it, you niggaz find it hard to swallow poison in the bottle, she too sexy So I gotta watch you fast bitches, too many tricks that can give a dick a bad sickness *coughing* [Redman] Yo, yo! Yo son excuse me? (Yo) I'm tryin to earn a million buck or two The ill MC step in -- (and who the fuck are you?) Doc start walkin bumpin M.O.P. To catch a nigga gettin gassed, puttin ten on three (Da Ruckus!) With the mic I blast men on sight So off the hook Atlantic Bell had to go on strike Doc did it, metaphors come AMG kitted 20/20 vision, comes tinted! From being so high.. (So high..) so high.. so high.. [Method Man] Air it out Iron Lung I be the street soldier, ante up Pull them panties up, party's over, in the cut slappin grudges offa niggaz shoulder, bringin ruck like them Wild-cats at Villanova, hot as fuck! Duke or sober, suave bowler, soul controller of the universe, stole-a, colder than cola Caps grab your hoodie hat, Island of Stat' keep them cats runnin for they gat, in stormy weather [Redman] Gats, right hook, uppercut swollen how I left your eye Stage dived, made a mistake, kicked F.O.I. Aiyyo hoe! Doc be keepin a dope show like Marilyn Manson the handgun be stashed in the panelling Jersey drop son, watch me whip it like midget Diggin in that whole plate and, piss on your picnic (Don't nobody move) Don't nobody start flinchin Limo driver, roll up the fuckin partition! [M] Who them niggaz that be rollin them thai, high as a kite? Gettin pussy all nite (well all rite cha) yeah yeah [R] Well who them cats you can call on, when you wanna brawl? (Get drunk as hell) and so on (well all rite cha) yo yo [R] Is Funk Doc up in the house? (well all rite cha) yo yo [M] Hot Nix up in the house? (well all rite cha) [R] Bricks to Stat' hold it down (well all rite cha) yo yo [M] Mad dick up in your mouth (hah, all nite cha) [Redman] Yo Tical's and Doc, did it before, I'll do it again Snatch spark to the ignition, I'm screwin it in (Aiyyo we out!) Six drop in ten seconds, what? I'll be the first one on the floor at your, wedding reception B-Boys gather around and act p-noid Bring the Trouble T-Roy, to earlobes, keyloid (Terminator 2) Doc after Sarah Conn' for the barrel bonds (Am I on?) Tical, you're on Uhh-uhh-on, uhh-uhh-on Uh uh-uh uh-uh, uh-uh-on [Method Man] Got these slim pickins on my Charles Dickens, I pack a mac to make your back stiffen, flip the script I act different The eyeball, keep your distance, warning y'all you don't listen Bitchin over shit you ain't gettin So finally, puttin in work, the big hurt MC, with a social disease, and get it first Enemies, feel my energies, four centuries of anger Remember me? (The field nigga!) Too Ghetto Fabulous, RZA.. Sharp, and hazardous Figure, with bad habit, can't hold his liquor Speed like a millipede (Hot Nix-on) Contemplate the non-fiction on loose leaves Paragraphs, hundred degrees, my pen bleed (ha!) Showin you the pain I feel from holdin these black thoughts, deep rooted, nowadays they come with batteries included, in wicked ways [M] Who them niggaz that be rollin them thai, high as a kite? Gettin pussy all nite (well all rite cha) yeah yeah [R] Well who them cats you can call on, when you wanna brawl? (Get drunk as hell) and so on (well all rite cha) yo yo [R] Is Funk Diggy in the house? (well all rite cha) yo yo [M] Meth Diggy no doubt! (well all rite cha) [R] Bricks to Stat' hold it down (well all rite cha) yo yo [M] Mad dick up in your mouth (all nite cha) cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha... * fades in and out before end * |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
Hi.
My name's Mark. And I'm white. I live in a predominantly white neighborhood. I went to a predominantly white college. And I have predominantly all white friends. But at night, while all my white friends are asleep, I bump this. [Redman]: Yo let me ask ya'll a motherfuckin question. Where in the fuck are we at? [Method Man]: Where we at? At? [Redman]: The bri- the bricks... [Method Man]: Shalon... [Redman]: Yo [Method Man]: Yo. Baby Mamas, baby Daddies. Lend us your motherfuckin ears. What we have here are two boys that are possessed. Possessed by dough, hos, and hydro. Where we at? [Redman]: The bri- the bricks... [Method Man]: Shalon... Yo [Redman]: Yo. We welcome ya'll motherfuckers back. To the Blackout tape nigga. Side two. And where we at? The bri- the bricks... [Method Man]: Shalon... Yo [Redman]: Yo. Terror in your motherfuckin area. [Method Man]: 1-0-3-0-4 Detroit. Rock rock on. |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Method man]
Traces of lipstick on my collar Baby you got to do some more to get this last dollar Hotter than lava when you come believe that I'ma follow Lady Madonna like to drink but she don't like to swallow Rockin' that Prada, honey stay up in the beauty-polla' Girl it would be my honour, make you my babymomma Holler she hella proper, fuck with tha dumbin' cousin Sucka for lovin'-buggin', shockin' them duckin' buckin' Suckin' then finga-fuckin', then let me say you somethin' I'm knock the stuffin' of that English muffin Can't tell me nuthin', uhn uhn Pushin yo panic button when I'm stuckin All of a sudden, baby gun-duckin', BBC! Oh girl you nasty [Redman] Yo' I get it on poppin' Doc, unlockin' yo' doors, clockin' my drawers Suckin' your mouth with a torn stockin' Rapped around ? , I'm creepin' when you parkin' Shoot out the lights, darkening the area, then hop in Pick up my bigga nigga who helped me figured the plottin' Droppin' the tops, splittin' the dough Shoppin' in rotten--New York, birds flockin' Because I'm heavy like Bo stockin' coat Watch ya coat from Fo sparkin', they leave the parking Niggaz unforgetable can be forgotten Doc and Meth's album enterin the top ten! Choppin' it raw, lockin' 'n blockin', Only raw choppin' his metaphores, so cops can stop watchin' I put 'em in and cock 'em, ready to rock 'em stock 'em Renevate your appartment, when these two things barkin' My Mackamichi knockin', bougie holes be spottin' on they tampons I get 'em drippie like leaky faucets [Chorus: Redman, (Method Man)] Now who a bitch nigga?! (Now who a snitch nigga?!) Now who the shit nigga?! (Now who the sick nigga?!) Now who you with nigga?! (With who you with nigga?!) Who rock shit nigga?! (Who pop shit nigga?!0 (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! [Redman] I figured it out: ya'll niggaz ain't as big as yo' mouth My street-value well it ain't won't even fit in yo' couch When I bust titties come out No matter what city hardcore committee's dumb to fuck out Son's ya duck out! Nuthin' to lose, poppin' a two up in ya goose Buckle yo shoes, scuffle my boots, fuckin' with you Blow my Anaconda like Nirvana Marijuana got bitches on they knees and they gon' bind us Gettin' 'em dirty dirty with the hersey and the bombin' Holla the drama, fire two in ya armor Ya pigeon betta call ma, the ice is a honour To in help me lift an arm up, lebaba(?) with ya momma Even dirty her donna, my dick is heronomic Pull out a young Geroni-mo, BBC! Oh girl you nasty [Method mand] Itchin' to start the mission, flippin' so keep yo' distance Ain't go no pot to piss in? Ain't got no competition Listen, I slip the clippin', trippin' you get me lippin' Come mis and catch a whippin', now kids is actin' different Ditchin' them double-dippin', chickens that keep forgettin' I ain't the one for trickin', or anybody-kickin' Rippin' these compesitions, scrippin' them paper-written Hold 'em and hit 'n stickin', ballin' like Scottie Pippen It's hot in Hell's Kitchen, but still I'm frost bittin' Shittin' like 'No he didn't', wipin' my ass and splittin' Chattin' like Joe gettin' All in the zone settin' it off like Big Daddy It ain't no half-steppin'...I keep rappin' Staten you keep sweatin', frontin' and ass-bettin' Duckin' my Smith & Wesson , trashin' the Meth and catchin' Hell, we leave you restin' in PEACE, BBC! Oh girl you nasty! |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Y.O.U [single] (2000) | |||||
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| from Method Man, Redman - Y.O.U [single] (2000) | |||||
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| from Method Man, Redman - Y.O.U [single] (2000) | |||||
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