 |
|
4:34 | 
|
||
|
from Method Man - Blackout! (1999)
[Meth] Come on 1 2 1 2 uh uh 1 2 1 2 Mr. Meth and 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 ya'll analog 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 |
|||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
|
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 |
|||||
 |
|
4:44 | 
|
||
| from Wu-Tang Clan - Legendary Weapons (2011) | |||||
 |
|
4:04 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - 4:21...The Day After (2006)
<i>[Chorus: Megan Rochell]</i>
We both know, that our love will grow And forever, will be you and me... <i>[Method Man]</i> Give me a woman that get down for me, my one and only That don't fuss or fuck around on me, or leave me lonely Not just a honey, but a homey, just wanna hold me Cuz she got alotta love for me, and put it on me If I need that, plus she understand me when I beat that It's sweet like candy, this time, I might just eat that You steal my heart, sweetheart, then you can keep that Let's bar hop and find us a spot where we can chief at Push the seats back, you got the kinda body niggaz beep at Try to speak at, but get no feedback Sophisticated, Miss Highly Edumicated Living well, lady that made it, type of woman you stay with <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Method Man]</i> Give me a queen that respects a "king", just like Coretta Get everything except the ring, for worse or better Even through the stormy weather, rain, sleet, snow Whatever, see if it go down, we go together Like Twix bars, ain't no problem that we can't fix, ma You ain't gotta sugar my tank, or key the kid car Cuz broken hearts leave big scars, when emotions get hit hard Niggaz get drunk and hit the strip bar But that ain't even ya man's style, even back as a manchild That's where I stood, and where I stand now I'm throwing rocks at your window pane Trying to bang, girl, like injure pain, you know the game <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Megan Rochell]</i> No matter what we go through (what we go through) I'll be there for you (there for you) I'll never let you down, I'll just hold you down, oh-oooh No matter where we be (where we be) I'll do it all again (all again) The ups and down, I'll hold you down, oh-oooh <i>[Method Man]</i> Give me a woman that get down for me, my one and only She don't fuss or fuck around on me, or leave me lonely Not just a honey, but a homey, just wanna hold me Cuz she got alotta love for me, and now I gotta Lotta love for her, might even take a slug for her And everywhere we go, pull out that red rug for her Yeah, them back rubs in the bathtub, got me cleaning my act up I'm ready to shack up, now that's love <i>[Megan Rochell]</i> Nobody can love you like me boy I'll promise to be your only girl Don't ever leave, just stay You will be down for me, anyway Ahhhhhhhhhh, you and me together, baby <i>[Chorus]</i> |
|||||
|
|
4:21 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Blackout! (1999)
[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 |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
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 |
|||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
| from Method Man, Redman - Y.O.U [single] (2000) | |||||
|
|
4:34 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - 4:21...The Day After (2006)
(feat. Carlton Fisk, RZA, Streetlife)
[Intro: RZA (Method Man)] Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (roll it up niggaz) Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (4:20, y'all, it's time, it's time) Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (it's been a long time for this man Niggaz been sleeping on the kid, man, everybody got some sideway shit to say) Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (Carlo! Know what I'm saying, man? Yeah) [Method Man] Fast or slow mo, oh no, Meth done made a killing Call the po-po, oh niggaz is squealing, oh, y'all ain't feeling Niggaz no more, the bigger they are, harder they go though Good pussy put a hump in my back like Quasimoto Hah, my sex ain't homo, season vet, hold the adobo Got rappers on that low carb diet, y'all can't get no dough I keep a low pro, file, excuse me as I get smoked out Put hands on these niggaz, then put the roach out Go head, I'm wishing you would, ask if it's good Man, this Tarzan shit in the woods, my shit is hood, bitch That means I'm hood rich, telling you lies Straight out the pull-pit, it's like Merrill Lynch I'm on that bullshit Real spit, money come first, and even worse You need all your toes & fingers to count up what I'm worth, trick So when I blow a smoke cloud in your face, just take a hint Dick, you crowding my space, it's Mr. Meth, pa [Chorus: Carlton Fisk] It's 4:20, roll up, nigga getting smo-ked out No seeds, California weed have you choked out No doubt, roll up, which rims spoked out 4:20 mean you either roll up or roll out [RZA] Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it [Method Man] So on and so on, I flow on Power to our people, get your smoke on And I'm so gone, off, that sour diesel Hard to hold on, but hold on, it's like I'm Pretty Toney With that robe, got terrorist shook, because I'm so bomb The hood, put, me in position, I'm in the kitchen With that cook book, the service I'm giving, birds they vision Not a good look, told ya my nigga, Tical deliver Hook or crook, lots of asses to kick, wish I had a bigger foot Yeah, taking it there, hating who care Y'all stay out my mental, I got killas waiting in here To get you, as I sharpen my pencils, tear apart instrumentals Fuck it, y'all niggaz is pussy, so is the dick that sent you RZA, we done it again, Co-D occassion Here's to short skirts and Ol' Dirt McGirt, okay, then Let's get it popping, like it ain't nothing to get it popping The big and rotten's the city, too good to be forgotten [Chorus 2X] [Streetlife] The rap game won't like me You can tell that a nigga is shiesty If I die, my second born'll be like me Slide dick to your wifey Never know your baby boy just might be Quick to rob a jack, he's so icey, stay dressed to kill From the Hill, never ran, never will Attitude, like, fuck you still, I see you missing the point This is not a rap song, you get clapped on Bullets break the bone, like the joint, call you out your name Disrespect ya moms, spit on your dame Go public, then, shit on your fame, you overlooking the fact Where you from, is where we at And y'all don't want no, parts, in that that Caught your verse for sale, but real niggaz don't shoot & tell We'd rather do the time and rot in the cell [Carlton Fisk] The inner outer state, bi-coastal smoker Inhale, Cali piff with a swift of glaucoma Black jeans, black Timbs, black Benz roaster Smoke rise, out the sun roof when I roll up Verrazano, with no relation to Gravano Carlo, shots are hollow, still cop a bottle And pour some out, moment of silence, then I swallow I'm still alive, and still the sun'll come out tomorrow Shine shine shine, and grind, cuz it's money on my mind And I'm moving like my life is on the line For the bullshit, I really got no time, a full clip Really gon' let ya niggaz know what's on my mind When ya getting out of line, have them choppers lit up You won't need a camera phone to get the picture Chalk down, tape around, body bag zipped up Carlo Verrazano, you can call me mister [Chorus] |
|||||
 |
|
4:55 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever (1997)
[Inspectah Deck]
Yo, this goes for all my brothers and sisters locked down For all my peoples incarcerated, for those who ain't make it Yo, in the housing, thousands seen early graves Victims of wordly ways, memories stays engraved All my live brothers, is locked down with high numbers The young hunger, blind to these lies, they die younger In this New World the Order slaughter men, women, and children Ten feet gates surround the building keep us sealed in The projects, lifeless like a vietnam vet Constant war, sever threats of enemy conquest Crooked cops comb my building complex that's in the rumble Streets are like a jungle, can't let my cypher crumble Vivid thoughts, Devils resort to trick knowledge They kick garbage, lust for chicks and quick dollars I know the pain the game bring, I did the same thing Spaced out in the staircase, performing a sting It's hard to keep control, I bless those who seek a scroll Trying to reach a whole nation and break the sleeper hold Not a role model, I walk a hard role to follow I sold bottles of sorrow then chose poems and novels The gospel was told, some souls it swallowed whole Mentally they fold, and they eventually sold their life and times, deadly like the virus design but too, minute to dilute, the science is mine You can't party your life away Drink your life away Smoke your life away Fuck your life away Dream your life away Scheme your life away Cause your seeds grow up the same way [Masta Killa] A voice cries from the wilderness of the North A representation of the families that lost one all victims of incarceration Or other divisions of the family structure Youths are injected with serums that leads to skin irritations, babies being born with disfigurations, experimentations On their faces there bear world relations of mothers that carry the pain of blood stained streets where sisters mourn and wail Fifth brothers been slain from hails of gun fire It lightly begins to rain screams of terror are hidden by the passing trains This can't be little Shane, his uncle cried As he drops to his nephew's side, holding his cane Just give me a name, of who has inflicted this bitter sickness, and left us to witness [U-God] Yeah, yo Curses from war, innocent blood spills for days Soothe in godly ways, hands, solemn in praise Tree of life, more precious than Wu is golden game The wise self flourish inherit, Halls of Fame Crime visions in my blood got me, locked in prison While we die hard living people whine about religion, vision Blow, spin, and sin and killing what's revealing It's a never ending battle with no ending or beginning, listen Zero process, progress, become the hunted America's most wanted, good life flaunted, want it Some love the speed, some satisfy a need Some want to be down, young gun seed, jungle breed The stronger speed, someone die, someone bleed One flew astray, and then caught my little seed Can it be, the ice have us trife life, made me grab the knife The righteous man would be within these stripes pipes Take in my energy, breath and know the rest Cause the good die young and the hard die best You can't party your life away Drink your life away Smoke your life away Fuck your life away Dream your life away Scheme your life away Cause your seeds grow up the same way Cause your seeds grow up the same way Cause your seeds grow up the same way [RZA] Y'all bitches love dances, and pulling down your pants while your man's on tour, your spending up his advances Your friends ain't shit, all they do is drink, smoke, and suck dick The whole projects is trapped in stench You either high school drop-outs, one to three cop-outs Fifteen years old, shorty ass and top out Ninety-nine cent beer drinking pussy stinking Fucking so much your ass and titties start shrinking New World Order slave trade, minimum wage, Medicaid Can a devil fool a Muslim nowadays Inside my lab, I'm going mad Took two drags off the blunts, and started breaking down the flag The blue is for the Crips, the red is for the Bloods The whites for the cops, and the stars come from the clubs or the slugs that ignites, through the night, by the dawn Early light, why is sons fighting for the stripe [Method Man] As we dwell through this concrete hell, calling it home Mama say, take your time young man and build your own Don't wind up like your old dad Still searching for them glory days he never had So many bad want to scheme for American dream, no more kings The cash rule everything now, we going down These babies looking up to us, it's up to us The Million Man March MC's, get on the bus But envy, greed, lust, and hate, separate Though the devil mind state blood kin cannot relate No longer, brothers, we unstable Like Kane when he slew Abel, killing each other You can't party your life away Drink your life away Smoke your life away Fuck your life away Dream your life away Scheme your life away Cause your seeds grow up the same way Cause your seeds grow up the same way Cause your seeds grow up the same way |
|||||
 |
|
4:55 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever [Explicit Version] (2001)
Yo, this goes for all my brothers
and sisters locked down For all my peoples incarcerated, for those who ain't make it Yo, in the housing, thousands seen early graves Victims of wordly ways, memories stays engraved All my live brothers, is locked down with high numbers The young hunger, blind to these lies, they die younger In this New World the Order slaughter men, women, and children Ten feet gates surround the building keep us sealed in The projects, lifeless like a vietnam vet Constant war, sever threats of enemy conquest Crooked cops comb my building complex that's in the rumble Streets are like a jungle, can't let my cypher crumble Vivid thoughts, Devils resort to trick knowledge They kick garbage, lust for chicks and quick dollars I know the pain the game bring, I did the same thing Spaced out in the staircase, performing a sting It's hard to keep control, I bless those who seek a scroll Trying to reach a whole nation and break the sleeper hold Not a role model, I walk a hard role to follow I sold bottles of sorrow then chose poems and novels The gospel was told, some souls it swallowed whole Mentally they fold, and they eventually sold their life and times, deadly like the virus design but too, minute to dilute, the science is mine You can't party your life away Drink your life away Smoke your life away Fuck your life away Dream your life away Scheme your life away Cause your seeds grow up the same way Masta Killa A voice cries from the wilderness of the North A representation of the families that lost one all victims of incarceration Or other divisions of the family structure Youths are injected with serums that leads to skin irritations, babies being born with disfigurations, experimentations On their faces there bear world relations of mothers that carry the pain of blood stained streets where sisters mourn and wail Big brothers been slain from hails of gun fire It lightly begins to rain screams of terror are hidden by the passing trains This can't be little Shane, his uncle cried As he drops to his nephew's side, holding his cane Just give me a name, of who has inflicted this bitter sickness, and left us to witness U-God Yeah, yo Curses from war, innocent blood spills for days Soothe in godly ways, hands, solemn in praise Tree of life, more precious than Wu is golden game The wise self flourish inherit, Halls of Fame Crime visions in my blood got me, locked in prison While we die hard living people whine about religion, vision Blow, spin, and sin and killing what's revealing It's a never ending battle with no ending or beginning, listen Zero process, progress, become the hunted America's most wanted, good life flaunted, want it Some love the speed, some satisfy a need Some want to be down, young gun seed, jungle breed The stronger speed, someone die, someone bleed One flew astray, and then caught my little seed Can it be, the ice have us trife life, made me grab the knife The righteous man would be within these stripes pipes Take in my energy, breath and know the rest Cause the good die young and the hard die best You can't party your life away Drink your life away Smoke your life away Fuck your life away Dream your life away Scheme your life away Cause your seeds grow up the same way Cause your seeds grow up the same way Cause your seeds grow up the same way |
|||||
 |
|
4:11 |
|
||
| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
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? |
|||||
|
|
1:28 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Blackout! (1999)
[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? |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
|
|
3:44 |
|
||
| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
 |
|
3:48 |
|
||
| from Method Man, Redman - A-Yo [single] (2009) | |||||
 |
|
3:18 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Tical 0: The Prequel (2004)
"Yeah, that's right everybody get some act right" Awww shit! Ya know the name Who flip flows like chessboards, there go the games I'm drugs to the brain Even on the 14th of February I ain't got no love for Elaine Back doin' my thang, right Livin' the fast life Bitch grab a seat at the bar, get you some act right If that don't do it then rock, lets bring it back like "Damn right everybody get some act right" Ever since I came up, rappers done changed up Put your walking shoes back on and step your game up I'm getting through off the books, rock we banked up Y'all don't think my shit off the hook, then yall can hang on I'm like a king that's so fresh so clean I leave niggaz like black coffee, no cream Come inside the party fuck up the whole scene "That's right everybody get some act right" [Hook] Get up get up, ya know what we came here for What up what up, get your asses out on the floor Come on come on, I've been away for far too long Guess who's back and far too strong for ya niggaz (now) We feelin' good tonight, we hittin' 'dro like We gettin money and gettin' honeys that flow like My mic, my clothes, my life, my dough "Thats right everybody get some act right" Ya damned if you do, ya damned if you don't Step inside my Range and get blammed if you won't My Clan in the joint, man we got it locked Like whatever niggaz got in the bank, I got it stopped Y'all already know of my strength already growin' And this game many may come but few are chosen I don't usually do this, but keep the party going like "Damn right everybody get some act right" I get tips from BIG and Pac when they blastin' the heat If you's a rapper, don't ever ride the passenger seat One to grow on When up shit's creek, you get your roll on Boy I never stop, I go on, so on and so on Rappers can't fuck with me My career's like somebody put glue in your chair and now your stuck with me I don't use pick up lines, I guess I'm just picky "That's right everybody get some act right" [Hook] Extra extra read all about it Who shits they grounded, flies all around it My trees don't doubt it, they green as a salad All American Express I never leave home without it I'll never go pop, Meth Man I'm bout it Whenever I rock, the jam's over crowded I'm never gonna stop, the fans won't allow it "Damn right everybody get some act right" Yo, get it you got it, if you got it then good "There's a lot of rappers rappin' but not a lot of 'em could" I'm that boy in the hood that told Red Riding Hood There ain't nothin but wars in my neck of the woods So! Who's ready for MC Whoa What's beef? Beef is what I got teeth for I eat up everything on my plate then eat yours like "That's right everybody get some act right" [Hook] "Stand up! Staten Island, Lond Island get some act right Every borough, New Jersey get some act right Each state, west coast, east coast, dirty south, midwest get some act right If it ain't well, it ain't right If it ain't Meth, it ain't tight So on that note like this, everybody get some act right" |
|||||
 |
|
2:55 |
|
||
| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
|
|
3:13 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Tical 0: The Prequel (2004)
[Intro: Method Man] Damn... yo, yo [Method Man] Woke up in the morning, like ten A.M Walked passed the Listerine, went straight for the gin Osama Bin Laden on my chinny chin chin [Ghostface Killah] Yo, Meth, the mailman! [Method Man] Yo, Ghost, let him in! [Ghostface Killah] Will you sign, Mr. Ghostface, package for a friend, here Right by the X, my bad, here's a pen [Method Man] Gucci flip flops, I box my way to the kitchen My keys is missin', my trees is missin' No more parties, cuz Doc need to listen [Ghostface Killah] Cuz something in my closet, go look (he's a pissin') I cursed this bitch out, we be laid back [Method Man] Half a box of cereal gone, my milk's warm Mad strong, this is John John, pro and con phenomenon Stretch with a morning yawn, party 'til the break of dawn Ladies throw your faces on, sing it when the break come on [Chorus: Method Man (Ghostface Killah)] Each (meet) son (see) Boats (suites) dough (beats) No cat give you these, rap flow triple g's Meth, Ghost, Killa Beez, you know we ride [Ghostface Killah] Wu-Tang, the best rap group of all time Rush little shotgun, rest around nine Refrigerator, fish and sweets with no swine Dirty and Meth guest room with four dimes And U-G. had a master headache Him and Genius flew back from, Uganda black, gettin' that cake Where Divine at? Wine at Tell a DJ to rewind that, Killa killed it wit a blind back Dime sack, you know we blew that wit the cognac Them bowling ball lead head niggaz, we call them pawn yacks [Method Man] I say my girl, like to party all the time, Ghost Spend up my ends, every week, she always crime broke Thank God it's friday, I just got paid Feelin' good like I just got laid The next drink's on me, instead of, oh God, you think O.G White girls they comin' out, like they Pink on E So you better get the party started, we get it crunk regardless We got the 'dro and hypnotic, them kids is puffin' garbage Is where it's crackin' at, Street is you passin' that? Mami's is grabbin' ass, Johnny, I'm grabbin' back You know my habitat, you know my peoples If you wit me, where you at There ain't nothin' compared to that, come on! [Chorus: Method Man (Ghostface Killah)] Each (meet) son (see) Boats (suites) dough (beats) No flows ill as these, him and Ghost, nigga please Meth, Ghost, Killa Beez, you know we ride [Hook 2X: Method Man (Ghostface Killah)] I got me some Seagram's gin Everybody got they cup, but they ain't shit there (These cheap muthafuckas be grown ass men Tight muthafuckas finish your shit then they bounce off with them) Come back again, drunk off your gin And when they try to get you for they ends, that's no friend That's no friend, eh, eh [Outro: Method Man] Yeah, greedy muthafuckas, always wanna get high But never wanna buy, first one to come to the party Last one to leave, man, fuck all that Aiyo, Mr. Streetlife, tell 'em where we come from man.. |
|||||
 |
|
3:16 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Tical (2000)
[Chorus:]
You're all that I need, I'll be there for you If you keep it real with me, I'll keep it real witchu Loving your whole schemes, it be in there boo On top of that you got the good power-U [Verse One:] Check it out Shorty I'm there for you anytime you need me For real girl, it's me in your world, believe me Nuttin make a man feel better than a woman Queen with a crown that be down for whatever There are few things that's forever, my lady We can make war or make babies Back when I was nuttin You made a brother feel like he was something That's why I'm with you to this day boo no frontin Even when the skies were gray You would rub me on my back and say "Baby it'll be okay" Now that's real to a brother like me baby Never ever give my pussy away and keep it tight aight And I'ma walk these dogs so we can live In a fat ass crib with thousands of kids Word life you don't need a ring to be my wife Just be there for me I'm a make sure we Be livin in the fucking lap of luxury I'm realizing that cha didn't have to fuck with me But cha did now I'm going all out kid And I got mad love to give, you my nigga [Chorus 2X] [Verse Two:] I got a love jonz for your body and your skin tone Five minutes alone I'm already on the bone Plus I love the fact you got a mind of your own No need to shop around you got the good shit at home Even if I'm locked up North you in the world Rockin three-fourths of cloth never showin your stuff off, boo It be true me for you that's how it is I can be your Noah you can be my Wiz Then I can be your Sun, you can be my Earth Resurrect the God through birth Best believe [Chorus 2X] |
|||||
 |
|
3:42 |
|
||
|
from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001)
[Chorus:]
You're all that I need, I'll be there for you If you keep it real with me, I'll keep it real witchu Loving your whole schemes, it be in there boo On top of that you got the good power-U [Verse One:] Check it out Shorty I'm there for you anytime you need me For real girl, it's me in your world, believe me Nuttin make a man feel better than a woman Queen with a crown that be down for whatever There are few things that's forever, my lady We can make war or make babies Back when I was nuttin You made a brother feel like he was something That's why I'm with you to this day boo no frontin Even when the skies were gray You would rub me on my back and say "Baby it'll be okay" Now that's real to a brother like me baby Never ever give my pussy away and keep it tight aight And I'ma walk these dogs so we can live In a fat ass crib with thousands of kids Word life you don't need a ring to be my wife Just be there for me I'm a make sure we Be livin in the fucking lap of luxury I'm realizing that cha didn't have to fuck with me But cha did now I'm going all out kid And I got mad love to give, you my nigga [Chorus 2X] [Verse Two:] I got a love jonz for your body and your skin tone Five minutes alone I'm already on the bone Plus I love the fact you got a mind of your own No need to shop around you got the good shit at home Even if I'm locked up North you in the world Rockin three-fourths of cloth never showin your stuff off, boo It be true me for you that's how it is I can be your Noah you can be my Wiz Then I can be your Sun, you can be my Earth Resurrect the God through birth Best believe [Chorus 2X] |
|||||
 |
|
3:36 |
|
||
|
from Cut Killer - Cut Killer Lunatic (2005)
[Chorus:]
You're all that I need, I'll be there for you If you keep it real with me, I'll keep it real witchu Loving your whole schemes, it be in there boo On top of that you got the good power-U [Verse One:] Check it out Shorty I'm there for you anytime you need me For real girl, it's me in your world, believe me Nuttin make a man feel better than a woman Queen with a crown that be down for whatever There are few things that's forever, my lady We can make war or make babies Back when I was nuttin You made a brother feel like he was something That's why I'm with you to this day boo no frontin Even when the skies were gray You would rub me on my back and say "Baby it'll be okay" Now that's real to a brother like me baby Never ever give my pussy away and keep it tight aight And I'ma walk these dogs so we can live In a fat ass crib with thousands of kids Word life you don't need a ring to be my wife Just be there for me I'm a make sure we Be livin in the fucking lap of luxury I'm realizing that cha didn't have to fuck with me But cha did now I'm going all out kid And I got mad love to give, you my nigga [Chorus 2X] [Verse Two:] I got a love jonz for your body and your skin tone Five minutes alone I'm already on the bone Plus I love the fact you got a mind of your own No need to shop around you got the good shit at home Even if I'm locked up North you in the world Rockin three-fourths of cloth never showin your stuff off, boo It be true me for you that's how it is I can be your Noah you can be my Wiz Then I can be your Sun, you can be my Earth Resurrect the God through birth Best believe [Chorus 2X] |
|||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
| from Method Man - All I Need [single] (2002) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Method Man - All I Need [single] (2002) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Method Man - All I Need [single] (2002) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Method Man - All I Need [single] (2002) | |||||
 |
|
2:52 |
|
||
| from Method Man Presents Street Life - Street Education (2010) | |||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
| from Snoop Dogg - Snoop Dogg Presents Algorithm (Global Edition) (2021) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Snoop Dogg - Snoop Dogg Presents Algorithm (Global Edition) (2021) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Snoop Dogg - Snoop Dogg Presents Algorithm (Global Edition) (2021) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Snoop Dogg - Snoop Dogg Presents Algorithm (Global Edition) (2021) | |||||
|
|
3:36 |
|
||
| from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001) | |||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Tang Vs. Shaolin Masters (2011) | |||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
|
from Rush Hour (러시 아워) by Ira Hearshen [ost] (1998)
Yeah, now we're gonna give a shout out, knowumsayin'?
Def Jam, knowumsayin'? Niggas like Method Man, Redman Say all the artists here, knowumsayin'? Bacon Lot, knowumsayin'? I don't need no introductions, Cat Whuuuuut I'm sittin' in my west, I'm analyzin' thoughts I'm sippin' off a quart that I just had bought I'm thinkin' of the moment, things soar in that head I feel assurin' durin', also glad Yes, feel assured by knowin' I won Cuz there's no one who can fuck wit A-Sun I'm not bein' pushy but I'm born to boss You need A-Sun, oh yes, well of course Don't see the riot, everyone keeps quiet If you don't believe nigga, get hyper and try it Yes it is me, a total fresh MC Yo, I'm born to be, MC history Rhyming on time because that's the deal You're only as fresh as your ass feel Other MC's, you are bound to fall Cuz your real world is not a world at all 1 - |
|||||
|
|
2:38 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever (1997)
(come on in)
[Ol Dirty] *singing* Dinn-dnn-dnn-ta-dnn (come on in) Dinn-dnn-ta-dnn, dinn DNN DAH (come on, come on, come on in) Dnn-da-duh-duh-DAH, you BITCH ASS niggaz! (come on in, come on, come on, come on in) Intro/Chorus: Ol Dirty/Osirus As high as Wu-Tang get Allah allow us pop this shit Just like black shoe fit If you can't wear it, well don't fuck with it! Verse One: The Genius/GZA Yo, too many songs, weak rhymes that's mad long Make it brief Son, half short and twice strong No doubt, it took time searchin, eventually it was prime urgent, for you to examine the rhyme merchant Lace MC's with styles when they rhyme drunk On a label hunt, until twenty thou, out the trunk Eight Diagram sword swinga armored tank force RZA throw in the disc but then change the bank source You can't flow, must be the speech impediment You got lost off the snare off Impeach the President Whether in Amsterdam smokin seven grams of green then you pack, a thousand white teens in tight jeans This Witty Unpredictable shot is critical to analytical analogy, insurance policies why Said he know that sounds define the note Couldn't recognize, blast him the fuck behind the ropes Too many dope niggaz I see starvin Catch a single deal, a possible plea bargain Wu slay regardles to whom or what, five mics five nights Hang him from the balcony, drop twenty-five flights A fugitive bass playin rap czar smoke the cigars, his prints on the strings of his guitar Chorus Verse Two: Method Man/Iron Lung Tical got a hold on ya, doin exactly what the fuck I mariju-wanta, dis nigga nasty Deep in the dirty dungeon, buggin, lovin the ways these rhymes keep comin, at cha splash ya Get your head piece fractured, with killer cuts prone to drops ya, slash ya, rip shit up Got this whole thing Tang mastered, sho nuff An MC too good to be touched, John John bring the phenomenon, I cold crush MC, inferiorities they froze up, ice cold as we move on, saga unfold Captivated by a saga that go untold, like Goldfinger Caught up in a cliffhanger Yo I-N-S another code red, danger, break out the vest Now it's tactical warfare, it's all here Come with your shield and hardware, it be on here Don't ever roam, in the naked city Eight Fingers stories none pretty Bomb em wit the Witty Unpredictable, conditionin be critical Peace to Tang, gettin high on your physical, dis next drink is a toast to your memory When I go how many niggaz gon' remember me Chorus |
|||||
|
|
2:38 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever [Explicit Version] (2001)
(come on in)
[Ol Dirty] *singing* Dinn-dnn-dnn-ta-dnn (come on in) Dinn-dnn-ta-dnn, dinn DNN DAH (come on, come on, come on in) Dnn-da-duh-duh-DAH, you BITCH ASS niggaz! (come on in, come on, come on, come on in) Intro/Chorus: Ol Dirty/Osirus As high as Wu-Tang get Allah allow us pop this shit Just like black shoe fit If you can't wear it, well don't fuck with it! Verse One: The Genius/GZA Yo, too many songs, weak rhymes that's mad long Make it brief Son, half short and twice strong No doubt, it took time searchin, eventually it was prime urgent, for you to examine the rhyme merchant Lace MC's with styles when they rhyme drunk On a label hunt, until twenty thou, out the trunk Eight Diagram sword swinga armored tank force RZA throw in the disc but then change the bank source You can't flow, must be the speech impediment You got lost off the snare off Impeach the President Whether in Amsterdam smokin seven grams of green then you pack, a thousand white teens in tight jeans This Witty Unpredictable shot is critical to analytical analogy, insurance policies why Said he know that sounds define the note Couldn't recognize, blast him the fuck behind the ropes Too many dope niggaz I see starvin Catch a single deal, a possible plea bargain Wu slay regardles to whom or what, five mics five nights Hang him from the balcony, drop twenty-five flights A fugitive bass playin rap czar smoke the cigars, his prints on the strings of his guitar Chorus Verse Two: Method Man/Iron Lung Tical got a hold on ya, doin exactly what the fuck I mariju-wanta, dis nigga nasty Deep in the dirty dungeon, buggin, lovin the ways these rhymes keep comin, at cha splash ya Get your head piece fractured, with killer cuts prone to drops ya, slash ya, rip shit up Got this whole thing Tang mastered, sho nuff An MC too good to be touched, John John bring the phenomenon, I cold crush MC, inferiorities they froze up, ice cold as we move on, saga unfold Captivated by a saga that go untold, like Goldfinger Caught up in a cliffhanger Yo I-N-S another code red, danger, break out the vest Now it's tactical warfare, it's all here Come with your shield and hardware, it be on here Don't ever roam, in the naked city Eight Fingers stories none pretty Bomb em wit the Witty Unpredictable, conditionin be critical Peace to Tang, gettin high on your physical, dis next drink is a toast to your memory When I go how many niggaz gon' remember me Chorus |
|||||
|
|
2:32 |
|
||
| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
 |
|
5:08 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Explicit Version] (2001)
(Intro/Chorus: Madame D)
Light is shinin.. beauty sunshine Here comes one-time.. the ball was so fine Heat is blazin.. the kids were playin His partner was shady.. tryin to slave the babies (Ghostface Killah) Aiyyo they didn't know the cop was crooked, he had blow out in Brooklyn All this while he let the fiends cook it The baseheads stirred it up, plus they got to blow it up Dropped it off in the PJ's and they bigged it up Then one day, shit jumped off real crazy The middle of a bathroom they find an old lady No clothes, half of her tongue, ear missin The killer had to be mad smart, he wore mittens Even though her leg was bitten Crackheads point the finger at Detective Slick Morris Gittins Paleface cop who done popped the desk And got the chop on his neck from when he knocked Celeste It was a slug, drug, he pressured everybody on the block Some niggaz know him as the Godson of Gotti And his black partner, he was scared to speak He saw how they planted weapons on these kids in the street He saw like over fifty bodies in like fifty-two weeks He saw his colleague pick up money before leavin his beat They call him desk duty, Robocop Younger dudes call him Freddy Krugs from the way he walk on the block (Chorus) (Raekwon the Chef) Heard the disturbance out the window, oh shit they got my son Pulled over his Tempo, Brenda dropped the endo Had her little nephew with her yo she didn't care They always harassed her, until she blew the captain with a razor His partner turned red in his waist, Mase done smacked her with the walkie, yoked her then slammed her on her face He bugged on her like she was drugged, plugged one in her The fifth relaxed her like a big thug pistol whipped her Heard she was dusted, musta been the way they threw the cuffs on her She broke the shits, went and rushed the kid Wavin her hands, she had a half an axe, all in her tracks He grabbed her by the air, she broke his jaw it cracked More cops arrived, they both bloodied down by the five Wildest niggaz just smilin cause it look live They gave her forty years in New Orleans, callin me (?) Shorty was young, by three days had a great bid (Chorus) (GZA) You're just worms in the worst part of the apple that's rotten You squirm and you turn from the right, still plottin All slimy cause you stay grimy, petty crimey cat You sometime me, don't need to remind me about livin in the core, with the scramblers in front of the store The bum holdin the door, the mugging no one saw We played ball in the alley where dope was shot raw And the school they kept flawed, plus the lowest test scores Small percentage determined to strengthen they position Transformation from critical to, stable condition But it still be obstacles on niggaz that's optical Watchin you like salt-water sharks that's tropical The money was the root and it's the instinct to make it With they pockets and fridge naked, many aim to take it Whether - hold up, set up, stabbin or a wet up Just to know it was the kid next door fizzucked your head up Once he fell short, frequently visit the courts And for some, another way out, is music and sports That's why I, keep the rhyme just as fly as a shot that won the championship, with just oh on the clock (Chorus) - repeat 2X |
|||||
|
|
5:08 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Explicit Version] (2001)
[Intro/Chorus: Madame D]
Light is shinin.. beauty sunshine Here comes one-time.. the ball was so fine Heat is blazin.. the kids were playin His partner was shady.. tryin to slave the babies [Ghostface Killah] Aiyyo they didn't know the cop was crooked, he had blow out in Brooklyn All this while he let the fiends cook it The baseheads stirred it up, plus they got to blow it up Dropped it off in the PJ's and they bigged it up Then one day, shit jumped off real crazy The middle of a bathroom they find an old lady No clothes, half of her tongue, ear missin The killer had to be mad smart, he wore mittens Even though her leg was bitten Crackheads point the finger at Detective Slick Morris Gittins Paleface cop who done popped the best And got the chop on his neck from when he knocked Celeste It was a slug, drug, he pressured everybody on the block Some niggaz know him as the Godson of Gotti And his black partner, he was scared to speak He saw how they planted weapons on these kids in the street He saw like over fifty bodies in like fifty-two weeks He saw his colleague pick up money before leavin his beat They call him desk duty, Robocop Younger dudes call him Freddy Krugs from the way he walk on the block [Chorus] [Raekwon the Chef] Heard the disturbance out the window, oh shit they got my son Pulled over his Tempo, Brenda dropped the endo Had her little nephew with her yo she didn't care They always harassed her, until she blew the captain with a razor His partner turned red in his waist, Mase done smacked her with the walkie, yoked her then slammed her on her face He bugged on her like she was drugged, plugged one in her The fifth relaxed her like a big thug pistol whipped her Heard she was dusted, musta been the way they threw the cuffs on her She broke the shits, went and rushed the kid Wavin her hands, she had a half an axe, all in her tracks He grabbed her by the air, she broke his jaw it cracked More cops arrived, they both bloodied down by the five Wildest niggaz just smilin cause it look live They gave her forty years in New Orleans, callin me wodie Shorty was young, by three days had a great bid [Chorus] [GZA] You're just worms in the worst part of the apple that's rotten You squirm and you turn from the right, still plottin All slimy cause you stay grimy, petty crimey cat You sometime me, don't need to remind me about livin in the core, with the scramblers in front of the store The bum holdin the door, the mugging no one saw We played ball in the alley where dope was shot raw And the school they kept flawed, plus the lowest test scores Small percentage determined to strengthen they position Transformation from critical to, stable condition But it still be obstacles on niggaz that's optical Watchin you like salt-water sharks that's tropical The money was the root and it's the instinct to make it With they pockets and fridge naked, many aim to take it Whether - hold up, set up, stabbin or a wet up Just to know it was the kid next door fizzucked your head up Once he fell short, frequently visit the courts And for some, another way out, is music and sports That's why I, keep the rhyme just as fly as a shot that won the championship, with just oh on the clock [Chorus] - repeat 2X |
|||||
 |
|
5:08 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Clean Version] (2001)
[Intro/Chorus: Madame D]
Light is shinin.. beauty sunshine Here comes one-time.. the ball was so fine Heat is blazin.. the kids were playin His partner was shady.. tryin to slave the babies [Ghostface Killah] Aiyyo they didn't know the cop was crooked, he had blow out in Brooklyn All this while he let the fiends cook it The baseheads stirred it up, plus they got to blow it up Dropped it off in the PJ's and they bigged it up Then one day, shit jumped off real crazy The middle of a bathroom they find an old lady No clothes, half of her tongue, ear missin The killer had to be mad smart, he wore mittens Even though her leg was bitten Crackheads point the finger at Detective Slick Morris Gittins Paleface cop who done popped the desk And got the chop on his neck from when he knocked Celeste It was a slug, drug, he pressured everybody on the block Some niggaz know him as the Godson of Gotti And his black partner, he was scared to speak He saw how they planted weapons on these kids in the street He saw like over fifty bodies in like fifty-two weeks He saw his colleague pick up money before leavin his beat They call him desk duty, Robocop Younger dudes call him Freddy Krugs from the way he walk on the block [Chorus] [Raekwon the Chef] Heard the disturbance out the window, oh shit they got my son Pulled over his Tempo, Brenda dropped the endo Had her little nephew with her yo she didn't care They always harassed her, until she blew the captain with a razor His partner turned red in his waist, Mase done smacked her with the walkie, yoked her then slammed her on her face He bugged on her like she was drugged, plugged one in her The fifth relaxed her like a big thug pistol whipped her Heard she was dusted, musta been the way they threw the cuffs on her She broke the shits, went and rushed the kid Wavin her hands, she had a half an axe, all in her tracks He grabbed her by the air, she broke his jaw it cracked More cops arrived, they both bloodied down by the five Wildest niggaz just smilin cause it look live They gave her forty years in New Orleans, callin me (?) Shorty was young, by three days had a great bid [Chorus] [GZA] You're just worms in the worst part of the apple that's rotten You squirm and you turn from the right, still plottin All slimy cause you stay grimy, petty crimey cat You sometime me, don't need to remind me about livin in the core, with the scramblers in front of the store The bum holdin the door, the mugging no one saw We played ball in the alley where dope was shot raw And the school they kept flawed, plus the lowest test scores Small percentage determined to strengthen they position Transformation from critical to, stable condition But it still be obstacles on niggaz that's optical Watchin you like salt-water sharks that's tropical The money was the root and it's the instinct to make it With they pockets and fridge naked, many aim to take it Whether - hold up, set up, stabbin or a wet up Just to know it was the kid next door fizzucked your head up Once he fell short, frequently visit the courts And for some, another way out, is music and sports That's why I, keep the rhyme just as fly as a shot that won the championship, with just oh on the clock [Chorus - repeat 2X] |
|||||
|
|
5:07 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Clean Version] (2001)
(Intro/Chorus: Madame D)
Light is shinin.. beauty sunshine Here comes one-time.. the ball was so fine Heat is blazin.. the kids were playin His partner was shady.. tryin to slave the babies (Ghostface Killah) Aiyyo they didn't know the cop was crooked, he had blow out in Brooklyn All this while he let the fiends cook it The baseheads stirred it up, plus they got to blow it up Dropped it off in the PJ's and they bigged it up Then one day, shit jumped off real crazy The middle of a bathroom they find an old lady No clothes, half of her tongue, ear missin The killer had to be mad smart, he wore mittens Even though her leg was bitten Crackheads point the finger at Detective Slick Morris Gittins Paleface cop who done popped the desk And got the chop on his neck from when he knocked Celeste It was a slug, drug, he pressured everybody on the block Some niggaz know him as the Godson of Gotti And his black partner, he was scared to speak He saw how they planted weapons on these kids in the street He saw like over fifty bodies in like fifty-two weeks He saw his colleague pick up money before leavin his beat They call him desk duty, Robocop Younger dudes call him Freddy Krugs from the way he walk on the block (Chorus) (Raekwon the Chef) Heard the disturbance out the window, oh shit they got my son Pulled over his Tempo, Brenda dropped the endo Had her little nephew with her yo she didn't care They always harassed her, until she blew the captain with a razor His partner turned red in his waist, Mase done smacked her with the walkie, yoked her then slammed her on her face He bugged on her like she was drugged, plugged one in her The fifth relaxed her like a big thug pistol whipped her Heard she was dusted, musta been the way they threw the cuffs on her She broke the shits, went and rushed the kid Wavin her hands, she had a half an axe, all in her tracks He grabbed her by the air, she broke his jaw it cracked More cops arrived, they both bloodied down by the five Wildest niggaz just smilin cause it look live They gave her forty years in New Orleans, callin me (?) Shorty was young, by three days had a great bid (Chorus) (GZA) You're just worms in the worst part of the apple that's rotten You squirm and you turn from the right, still plottin All slimy cause you stay grimy, petty crimey cat You sometime me, don't need to remind me about livin in the core, with the scramblers in front of the store The bum holdin the door, the mugging no one saw We played ball in the alley where dope was shot raw And the school they kept flawed, plus the lowest test scores Small percentage determined to strengthen they position Transformation from critical to, stable condition But it still be obstacles on niggaz that's optical Watchin you like salt-water sharks that's tropical The money was the root and it's the instinct to make it With they pockets and fridge naked, many aim to take it Whether - hold up, set up, stabbin or a wet up Just to know it was the kid next door fizzucked your head up Once he fell short, frequently visit the courts And for some, another way out, is music and sports That's why I, keep the rhyme just as fly as a shot that won the championship, with just oh on the clock (Chorus) - repeat 2X |
|||||
|
|
4:01 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Tical 0: The Prequel (2004)
[Intro: Method Man] Uh.. that's right, oh yeah Back with some nasty shit, right there Nasty, nasty, girl, nasty girl, baby come on Think you a nasty girl, yea [Method Man] Pretty young thing like to bone And she hate to spend her nights alone, baby doll you in the zone Why not call me on the phone, and invite me home Come on, now, baby, come on-on Know what I mean, take a real queen to fuck with me Trustin' me, and give it up for free Next time, feel free to hit me up, anything you wanna puff a tree Come on, now, baby, come on-on We'll shake me up, stop stallin', what you waitin' for? You know we both ain't got no place to go So roll it up, and lay low Everytime I say, yes, baby, you say no Come on, now, baby, come on-on Now-now, now-now-now, you don't have to stay It's ok, there's the dough, you can walk away, why make we wait Til tomorrow, when you can break me off today Come on, now, baby, come on-on [Chorus: Kardinal Offishall] Yeah! Gal dem we love, and gal we need She crush up me things and light me weed We see dem shotgun, and watch me speed Me need a pringy one or pon we need it Gal dem we *ugh*, and gal we screw When we need the girl, up one night po' half me crew And lick on my collection, and what to do Me need a nasty girl, it could be you, eh! [Method Man] I won't lie, I love P-U-S-S-Y, (why?) Cuz I never let it walk on by, or any slice of the american pie Come on, now, baby, come on-on Girlfriend, you know it's half past two A.M You got a friend, but you ain't really trynna fuck with him Aight, then, hit up Batty, I'll gladly come and tuck you in Come on, now, baby, come on-on Scream at your frog, all's fair, love & basketball She remind me of this chick that used to fuck with Dirty Bastard, ya'll Heard that she could suck a ball through a plastic straw Come on, now, baby, come on-on Know what I'm sayin', kid, she get it poppin' off and half the time A little, candlelight, a little glass of wine I'm thinkin', another drink and that ass is mine Come on, now, baby, come on-on [Chorus] [Method Man] If you girl come knockin' at my door, it's my duty To give her what she came here for I'm try'nna knock it down, but I ain't try'nna claim that dough Come on, now, baby, come on-on That's what's up, start the fire, Buddha, light things up The only nigga puttin' ends on some rims for his ice cream truck Pick a flavor, I'll come and scoop your whole team up Come on, now, baby, come on-on That's how it be, don't trip, but girl you put a hurtin' on me Oh shit, hope other chicks don't take it personally But ma, you killin' her, murder in the first degree Come on, now, baby, come on-on Okay, okay, can the ladies come out and play with Mr. Meth I ain't trynna take you out your way Why break me off tomorrow, when you can break me off today Come on, now... [Chorus] [Outro: Method Man] Me need a nasty girl, it could be you, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh Big up to, super producer, Fafu, one love to Kardinal Offishall And the whole T-Dot, oh! |
|||||
|
|
4:34 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Explicit Version] (2001)
"It's true - the Shaolin and the Wu-Tang, could be dangerous!"
(Method Man) Uh-huh, Mr. Biggs, Track Masters (woo!) It's a Wu-Tang official right here y'know (Inspectah Deck) Yeah, the employees of the year yeah we're back to work We took time off, while other rappers got jerked Shit's bout to change now, it's a shame how things ain't the same but I'm back in the game now And as we step in the door, we cause panic Yep, the usual suspects, we at it Vet status, y'all went a week with the belt Few chicks felt your style, now you feelin yourself Meet your maker, I dropped you at eight years old I got stock in your flow and crops to sharehold Crops with the prose where cops won't dare go Got top centerfolds too hot to wear clothes Still me - always have and will be Ill G - it's silly to hate but feel free Hey - hear what I say, they gotta pay And my return is like Christ, declare the holiday (Chorus: Ron Isley) Back in the game now.. copped me some weed now My people bout to eat now.. shit's bout to change now Back in the game now.. all my niggaz in the hood now Better catch up now.. shit's bout to change now (Method Man) Uh, y'all see I'm in the street strugglin Young dumb and thuggin, give a FUCK about nuttin Stuck at rock bottom, tryin to come up on somethin Pumpin from sundown to sun-up, we hustlin Vision my nigga now get in where you fit in And see prison, as just the high cost of livin the life Ante up cause if you blow the dice on that O-Z, Dorothy ain't goin home tonight That's on e'rythang, put it on the kids and the wife Been buryin my folks ever since they raised the price on the coke Searchin for a quick antidote Mo' money, mo' problems to cope (GZA) We were at the same table when the chips were checked A gamblin +Rebel+ who +Inspects+ the +Deck+ Just when you thought we would fold our hand Against all odds we raised the bet like we changed the plans It was live on air but in between station breaks I was holdin a pair and just made the table stakes Split the demos, put insurance on tapes A safeguard against the crusaders in capes If I double down they say the Gods are sharks If we win against the house they thought the cards was marked We draw hit after hit from a royal flush menu While the dealer promoted the full house venue A spade in the club with the heart to wear diamonds The high roller who got credit upon signin They look puzzled when I shuffle, most of 'em stunned by the hustle Recourse of bluff game's your muscle (Chorus) - 0.75X (Raekwon) Say what? ("Shaolin shadowboxing!") (R. Isley) Shit's bout to change.. (Raekwon the Chef) Aiyyo, on rainy days I sit back and count ways on how to get rich, coolin with a mean ill Jamaican bitch Banana coat matchin with the ratchet Lil' black weave sweatpants style, air force is actin Jump in the 6, kicks look crisp, talkin bout the bird Flow through your hood in the mean tints that's giant It's like the family that flipped on you for lyin Buried you alive, left your whore cryin We on your floor look more doors Dey ain't ate either, I hope y'all niggaz is armed And when we get there, all my niggaz in the mix Yeah Shallah Lex, Diamond got me buyin Louis Rich (Ghostface Killah) Most people say the Clan was missin since I got dropped offa radio Overnight your whole style was bitten in the process Everybody switched they names like Whatcha call it, any fast (?) It was the Gods that repped that, sharkskin dark skinned bitches Clarks from Digi left the game dizzy Ooh got busy, that dancey shit slid through We had to stay hood cause that's who we been through RZA came through, mastermind got the cash and power Proof that power plastered divine classical lines Mathematical rhymes, the style is unbearable Now niggaz with the radical shines It's Ghost-Deini, every coast need me We back motherfucker that's right, it's the W.T.C. World Trade Center, Wu-Tang Clan We brought so much heat that we was givin you tears an' shit (Chorus) {*Ron Isley ad libs to fade*} |
|||||
|
|
4:03 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Clean Version] (2001)
"It's true - the Shaolin and the Wu-Tang, could be dangerous!"
(Method Man) Uh-huh, Mr. Biggs, Track Masters (woo!) It's a Wu-Tang official right here y'know (Inspectah Deck) Yeah, the employees of the year yeah we're back to work We took time off, while other rappers got jerked Shit's bout to change now, it's a shame how things ain't the same but I'm back in the game now And as we step in the door, we cause panic Yep, the usual suspects, we at it Vet status, y'all went a week with the belt Few chicks felt your style, now you feelin yourself Meet your maker, I dropped you at eight years old I got stock in your flow and crops to sharehold Crops with the prose where cops won't dare go Got top centerfolds too hot to wear clothes Still me - always have and will be Ill G - it's silly to hate but feel free Hey - hear what I say, they gotta pay And my return is like Christ, declare the holiday (Chorus: Ron Isley) Back in the game now.. copped me some weed now My people bout to eat now.. shit's bout to change now Back in the game now.. all my niggaz in the hood now Better catch up now.. shit's bout to change now (Method Man) Uh, y'all see I'm in the street strugglin Young dumb and thuggin, give a FUCK about nuttin Stuck at rock bottom, tryin to come up on somethin Pumpin from sundown to sun-up, we hustlin Vision my nigga now get in where you fit in And see prison, as just the high cost of livin the life Ante up cause if you blow the dice on that O-Z, Dorothy ain't goin home tonight That's on e'rythang, put it on the kids and the wife Been buryin my folks ever since they raised the price on the coke Searchin for a quick antidote Mo' money, mo' problems to cope (GZA) We were at the same table when the chips were checked A gamblin +Rebel+ who +Inspects+ the +Deck+ Just when you thought we would fold our hand Against all odds we raised the bet like we changed the plans It was live on air but in between station breaks I was holdin a pair and just made the table stakes Split the demos, put insurance on tapes A safeguard against the crusaders in capes If I double down they say the Gods are sharks If we win against the house they thought the cards was marked We draw hit after hit from a royal flush menu While the dealer promoted the full house venue A spade in the club with the heart to wear diamonds The high roller who got credit upon signin They look puzzled when I shuffle, most of 'em stunned by the hustle Recourse of bluff game's your muscle (Chorus) - 0.75X (Raekwon) Say what? ("Shaolin shadowboxing!") (R. Isley) Shit's bout to change.. (Raekwon the Chef) Aiyyo, on rainy days I sit back and count ways on how to get rich, coolin with a mean ill Jamaican bitch Banana coat matchin with the ratchet Lil' black weave sweatpants style, air force is actin Jump in the 6, kicks look crisp, talkin bout the bird Flow through your hood in the mean tints that's giant It's like the family that flipped on you for lyin Buried you alive, left your whore cryin We on your floor look more doors Dey ain't ate either, I hope y'all niggaz is armed And when we get there, all my niggaz in the mix Yeah Shallah Lex, Diamond got me buyin Louis Rich (Ghostface Killah) Most people say the Clan was missin since I got dropped offa radio Overnight your whole style was bitten in the process Everybody switched they names like Whatcha call it, any fast (?) It was the Gods that repped that, sharkskin dark skinned bitches Clarks from Digi left the game dizzy Ooh got busy, that dancey shit slid through We had to stay hood cause that's who we been through RZA came through, mastermind got the cash and power Proof that power plastered divine classical lines Mathematical rhymes, the style is unbearable Now niggaz with the radical shines It's Ghost-Deini, every coast need me We back motherfucker that's right, it's the W.T.C. World Trade Center, Wu-Tang Clan We brought so much heat that we was givin you tears an' shit (Chorus) {*Ron Isley ad libs to fade*} |
|||||
|
|
4:34 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Clean Version] (2001)
"It's true - the Shaolin and the Wu-Tang, could be dangerous!"
[Method Man] Uh-huh, Mr. Biggs, Track Masters (woo!) It's a Wu-Tang official right here y'know [Inspectah Deck] Yeah, the employees of the year yeah we're back to work We took time off, while other rappers got jerked Shit's bout to change now, it's a shame how things ain't the same but I'm back in the game now And as we step in the door, we cause panic Yep, the usual suspects, we at it Vexed at it, y'all went a week with the belt Few chicks felt your style, now you feelin yourself Meet your maker, I dropped you at eight years old I got stock in your flow and crops to sharehold Crops with the prose where cops won't dare go Got top centerfolds too hot to wear clothes Still me - always have and will be Ill G - it's silly to hate but feel free Hey - hear what I say, they gotta pay And my return is like Christ, declare the holiday [Chorus: Ron Isley] Back in the game now.. copped me some weed now My people bout to eat now.. shit's bout to change now Back in the game now.. all my niggaz in the hood now Better catch up now.. shit's bout to change now [Method Man] Uh, y'all see I'm in the street strugglin Young dumb and thuggin, give a FUCK about nuttin Stuck at rock bottom, tryin to come up on somethin Pumpin from sundown to sun-up, we hustlin Vision my nigga now get in where you fit in And see prison, as just the high cost of livin the life Ante up cause if you blow the dice on that O-Z, Dorothy ain't goin home tonight That's on e'rythang, put it on the kids and the wife Been buryin my folks ever since they raised the price on the coke Searchin for a quick antidote Mo' money, mo' problems to cope [GZA] We were at the same table when the chips were checked A gamblin +Rebel+ who +Inspects+ the +Deck+ Just when you thought we would fold our hand Against all odds we raised the bet like we changed the plans It was live on air but in between station breaks I was holdin a pair and just made the table stakes Split the demos, put insurance on tapes A safeguard against the crusaders in capes If I double down they say the Gods are sharks If we win against the house they thought the cards was marked We draw hit after hit from a royal flush menu While the dealer promoted the full house venue A spade in the club with the heart to wear diamonds The high roller who got credit upon signin They look puzzled when I shuffle, most of 'em stunned by the hustle Recourse of bluff game's your muscle [Chorus - 0.75X] [Raekwon] Say what? ("Shaolin shadowboxing!") [R. Isley] Shit's bout to change.. [Raekwon the Chef] Aiyyo, on rainy days I sit back and count ways on how to get rich, coolin with a mean ill Jamaican bitch Banana coat matchin with the ratchet Lil' black weave sweatpants style, air force is actin Jump in the 6, kicks look crisp, talkin bout the bird Flow through your hood in the mean tints that's giant It's like the family that flipped on you for lyin Buried you alive, left your whore cryin We on your floor look more doors Dey ain't ate either, I hope y'all niggaz is armed And when we get there, all my niggaz in the mix Yeah Shallah Lex, Diamond got me buyin Louis Rich [Ghostface Killah] Most people say the Clan was missin since I got dropped offa radio Overnight your whole style was bitten in the process Everybody switched they names like Whatcha call it, any fast (?) It was the Gods that repped that, sharkskin dark skinned bitches Clarks from Digi left the game dizzy Ooh got busy, that dancey shit slid through We had to stay hood cause that's who we been through RZA came through, mastermind got the cash and power Proof that power plastered divine classical lines Mathematical rhymes, the style is unbearable Now niggaz with the radical shines It's Ghost-Deini, every coast need me We back motherfucker that's right, it's the W.T.C. World Trade Center, Wu-Tang Clan We brought so much heat that we was givin you tears an' shit [Chorus] [Ron Isley ad libs to fade] |
|||||
|
|
4:34 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Explicit Version] (2001)
"It's true - the Shaolin and the Wu-Tang, could be dangerous!"
[Method Man] Uh-huh, Mr. Biggs, Track Masters (woo!) It's a Wu-Tang official right here y'know [Inspectah Deck] Yeah, the employees of the year yeah we're back to work We took time off, while other rappers got jerked Shit's bout to change now, it's a shame how things ain't the same but I'm back in the game now And as we step in the door, we cause panic Yep, the usual suspects, we at it Vet status, y'all went a week with the belt Few chicks felt your style, now you feelin yourself Meet your maker, I dropped you at eight years old I got stock in your flow and crops to sharehold Crops with the prose where cops won't dare go Got top centerfolds too hot to wear clothes Still me - always have and will be Ill G - it's silly to hate but feel free Hey - hear what I say, they gotta pay And my return is like Christ, declare the holiday [Chorus: Ron Isley] Back in the game now.. copped me some weed now My people bout to eat now.. shit's bout to change now Back in the game now.. all my niggaz in the hood now Better catch up now.. shit's bout to change now [Method Man] Uh, y'all see I'm in the street strugglin Young dumb and thuggin, give a FUCK about nuttin Stuck at rock bottom, tryin to come up on somethin Pumpin from sundown to sun-up, we hustlin Vision my nigga now get in where you fit in And see prison, as just the high cost of livin the life Ante up cause if you blow the dice on that O-Z, Dorothy ain't goin home tonight That's on e'rythang, put it on the kids and the wife Been buryin my folks ever since they raised the price on the coke Searchin for a quick antidote Mo' money, mo' problems to cope [GZA] We were at the same table when the chips were checked A gamblin +Rebel+ who +Inspects+ the +Deck+ Just when you thought we would fold our hand Against all odds we raised the bet like we changed the plans It was live on air but in between station breaks I was holdin a pair and just made the table stakes Split the demos, put insurance on tapes A safeguard against the crusaders in capes If I double down they say the Gods are sharks If we win against the house they thought the cards was marked We draw hit after hit from a royal flush menu While the dealer promoted the full house venue A spade in the club with the heart to wear diamonds The high roller who got credit upon signin They look puzzled when I shuffle, most of 'em stunned by the hustle Recourse of bluff game's your muscle [Chorus] - 0.75X [Raekwon] Say what? ("Shaolin shadowboxing!") [R. Isley] Shit's bout to change.. [Raekwon the Chef] Aiyyo, on rainy days I sit back and count ways on how to get rich, coolin with a mean ill Jamaican bitch Banana coat matchin with the ratchet Lil' black weave sweatpants style, air force is actin Jump in the 6, kicks look crisp, talkin bout the bird Flow through your hood in the mean tints that's giant It's like the family that flipped on you for lyin Buried you alive, left your whore cryin We on your floor look more doors Dey ain't ate either, I hope y'all niggaz is armed And when we get there, all my niggaz in the mix Yeah Shallah Lex, Diamond got me buyin Louis Rich wear [Ghostface Killah] Most people say the Clan was missin since I got dropped offa radio Overnight your whole style was bitten in the process Everybody switched they names like Whatcha call it, any fast (?) It was the Gods that repped that, sharkskin dark skinned bitches Clarks from Digi left the game dizzy Ooh got busy, that dancey shit slid through We had to stay hood cause that's who we been through RZA came through, mastermind got the cash and power Proof that power plastered divine classical lines Mathematical rhymes, the style is unbearable Now niggaz with the radical shines It's Ghost-Deini, every coast need me We back motherfucker that's right, it's the W.T.C. World Trade Center, Wu-Tang Clan We brought so much heat that we was givin you tans an' shit [Chorus] {*Ron Isley ad libs to fade*} |
|||||
|
|
5:12 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever (1997)
Yeah, yo
Give me the cue Skip the introduction, prosate the lip function The junction get rushed by some grimy people bustin weed Splatter your belly like some Attica fellas Use a firearm good, bloods go for hard swelling Insert the spasm, yes the dirty hurt has them Thoroughbred thugs insert the fantasm Verbal smarts, spark the word, visit my scripture Exotic wine, holding nine, Picasso pictures When the rhyme pivot you now, limit your chance Bodyguard the lyric with unlimited stance Words seem to zing on down to Bejing When we touch down you crown renowned kings Verse two: Method Man There's no honor amongst theives, street pharmaceutical Stack like Genovese, the four devil tempt mad men But not these, we profound hardcore sound To MC's thumbs down, prepare Killa bees it be warfare, this the year Niggaz gotta take you off of here, hold the square If we go there we go gritty And spread fear through this rap city, call the mayor My razor sharp darts be like cold stairs The smell of fear makes my nostrils -- flair, truth or dare Ask yourself can you compare to these niggaz in the hood, Johnny B. Goode or he be gone, yeah The struggle goes on, you've been warned P.L.O. from here to Lebanon, how many bombs Must we drop in the Ninety-Now Walk a mile in my shoes, get the street news, from Meth-Tical Verse Three: RZA You gots to be kidding, you gots to be kidding Aiyyo kid, you gots to be kidding, my glocks'll be spitting You gots to be kidding, yo It's common sense how I master my circum-fer-ence, you dense I get locked the fuck up, released on my own recognizance Can't be judged, young bloods bust back like scuds Wu-Tang harvest one thousand notches above MC level, yo, I stay high as like treble Foes who oppose get plucked like rose pedals Arresting and holding, penetrate for better regions Wack MC's only lasted one season The morale was low at the corral Adjective pronouns had no style, yo, we propose our aim the official, initial, is Ruler Zig-Zag-Zig Allah All that other bullshit ain't permissable Annual increase of the Wu-Tang Manual Handles to a keyboard is true hip hop set tangible illegible, every egg ain't edible My tracks remain Unforgettable, like Ol' Nat Cole Got to catch this paper to buy Shaquasia a glacier Throw chairs to deck a skyscraper Understand that the continents of Africa and Asia and free the black man from the enslaved labor, Wu-Tang Interlude: Masta Killa, Method Man, Raekwon The weight of the fam is on our back and we can't fall Victim to this long hall of fame, meaning nuttin We came to punish the glutton with a substance That can't be contained, Wu-Tang Motherfuckers We be seeing y'all asses when we walk up in the club Y'all all in the back Scared to speak the speak cause you scared Punk motherfucker, we know what time it is [Raekwon conversating with some people] All you been seeing is upsets in the box and shit right It's like come on man This nigga fucked up motherfuckin Whittaker Dang, he caught Whittaker Mmmmhmmm He caught Whittaker a long time ago Mike got touched Then Mike got touched by Holyfield Holyfield Yeah, word up Hey, Mike's -- Mike's gonna forfeit this fight He ain't fighting McDermit He ain't fightin? Nope Whattup? You talkin bout he -- what he, what he, what he did? Told them he cut his eye, in sparring Verse Five: Ghostface Killah Style adoral rap pressing, David Berkowitz Einstein birth to hit, now nurture it M.G.M. front row seat tonight, no gens Purified cleanse, ran into some beef up in the men's Fix your sawed off, Wu-Tang throw me off the cross All you saw was white meat, skin hangin off These is words from the Arch Bishop, some call it six up The Betty Crocker, marvel cake stakes admissor Wax janitor, black Jack Mulligan from Canada Slam dance, tarantula style, youse a fan of the Monopoly king, Slavic poetry Carnegie Hall's off the hook, let's push through the armory Mack truck hitting soloist, soul controllers Behold of the thousand teeth fist, swift and boneless Outro: RZA You know, cause Wu-Tang is invincible, youknowhatI'mean? It's Wu-Tang Forever God (invincible) Knahmsaying? We gonna get down with that W You gonna get down with that W That's that Wu, that's that Wisdom YouknowhatI'msayin? That's the Wisdom of the Universe That's the truth, of Allah, for the Nation, of the Gods YouknowhatI'msayin? We breakin egg through these days God YouknowhatI'msayin? We got the fuckin way We got the medicine for yo' sickness Out here, ya knowhatImean? I was telling Shorty like -- Yo Shorty, you don't even gotta go to summer school Pick up the Wu-Tang double CD And you'll get all the education you need this year YouknowhatImean? (Their poisoned minds can't comprehend this shit) Word man, it's Wu-Tang Forever God Niggaz can't fuck with these lyrics God YouknowhatI'msayin? Knahmean? (Oh hell no, none of this shit) C'mon man -- beats, lyrics man, y'all niggaz (Niggaz can't even understand half this shit) Nah (man, no) I think niggaz ain't gonna figure it out til the year Two-G (Wax niggaz ass for free or fee) Word Yo, you know what? The next Wu-Tang album ain't even comin out until Two Thousand YaknowhatImean? That's just gonna come back with a comet You hear, we gonna bring a comet (Check for that shit in the millenium) YouknowhatImean? So, yo, y'all niggaz man (Be the ressurection) The Gods is here man Born Gods is here (Born God) |
|||||
|
|
5:12 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever [Explicit Version] (2001)
Verse One: U-God
Yeah, yo Give me the cue Skip the introduction, prosate the lip function The junction get rushed by some grimy people bustin weed Splatter your belly like some Attica fellas Use a firearm good, bloods go for hard swelling Insert the spasm, yes the dirty hurt has them Thoroughbred thugs insert the fantasm Verbal smarts, spark the word, visit my scripture Exotic wine, holding nine, Picasso pictures When the rhyme pivot you now, limit your chance Bodyguard the lyric with unlimited stance Words seem to zing on down to Bejing When we touch down you crown renowned kings Verse two: Method Man There's no honor amongst theives, street pharmaceutical Stack like Genovese, the four devil tempt mad men But not these, we profound hardcore sound To MC's thumbs down, prepare Killa bees it be warfare, this the year Niggaz gotta take you off of here, hold the square If we go there we go gritty And spread fear through this rap city, call the mayor My razor sharp darts be like cold stairs The smell of fear makes my nostrils -- flair, truth or dare Ask yourself can you compare to these niggaz in the hood, Johnny B. Goode or he be gone, yeah The struggle goes on, you've been warned P.L.O. from here to Lebanon, how many bombs Must we drop in the Ninety-Now Walk a mile in my shoes, get the street news, from Meth-Tical Verse Three: RZA You gots to be kidding, you gots to be kidding Aiyyo kid, you gots to be kidding, my glocks'll be spitting You gots to be kidding, yo It's common sense how I master my circum-fer-ence, you dense I get locked the fuck up, released on my own recognizance Can't be judged, young bloods bust back like scuds Wu-Tang harvest one thousand notches above MC level, yo, I stay high as like treble Foes who oppose get plucked like rose pedals Arresting and holding, penetrate for better regions Wack MC's only lasted one season The morale was low at the corral Adjective pronouns had no style, yo, we propose our aim the official, initial, is Ruler Zig-Zag-Zig Allah All that other bullshit ain't permissable Annual increase of the Wu-Tang Manual Handles to a keyboard is true hip hop set tangible illegible, every egg ain't edible My tracks remain Unforgettable, like Ol' Nat Cole Got to catch this paper to buy Shaquasia a glacier Throw chairs to deck a skyscraper Understand that the continents of Africa and Asia and free the black man from the enslaved labor, Wu-Tang Interlude: Masta Killa, Method Man, Raekwon The weight of the fam is on our back and we can't fall Victim to this long hall of fame, meaning nuttin We came to punish the glutton with a substance That can't be contained, Wu-Tang Motherfuckers We be seeing y'all asses when we walk up in the club Y'all all in the back Scared to speak the speak cause you scared Punk motherfucker, we know what time it is [Raekwon conversating with some people] All you been seeing is upsets in the box and shit right It's like come on man This nigga fucked up motherfuckin Whittaker Dang, he caught Whittaker Mmmmhmmm He caught Whittaker a long time ago Mike got touched Then Mike got touched by Holyfield Holyfield Yeah, word up Hey, Mike's -- Mike's gonna forfeit this fight He ain't fighting McDermit He ain't fightin? Nope Whattup? You talkin bout he -- what he, what he, what he did? Told them he cut his eye, in sparring Verse Five: Ghostface Killah Style adoral rap pressing, David Berkowitz Einstein birth to hit, now nurture it M.G.M. front row seat tonight, no gens Purified cleanse, ran into some beef up in the men's Fix your sawed off, Wu-Tang throw me off the cross All you saw was white meat, skin hangin off These is words from the Arch Bishop, some call it six up The Betty Crocker, marvel cake stakes admissor Wax janitor, black Jack Mulligan from Canada Slam dance, tarantula style, youse a fan of the Monopoly king, Slavic poetry Carnegie Hall's off the hook, let's push through the armory Mack truck hitting soloist, soul controllers Behold of the thousand teeth fist, swift and boneless Outro: RZA You know, cause Wu-Tang is invincible, youknowhatI'mean? It's Wu-Tang Forever God (invincible) Knahmsaying? We gonna get down with that W You gonna get down with that W That's that Wu, that's that Wisdom YouknowhatI'msayin? That's the Wisdom of the Universe That's the truth, of Allah, for the Nation, of the Gods YouknowhatI'msayin? We breakin egg through these days God YouknowhatI'msayin? We got the fuckin way We got the medicine for yo' sickness Out here, ya knowhatImean? I was telling Shorty like -- Yo Shorty, you don't even gotta go to summer school Pick up the Wu-Tang double CD And you'll get all the education you need this year YouknowhatImean? (Their poisoned minds can't comprehend this shit) Word man, it's Wu-Tang Forever God Niggaz can't fuck with these lyrics God YouknowhatI'msayin? Knahmean? (Oh hell no, none of this shit) C'mon man -- beats, lyrics man, y'all niggaz (Niggaz can't even understand half this shit) Nah (man, no) I think niggaz ain't gonna figure it out til the year Two-G (Wax niggaz ass for free or fee) Word Yo, you know what? The next Wu-Tang album ain't even comin out until Two Thousand YaknowhatImean? That's just gonna come back with a comet You hear, we gonna bring a comet (Check for that shit in the millenium) YouknowhatImean? So, yo, y'all niggaz man (Be the ressurection) The Gods is here man Born Gods is here (Born God) |
|||||
 |
|
3:30 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Tical 2000: Judgement Day (1998)
Big Dogs
) Def Squad, Wu Tang (check it, check it out) 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 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) [ 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! |
|||||
|
|
3:25 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Blackout! (1999)
[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! |
|||||
|
|
3:28 |
|
||
| from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
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! |
|||||
 |
|
3:27 |
|
||
|
from Ginuwine - The Senior (2003)
Baby I got big plans A big ring a small hand A big cake bridesmaid best man One day we gon have all of that Baby I got big plans A big ring a small hand A big cake bridesmaid best man One day we gon have all of that Girl I know we just met tonight And this may seem like a line But I'm not the playa type Normally you wouldn't find me Under the club light In searh of a love life But you shaking that stuff right I think I should make you my wife [Chorus] You probably think I'm trying to crush tonight Cause I gotta look of lust with crush in my eye No matter what i say keep it tight Keep it away from me like Superman and kryptonite You see I'm not thinking short term I've learned Giving everybody turns comes out like a bad perm You got the wanna beg to earn Oh beaby yeah [Chorus] I know this sounds crazy boo I ain't even known you two Things that I'm opened to The way that I propose to you Must think I'm some kind of fool You can call it with your finger but I'm thinking we gon jump back [Method Man] Back seat of my jeep lets swing an episode Her neck and wrist all froze I'm tryin to catch a cold Clip in the tray We sippin away on that zayg on the mission Slowly slippin away Aint't life funny Don't nothin move but that money Oh boy honies looking like playboy bunnies The Whole swagger That be the type that I go after They get more attention cause their a**es more fatter And every dog gotta have her But I ain't trying to make her un-comfy Or cramp her style like I'm ugly How many women want a man With big plans big feet and big hands Ya understand why the daddy wears the big pans I'm big boned And if this symbolizes my life I live long My funny valentine would you be mine 50 gran on the wedding band tell her G wine [Chorus] |
|||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
| from Wu-Tang Clan - Think Differently Music : Wu-Tang Meets The Indie Culture (2005) | |||||
|
|
2:50 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Tical (2000)
What? What you want?
Represent, represent, represent Yeah, represent check it out check it out Yo mama don't wear no drawers! I saw her when she took them off! Standin' on the welfare line, eatin' swine Tryin' to look fine, with her stank behind You can ask the bitch and she'll tell ya fast Meth Tical got style with his nasty ass Are you ready to face the consequences and suffer? I even tell ya momma you ain't shit, motherfucker Bring it, and let that killer bee kid sting it And rep-resent, it's like heads up a brick, when I'm swing it Get lost, I break you off something I'm pumpin', like a Reebok, with a pump, from the jump and You was nothin' Bet ya thought ya fuckin' clan had ya fuckin' back but they was frontin' Smokin' dirt blunts and fuckin' nasty stunts and Ya take the naked gun without the bullet, what ya bustin' Get ya ship sunken, fuckin' with a drunken Master disaster at enemy rap functions Huh, just an echo Yoo-hoo ripin'-ripin', in the valley Yoo-hoo ripin'-ripin', so to bring back Sweet memories of you And you can even ask your crew Betcha bottom dollar that they tell ya fast Meth-Tical got style with his nasty ass Who said the Wu-Tang Clan? Was it you or your man? You want to point the finger, I'll bring ya 36 chambers, be out, youze in danger Let me pull ya brain outcha ass with a hanger Didn't momma not tell ya not to talk to a stranger Now ya got ya neck, in the noose, of the strangler Just recline, keep the Meth in mind I'll even test the knuckle check on the hands of time What? And I'll be more than glad to bust that ass All up and down the block, the street, the isle Whatever, smokin' on a Spike Lee joint Hey I'm Mo' Better, I'm hopin' niggaz get the point Cause they could never, stop the veteran, word to God When I'm severin' the head of a mental vegetarian The Method, at the weekend, with a whole lot of credit The cuties I desire, I be the first to set it off Flame on like the Human Torch Fantastic Four for all the fans in the store You can eat it all and it'll tell ya fast Meth-Tical got style for ya nasty ass 94 baby, word up, recognize, recognize Wu-Tang killer bee The RZA and the Method MZA Raider Ruckus, where you at? |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Wu-Tang Clan - Think Differently Music : Wu-Tang Meets The Indie Culture (2005) | |||||
|
|
3:50 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever (1997)
[U-God]
Hard days of work You had a hard day at work baby I want you to sit down, relax While I soak you in my mentals Backrub style, watch this, yo, yo Massage, peppermint oil, shampoo and pears Cinnamin, aloe, natural for you hair So lather the soap, coconut conditioning Honey lather, blood flowing, love glistening Motion lotion, breeze, over the ocean Lovers, bath crystals, lovers bun scrubbers Hot milk bath, steam shower rubbing These will splash long loving in your oven Make it off, break it off, till it gets soft Passion fruit, pussy cat, want to touch it off In and out, rapers patients, Hershey's Kisses get a style Stress reliever soak your feet, air them out Brain message, think about pink Stress relieving, no dishes in the sink Upper lower, left, right, neck don't play Back rub, count on, take me away Waterfall beads, streams, plush and lavish Come with me through all the damn madness Night breeze at sea, sipping tea You and your queen melodies, and trees, 85 degrees Jet skis breeze Scraping water on chocolate, butter scotch flowers Vapor action, tropical sunshower Baby powder, relax, feel for an hour Sand suntan, snuggled up snug Snowey days, fireplace, oriental rug Thugs, lay on the couch, pull it out, perfect balance Chemical stimuli, two tokes off the chalace Complete silence, what surround us Whats the finest, wrapped in cold sheets Vanilla apple heat, loop played jazz music, coffee pillow sleeps Breakfast in bed, early morning sun treats Sunset level, suprise sunrises, hell Lay on the couch, while I clip your toenails Dreams of peaches and cream steam secret spells Soft spoken gospel, Barry White acapell Violin, good medicine, sound swell Sunshine like, the right, without the hell Taste sugar, wise storm steam stick Slowdance drink, like nights over Egypt Having, stabbing, calm chilling now we rolling Company, ice cream licking now we holding Gentle force, warm tingle of the golden Open loose, ice cubes, kiss your belly Alcohol, palm trees, peanut butter jelly Almond twirl, fantastic melodies Soon, taste these spoons Wiping me with toon, fly wine, prize storm Now it's high noon, rasberry spices Cherry breath, drink from the mountain, sip the very best Sounds of the shore, every winter is a war Paradise life, recipe now pour Musicness, model, gentle mental Wash away your sorrow, fantasy Allah Put the message in the bottle Carry you through, the threshold, do my duty Happy ending, go to rest Sleeping Beauty Yo, this is that body shop shit Love love slam Edible underwear, champagne, bubble bath Have your snack on that ass that Know what I mean? Massaging these melodies Put that gangsta shit on the shelf Blow winds, blow, through your hair Sea breeze sticks and shit Right right [Method Man] When your around boo Come and chop this mother fucking beat you stank ass trick |
|||||
|
|
3:50 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever [Explicit Version] (2001)
[U-God]
Hard days of work You had a hard day at work baby I want you to sit down, relax While I soak you in my mentals Backrub style, watch this, yo, yo Massage, peppermint oil, shampoo and pears Cinnamin, aloe, natural for you hair So lather the soap, coconut conditioning Honey lather, blood flowing, love glistening Motion lotion, breeze, over the ocean Lovers, bath crystals, lovers bun scrubbers Hot milk bath, steam shower rubbing These will splash long loving in your oven Make it off, break it off, till it gets soft Passion fruit, pussy cat, want to touch it off In and out, rapers patients, Hershey's Kisses get a style Stress reliever soak your feet, air them out Brain message, think about pink Stress relieving, no dishes in the sink Upper lower, left, right, neck don't play Back rub, count on, take me away Waterfall beads, streams, plush and lavish Come with me through all the damn madness Night breeze at sea, sipping tea You and your queen melodies, and trees, 85 degrees Jet skis breeze Scraping water on chocolate, butter scotch flowers Vapor action, tropical sunshower Baby powder, relax, feel for an hour Sand suntan, snuggled up snug Snowey days, fireplace, oriental rug Thugs, lay on the couch, pull it out, perfect balance Chemical stimuli, two tokes off the chalace Complete silence, what surround us Whats the finest, wrapped in cold sheets Vanilla apple heat, loop played jazz music, coffee pillow sleeps Breakfast in bed, early morning sun treats Sunset level, suprise sunrises, hell Lay on the couch, while I clip your toenails Dreams of peaches and cream steam secret spells Soft spoken gospel, Barry White acapell Violin, good medicine, sound swell Sunshine like, the right, without the hell Taste sugar, wise storm steam stick Slowdance drink, like nights over Egypt Having, stabbing, calm chilling now we rolling Company, ice cream licking now we holding Gentle force, warm tingle of the golden Open loose, ice cubes, kiss your belly Alcohol, palm trees, peanut butter jelly Almond twirl, fantastic melodies Soon, taste these spoons Wiping me with toon, fly wine, prize storm Now it's high noon, rasberry spices Cherry breath, drink from the mountain, sip the very best Sounds of the shore, every winter is a war Paradise life, recipe now pour Musicness, model, gentle mental Wash away your sorrow, fantasy Allah Put the message in the bottle Carry you through, the threshold, do my duty Happy ending, go to rest Sleeping Beauty Yo, this is that body shop shit Love love slam Edible underwear, champagne, bubble bath Have your snack on that ass that Know what I mean? Massaging these melodies Put that gangsta shit on the shelf Blow winds, blow, through your hair Sea breeze sticks and shit Right right [Method Man] When your around boo Come and chop this mother fucking beat you stank ass trick |
|||||
|
|
3:43 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Blackout! (1999)
[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] |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
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] |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
|
|
2:34 |
|
||
|
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! |
|||||
|
|
3:54 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Tical 2000: Judgement Day (1998)
Yo yo
Ex-gyrlfriend, how you been? I see you still tryin to f ck with other women men, remember when I first met you in my cousin's house, a week later we was f ckin on your mama's couch, now it's been said that big gyrl's don't cry, but they damn sure lie Look you in the eye, sayin you they only You and I, til the day we die, said you'd never leave me loney, fly tenderoni but you phony shoulda listened when my mama told me soon as I turn my back you try to f ck my homies that was then this is now I got a new friend, ever since I cut them loose ends you wanna bone me Add strife to my life, p ssy that'll make me think twice about leavin the wife even, picture that you ain't want me when you had me, now you on your 3rd baby daddy, and you hate to see a n gga happy So you tryin mad ways to trap me, lookin at my girl nasty Tryin to throw the p ssy at me "Now look at this b tch over here tryin' to act like me" "Uh-huh, f ck that bitch, she ?? ?? leftover"I'm still in love with babe(8x) Yo yo it's always you and your crusty ss crew be actin' new Let me fin out that you f ckin with Boo and you gon' feel it Waitin for the day that you front, and catch a lump from a black butterfly, that don't pack a lullaby Sleep on her, she said you b tches tried to creep on her in the mall and didn't know she had the reach on her Pearl-handled 22 , my Boo She go ahead and walk her dogs, and represent Wu to the fullest, you and hon can shoot the fair one I'll bring the bullets, know what I'm sayin? Stop playin You and them dyke lookin b t |
|||||
|
|
3:06 |
|
||
|
from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001)
Basically, can't fuck with me
I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental Records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the king But niggaz is decaf I stick 'em for the cream Check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your cross color, clothes you've crossed over Then got totally krossed out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the force Of course it's the Method Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic and comin' for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin' at me brush, now bust it Styles, I gets buck wild Method Man on some shit, pullin' niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, drivin' Miss Daisy Out her fuckin' mind now I got Martin Swayze Is it real son, is it really real son? Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real And when I was a lil' stereo (Stereo) I listened to some champion (Champion) I always wondered (Wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! Hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (Test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (It's like that) Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope The only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke Off the set comin' to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin' from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin' through sickin' niggaz for they garments Movin' on your left, southpaw 'em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son, I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four Nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it 'cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin' 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw, when you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink absolute straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is chemical bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous car crashing, horn passing me Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you Is it real son, is it really real son? Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real I'll fuckin', I'll fuckin' cut your kneecaps off And make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin', cut your eyelids off And feed you nuthin' but sleepin' pills You motherfuckers So fuck the hoe (So) Fuck the hoe |
|||||
 |
|
3:09 |
|
||
|
from More Music From 8 Mile (8마일) [ost] (2003)
Basically, can't fuck with me
I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental Records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the king But niggaz is decaf I stick 'em for the cream Check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your cross color, clothes you've crossed over Then got totally krossed out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the force Of course it's the Method Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic and comin' for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin' at me brush, now bust it Styles, I gets buck wild Method Man on some shit, pullin' niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, drivin' Miss Daisy Out her fuckin' mind now I got Martin Swayze Is it real son, is it really real son? Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real And when I was a lil' stereo (Stereo) I listened to some champion (Champion) I always wondered (Wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! Hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (Test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (It's like that) Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope The only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke Off the set comin' to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin' from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin' through sickin' niggaz for they garments Movin' on your left, southpaw 'em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son, I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four Nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it 'cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin' 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw, when you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink absolute straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is chemical bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous car crashing, horn passing me Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you Is it real son, is it really real son? Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real I'll fuckin', I'll fuckin' cut your kneecaps off And make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin', cut your eyelids off And feed you nuthin' but sleepin' pills You motherfuckers So fuck the hoe (So) Fuck the hoe |
|||||
 |
|
4:11 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Enter The Wu-Tang 36 Chambers (1993)
Intro:
Shaolin shadowboxing, and the Wu-Tang sword style If what you say is true, the Shaolin and the Wu-Tang could be dangerous Do you think your Wu-Tang sword can defeat me? En garde, I'll let you try my Wu-Tang style Chorus: RZA Bring da motherfuckin ruckus Bring da motherfuckin ruckus Bring da mother, bring da motherfuckin ruckus Bring da motherfuckin ruckus Verse One: Ghostface Killah Ghostface, catch the blast of a hype verse My glock bursts, leave in a hearse, I did worse I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk Ya head rush, fly like Egyptian musk Aw shit, Wu-Tang Clan spark the wicks an' However, I master the trick just like Nixon Causin terror, quick damage ya whole era Hardrocks is locked the fuck up, or found shot P.L.O. style, hazardous, cause I wreck this dangerous I blow sparks like Waco, Texas Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef I watch my back like I'm locked down, hardcore Hittin sound, watch me act bugged, and tear it down A literate type asshole, songs goin gold, no doubt and you watch a corny nigga fold Yeah, they fake and all that Carryin gats but yo, my Clan Rollin like forty Macs Now ya act convinced, I guess it makes sense Wu-Tang, yo sewwwwwwwww, represent I wait for one to act up Now I got him backed up Gun to his neck now, react what? And that's one in the chamber Wu-Tang banger, 36 styles of danger Chorus Verse Three: Inspectah Deck I rip it hardcore, like porno-flick bitches I roll with groups of ghetto bastards with biscuits Check it, my method on the microphone's bangin Wu-Tang slang'll leave your headpiece hangin Bust this, I'm kickin like Segall, Out for Justice The roughness, yes, the rudeness, ruckus Redrum, I verbally assault with the tongue Murder one, my style shot ya knot like a stun-gun I'm hectic, I wreck it with the quickness Set it on the microphone, and competition get blown By this nasty ass nigga with my nigga, the RZA Charged like a bull and got pull like a trigga So bad, stabbin up the pad with the vocab, crab I scream on ya ass like your dad, bring it on... Chorus Verse Four: The Genius/GZA Yo, I'm more rugged than slaveman boots New recruits, I'm fuckin' up MC troops I break loops, and trample shit, while I stomp! A mudhole in that ass, cause I'm straight out the swamp Creepin up on site, now it's Fright Night My Wu-Tang slang is mad fuckin' dangerous And more deadly than the stroke of an axe Choppin through ya back *swish* Givin bystanders heart-attacks Niggas try to flip, tell me who is him I blow up his fuckin prism Make it a vicious act of terrorism You wanna bring it, so fuck it Come on and bring the ruckus And I provoke niggaz to kick buckets I'm wettin CREAM, I ain't wettin fame Who sellin gain, I'm givin out a deadly game It's not the Russian it's the Wu-Tang crushin Roulette, slip up and get fucked like Suzette Bring da fuckin ruckus... Chorus So bring it on...(X7) punk nigga! |
|||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Diciples Of The 36 Chambers Chapter 1 (2006)
Shaolin shadowboxing, and the Wu-Tang sword style
If what you say is true, The Shaolin and the Wu-Tang could be dangerous Do you think your Wu-Tang sword can defeat me? En garde, I'll let you try my Wu-Tang style [Chorus] Bring da motherfuckin' ruckus Bring da motherfuckin' ruckus Bring da mother, bring da motherfuckin' ruckus Bring da motherfuckin' ruckus Ghostface, catch the blast of a hype verse My glock bursts, leave in a hearse, I did worse I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk Ya head rush, fly like Egyptian musk Aw shit, Wu-Tang Clan spark the wicks an' However, I master the trick just like Nixon Causin' terror, quick damage ya whole era Hardrocks is locked the fuck up, or found shot P.L.O. style, hazardous, cause I wreck this dangerous I blow sparks like Waco, Texas I watch my back like I'm locked down, hardcore Hittin' sound, watch me act bugged, and tear it down A literate type asshole, songs goin' gold, no doubt And you watch a corny nigga fold Yeah, they fake and all that Carryin' gats but yo, my Clan Rollin like forty Macs Now ya act convinced, I guess it makes sense Wu-Tang, yo sew, represent I wait for one to act up Now I got him backed up Gun to his neck now, react what? And that's one in the chamber Wu-Tang banger, 36 styles of danger [Chorus] I rip it hardcore, like porno-flick bitches I roll with groups of ghetto bastards with biscuits Check it, my method on the microphone's bangin' Wu-Tang slang'll leave your headpiece hangin' Bust this, I'm kickin' like Segal, Out For Justice The roughness, yes, the rudeness, ruckus Redrum, I verbally assault with the tongue Murder one, my style shot ya knot like a stun-gun I'm hectic, I wreck it with the quickness Set it on the microphone, and competition get blown By this nasty ass nigga with my nigga, the RZA Charged like a bull and got pull like a trigga So bad, stabbin' up the pad with the vocab, crab I scream on ya ass like your dad, bring it on [Chorus] Yo, I'm more rugged than slave man boots New recruits, I'm fuckin' up MC troops I break loops, and trample shit, while I stomp! A mud hole in that ass, cause I'm straight out the swamp Creepin' up on site, now it's Fright Night My Wu-Tang slang is mad fuckin' dangerous And more deadly than the stroke of an axe Choppin' through ya back swish Givin' bystanders heart-attacks Niggas try to flip, tell me who is him I blow up his fuckin' prism Make it a vicious act of terrorism You want to bring it, so fuck it Come on and bring the ruckus And I provoke niggaz to kick buckets I'm wettin' cream, I ain't wettin' fame Who sellin' gain, I'm givin' out a deadly game It's not the Russian it's the Wu-Tang crushin' Roulette, slip up and get fucked like Suzette Bring da fuckin' ruckus [Chorus] So bring it on So bring it on So bring it on So bring it on So bring it on So bring it on So bring it on Punk nigga! |
|||||
|
|
3:27 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Tical (2000)
Basically, can't fuck with me
<i>[Verse One:]</i> I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the King But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the Force Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin at me bruh, now bust it Styles, I gets buckwild Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze <i>[Chorus:]</i> Is it real son, is it really real son Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real <i>[Interlude: Booster]</i> And when I was a lil stereo (stereo) I listened to some champion (champion) I always wondered (wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that) <i>[Verse Two:]</i> Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke off the set comin to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me* Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you <i>[horn sound of car racing by]</i> <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Outro:]</i> I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You motherfuckers (So??) So fuck the hoe Fuck the hoe (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...) |
|||||
|
|
3:10 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Tical (2000)
Basically, can't fuck with me
<i>[Verse One:]</i> I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the King But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the Force Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin at me bruh, now bust it Styles, I gets buckwild Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze <i>[Chorus:]</i> Is it real son, is it really real son Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real <i>[Interlude: Booster]</i> And when I was a lil stereo (stereo) I listened to some champion (champion) I always wondered (wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that) <i>[Verse Two:]</i> Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke off the set comin to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me* Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you <i>[horn sound of car racing by]</i> <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Outro:]</i> I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You motherfuckers (So??) So fuck the hoe Fuck the hoe (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...) |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Diciples Of The 36 Chambers Chapter 1 (2006)
src="../pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js">
</script> Basically, can't fuck with me Verse One: I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the King But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the Force Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin at me bruh, now bust it Styles, I gets buckwild Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze Chorus: Is it real son, is it really real son Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real Interlude: Booster And when I was a lil stereo (stereo) I listened to some champion (champion) I always wondered (wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that) Verse Two: Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke off the set comin to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me* Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you *horn sound of car racing by* Chorus Outro: I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You motherfuckers (So???) So fuck the hoe Fuck the hoe (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...) |
|||||
 |
|
3:09 |
|
||
|
from Def Jam 25: Volume 1 (DJ Bring That Back) (2008-1997) (2009)
Basically, can't fuck with me
<i>[Verse One:]</i> I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the King But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the Force Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin at me bruh, now bust it Styles, I gets buckwild Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze <i>[Chorus:]</i> Is it real son, is it really real son Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real <i>[Interlude: Booster]</i> And when I was a lil stereo (stereo) I listened to some champion (champion) I always wondered (wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that) <i>[Verse Two:]</i> Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke off the set comin to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me* Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you <i>[horn sound of car racing by]</i> <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Outro:]</i> I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You motherfuckers (So??) So fuck the hoe Fuck the hoe (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...) |
|||||
 |
|
2:59 |
|
||
|
from Missy Elliott - Under Construction [Explicit Version] (2002)
"One two three four five six seven eight nine!"
"Are we on the air?" Uhh, uhh .. {HA?} Uhh {HA?} uhh {HA?} Uhh, this is - uhh, a Missy Elliott - uhh, exclusive Uh-huh.. woo!! And I came to bring the pain, hardcore to the brain Ooh baby, what's your name? {HA?} I love the way you're spittin the game You made me change from thinkin all guys the same You the type of guy I wanna marry in months Got exactly what I want {HA?} And ain't no fakin the funk Your attitude is funk and you're makin me crunk (c'mon) *Yes it's real baby Got me so crazy Light my fire dirty Like the way you serve me Stimulate my body Crunk just like a party Ohh, you won't be sorry My papi, I'm yo' mami I'm in your life to come and let you explore {HA?} And take you on a tour The kind of guys that be talkin that noise Is the reason I ignore {UH-HA!} And you the one I wanna take to MEET MOMS "He's a rap superstar" {UH-HA!} I wanna be the one, you like I'm sure to do you right *repeat Is it real hon, if it's really real (let's chill) Maybe pop an X pill (how does sex feel?) Come and get your next thrill (you the raw deal) Yo I'm sayin if your man won't (Mr. Meth will) That's amore', all day, mind over matter And my forte' is foreplay, sex on a platter Have it your way, then who, serve you everything on the menu And all that freak shit that you into Sweet lady, you drive me half crazy Maybe, we can go half on a baby (on a baby?) Poppa got a brand new bag Hidden in the stash of his brand new Jag Lovely, kick your shoes off and get comfy We can bump uglies if you ain't got your monthly Yes I, like "American Pie" Tell 'em M-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-Y *repeat M-E-T-H-O-D, Man M-I-S-S-Y, I am I came came to bang bang the boogie I see you lookin to bang out my nookie You want my cookies I baked for you rookies Work hard they want me to bang bang and stick me If you want my nookie you got to come quickly M-E-T-H-O-D is ya wit me? Mr. Meth is ya wit me? |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Diciples Of The 36 Chambers Chapter 1 (2006)
src="../pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js">
</script> (Ol' Dirty Bastard) Word up, I bust that nigga ass right now! Ain't none of them niggas can't fuck with me! What? Nigga you could never fuck with me, my nigga! Dirt fuck you up right now! What? What? What? I bust your motherfuckin ass boy! I ain't no motherfuckin joke, you know who you talkin to (Word up, bust that nigga ass, word up) Ol' Dirty Bastard, I fuck you up right now Yeah, what? What? (Shame on that nigga yo He ain't sayin nothin, fuck him!) I'm the one-man army, Ason I've never been tooken out, I keep MC's lookin out I drop science like girls be droppin babies Enough to make a nigga go cra-a-azy Energy buildin, takin all types of medicines Your ass thought you were better than Ason, I keep planets in orbit While I be comin with teeth, bitin more shit Enough to make ya break and shake ya ass 'cause I create rhymes good as a tasty cake, mix This style, I'm mastered in Niggas catchin headaches, what? What? You need Aspirin? This type of pain, you couldn't even kill with Midol Fuck around get sprayed with Lysol In your face like a can of mace, baby Is it burnin? Well, fuck it, now you're learnin how, I don't even like your motherfuckin profile Give me my fuckin shit, CH-CH-BLAOW! Not seen and heard, no one knows You forget, niggas be quiet as kept Now you know nothin Before you knew a whole fuckin lot Your ass don't wanna get shot A lot of MC's came to my showdown To watch me put your fuckin ass lo-o-ow down As you can go, below zero without a doubt I've never been tooken out by a nigga, who couldn't figure Yo by a nigga, who couldn't figure Yo by a nigga, who couldn't figure (Brooklyn Zoo) how to pull a fuckin gun trigger I said "Get the fuck outta here!" Nigga wanna get too close, to the utmost But I got stacks that'll attack any wack host Introducin, yo fuck that nigga's name My hip-hop drops on your head like ra-a-ain And when it rains it pours, cause my rhymes hardcore That's why I give you more of the raw talent that I got will riz-ock the spot MC's I'll be bur-r-rnin, bur-r-rnin hot Whoa-hoa-hoa! Get me like slow-mo with the flow If I move too quick, oh, you just won't know I'm homicidal when you enter the target Nigga get up, act like a pig tryin to hog shit So I take yo ass out quick The mics, I've had it my nigga, you can suck my dick If you wanna step to my motherfuckin rep' CH-CH-BLOAW! BLOAW! BLOAW! Blown to death You got shot cause you knock knock knock "Who's there?" Another motherfuckin hardrock Slackin on your mackin 'cause raw's what you lack You wanna react? Bring it on back... (Chorus (5x): Ol' Dirty Bastard) Shame on you, when you step through to the Ol' Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo! (Outro: Ol' Dirty Bastard) What? My nigga... Shame on ya... |
|||||
 |
|
- |
|
||
| from The Man With The Iron Fists (철권을 가진 사나이) [ost] (2012) | |||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Method Man - Tical 2000: Judgement Day (1998) | |||||
|
|
3:24 |
|
||
| from Method Man - Tical 2000: Judgement Day (1998) | |||||
|
|
4:12 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Enter The Wu-Tang 36 Chambers (1993)
Intro: Raekwon the Chef, Method Man
What that nigga want God? Word up, look out for the cops [Wu-Tang five finger shit] (Cash Rules) Word up, two for fives over here baby Word up, two for fives them niggaz got garbage down the way, word up KnowhatI'msayin? (Cash Rules Everything Around Me C.R.E.A.M. get...) Yeah, check this ol fly shit out Word up (Cash Rules Everything Around Me) Take you on a natural joint (C.R.E.A.M. get the money) Here we here we go (dolla dolla bill y'all) Check this shit, yo! Verse One: Raekwon the Chef I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side Staying alive was no jive At second hands, moms bounced on old men So then we moved to Shaolin land A young youth, yo rockin the gold tooth, 'Lo goose Only way, I begin to gee off was drug loot And let's start it like this son, rollin with this one And that one, pullin out gats for fun But it was just a dream for the teen, who was a fiend Started smokin woolies at sixteen And running up in gates, and doing hits for high stakes Making my way on fire escapes No question I would speed, for cracks and weed The combination made my eyes bleed No question I would flow off, and try to get the dough all Sticking up white boys in ball courts My life got no better, same damn 'Lo sweater Times is ruff and tuff like leather Figured out I went the wrong route So I got with a sick ass click and went all out Catchin keys from across seas Rollin in MPV's, every week we made forty G's Yo nigga respect mine, or anger the tech nine Ch-chick-POW! Move from the gate now Chorus: Method Man Cash, Rules, Everything, Around, Me C.R.E.A.M. Get the money Dollar, dollar bill y'all Verse Two: Inspector Deck It's been twenty-two long hard years of still strugglin Survival got me buggin, but I'm alive on arrival I peep at the shape of the streets And stay awake to the ways of the world cause shit is deep A man with a dream with plans to make C.R.E.A.M. Which failed; I went to jail at the age of 15 A young buck sellin drugs and such who never had much Trying to get a clutch at what I could not... could not... The court played me short, now I face incarceration Pacin -- going up state's my destination Handcuffed in back of a bus, forty of us Life as a shorty shouldn't be so ruff But as the world turns I learned life is hell Living in the world no different from a cell Everyday I escape from Jakes givin chase, sellin base Smokin bones in the staircase Though I don't know why I chose to smoke sess I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed But I'm still depressed, and I ask what's it worth? Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth Who explained working hard may help you maintain to learn to overcome the heartaches and pain We got stickup kids, corrupt cops, and crack rocks and stray shots, all on the block that stays hot Leave it up to me while I be living proof To kick the truth to the young black youth But shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin beer And ain't trying to hear what I'm kickin in his ear Neglected, but now, but yo, it gots to be accepted That what? That life is hectic Outro: Chorus -- 4X Niggas gots to do what they gotta do, to get a bill YaknowhatI'msayin? Cuz we can't just get by no more Word up, we gotta get over, straight up and down Chorus -- 3X Cash Rules Everything Around Me C.R.E.A.M. get the money Dolla dolla bill y'aauhhhaaaauhhhhahhhauhhhhll, YEAH |
|||||
|
|
4:12 |
|
||
|
from More Music From 8 Mile (8마일) [ost] (2003)
I grew up on the crime side
the New York Times side Staying alive was no jive At second hands moms bounced on old men So then we moved to Shaolin land A young youth yo rockin the gold tooth 'Lo goose Only way I begin to gee off was drug loot And let's start it like this son rollin with this one And that one pullin out gats for fun But it was just a dream for the teen who was a fiend Started smokin woolies at sixteen And running up in gates and doing hits for high stakes Making my way on fire escapes No question I would speed for cracks and weed The combination made my eyes bleed No question I would flow off and try to get the dough all Sticking up white boys in ball courts My life got no better same damn 'Lo sweater Times is ruff and tuff like leather Figured out I went the wrong route So I got with a sick ass click and went all out Catchin keys from across seas Rollin in MPV's every week we made forty G's Yo nigga respect mine or anger the tech nine Ch chick POW Move from the gate now Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all It's been twenty two long hard years of still strugglin Survival got me buggin but I'm alive on arrival l peep at the shape of the streets And stay awake to the ways of the world cause shit is deep A man with a dream with plans to make CREAM Which failed I went to jail at the age of 15 A young buck sellin drugs and such who never had much Trying to get a clutch at what I could not The court played me short now I face incarceration Pacin going up state's my destination Handcuffed in back of a bus forty of us Life as a shorty shouldn't be so ruff But as the world turns I learned life is hell Living in the world no different from a cell Everyday I escape from Jakes givin chase sellin base Smokin bones in the staircase Though I don't know why chose to smoke sess I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed But I'm still depressed and I ask what's it worth Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth Who explained working hard may help you maintain to learn to overcome the heartaches and pain We got stick up kids corrupt cops and crack rock sand stray shots all on the block that stays hot Leave it up to me while I be living proof To kick the truth to the young black youth But shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin beer And ain't trying to hear what I'm kickin in his ear Neglected but now but yo it gots to be accepted That what That life is hectic Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Diciples Of The 36 Chambers Chapter 1 (2006)
I grew up on the crime side
the New York Times side Staying alive was no jive At second hands moms bounced on old men So then we moved to Shaolin land A young youth yo rockin the gold tooth 'Lo goose Only way I begin to gee off was drug loot And let's start it like this son rollin with this one And that one pullin out gats for fun But it was just a dream for the teen who was a fiend Started smokin woolies at sixteen And running up in gates and doing hits for high stakes Making my way on fire escapes No question I would speed for cracks and weed The combination made my eyes bleed No question I would flow off and try to get the dough all Sticking up white boys in ball courts My life got no better same damn 'Lo sweater Times is ruff and tuff like leather Figured out I went the wrong route So I got with a sick ass click and went all out Catchin keys from across seas Rollin in MPV's every week we made forty G's Yo nigga respect mine or anger the tech nine Ch chick POW Move from the gate now Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all It's been twenty two long hard years of still strugglin Survival got me buggin but I'm alive on arrival l peep at the shape of the streets And stay awake to the ways of the world cause shit is deep A man with a dream with plans to make CREAM Which failed I went to jail at the age of 15 A young buck sellin drugs and such who never had much Trying to get a clutch at what I could not The court played me short now I face incarceration Pacin going up state's my destination Handcuffed in back of a bus forty of us Life as a shorty shouldn't be so ruff But as the world turns I learned life is hell Living in the world no different from a cell Everyday I escape from Jakes givin chase sellin base Smokin bones in the staircase Though I don't know why chose to smoke sess I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed But I'm still depressed and I ask what's it worth Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth Who explained working hard may help you maintain to learn to overcome the heartaches and pain We got stick up kids corrupt cops and crack rock sand stray shots all on the block that stays hot Leave it up to me while I be living proof To kick the truth to the young black youth But shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin beer And ain't trying to hear what I'm kickin in his ear Neglected but now but yo it gots to be accepted That what That life is hectic Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all |
|||||
 |
|
4:12 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
I grew up on the crime side
the New York Times side Staying alive was no jive At second hands moms bounced on old men So then we moved to Shaolin land A young youth yo rockin the gold tooth 'Lo goose Only way I begin to gee off was drug loot And let's start it like this son rollin with this one And that one pullin out gats for fun But it was just a dream for the teen who was a fiend Started smokin woolies at sixteen And running up in gates and doing hits for high stakes Making my way on fire escapes No question I would speed for cracks and weed The combination made my eyes bleed No question I would flow off and try to get the dough all Sticking up white boys in ball courts My life got no better same damn 'Lo sweater Times is ruff and tuff like leather Figured out I went the wrong route So I got with a sick ass click and went all out Catchin keys from across seas Rollin in MPV's every week we made forty G's Yo nigga respect mine or anger the tech nine Ch chick POW Move from the gate now Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all It's been twenty two long hard years of still strugglin Survival got me buggin but I'm alive on arrival l peep at the shape of the streets And stay awake to the ways of the world cause shit is deep A man with a dream with plans to make CREAM Which failed I went to jail at the age of 15 A young buck sellin drugs and such who never had much Trying to get a clutch at what I could not The court played me short now I face incarceration Pacin going up state's my destination Handcuffed in back of a bus forty of us Life as a shorty shouldn't be so ruff But as the world turns I learned life is hell Living in the world no different from a cell Everyday I escape from Jakes givin chase sellin base Smokin bones in the staircase Though I don't know why chose to smoke sess I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed But I'm still depressed and I ask what's it worth Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth Who explained working hard may help you maintain to learn to overcome the heartaches and pain We got stick up kids corrupt cops and crack rock sand stray shots all on the block that stays hot Leave it up to me while I be living proof To kick the truth to the young black youth But shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin beer And ain't trying to hear what I'm kickin in his ear Neglected but now but yo it gots to be accepted That what That life is hectic Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all |
|||||
 |
|
3:59 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams (2007)
[Intro: kung fu sample from
"8 Diagram Pole Fighter"] Today I'll talk about kindness Justice, faith and kindness I want you to listen carefully Kindness and faith, are the foundation Without them, we can't become good people And with justice, we know we can lead a good life And how can I be a good man then, eh? Well, first of all, you have to practice honesty Uhmm... Keep your temper, never lose control of yourself Keep control... Be patient, if you learn to do these things, you can master anything [Chorus: The Persuasions "Gypsy Woman" sample] Out of nowhere, there came a caravan This was around a campfire light A lovely woman in motion Her hair was as dark as the night [Method Man] Cruising on the interstate, just follow while I innovate Too many try and imitate, medallion like a dinner plate Front and get ya dinner ate, chinchilla for the winter, wait I'm trying to bring the "Sexy Back" like Timbaland and Timberlake Spitting like a calico, kush from a Cali hoe Tell that joker "tally ho", put shots in that Denali, yo RZA you know how we go, on them 20's, that's how we roll And I don't eat berries but eat a Berry like Halle though The game criminal, my, my chain figaro My, my dames pigeon-toed, I'm still the same nigga though Uh, kid rock a fitted low, still got a wicked flow And I'm like Barry Bonds on anything that RZA throw [Ghostface Killah] On anything that RZA throw, Ironman's invisible I left my chick for cheating on me, now that bitch is miserable Popping bottles, painting hella Wallo's on my physical We gon' have a ball, might as well pick a testicle Purple haze festivals, smoke a nigga like a bowl F**k a coma, now the state you laying is a vegetable You wanna see me? Like you ain't checkable You like a CD, I burn you and I wrecked a few... [Chorus] [Interlude: kung fu sample (RZA)] Only God, has lept into avenged mind And can, distinguish good, from evil Hahaha (Aiyo Cappa) [Cappadonna] We gotta get more cake together, so we could branch out Preserve land, get a boat and a ranch house Call me a dreamer, but I hustle for real You thought that I fell off but now I'm attacking the field All in Chicago, grinding, putting it down Crush blocks of MC's, I ain't playing around Yo, you heard me on The Bassment, giving it to 'em Fake dudes hiding theyself, but I could see through 'em Diggler, what? I'm trying to live and raise kids While you throwing up ya sign, I'm laying 'em down, kid Plus, I'm back home now, doing my thing Thirty dollars to Medina just to cop me a ring [Chorus 2X] [Outro: kung fu sample] A good friend, holds his drink Bad company makes bad wine! Drinking among friends Red wine means a good life A few drinks bring comfort Two drinks are enough Money can't buy courage Riches mean nothing to us Brilliant, a display of genius |
|||||
|
|
6:53 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Enter The Wu-Tang 36 Chambers (1993)
Intro: Raekwon the Chef
[Can it be that it was all so simple then] KnowhatI'msayin, take you on this lyrical high real quick Nineteen ninety three exoticness KnowhatI'msayin, let's get technical Where's your bone at, get up on that shit aight Yo!! Verse One: Started off on the island, AK Shaolin Niggaz whylin, gun shots thrown the phone dialin Back in the days of eight now, makin a tape now Rae gotta get a plate now Ignorant and mad young, wanted to be the one Till I got (BAM! BAM!) thrown one Yeah, my pops was a fiend since sixteen Shootin' that (that's that shit!) in his blood stream That's the life of a crimey, real live crimey If niggas know the half is behind me Day one, yo, growin all up in the ghetto Now I'm a weed fiend, jettin the Palmetto In Medina, yo no doubt the God got crazy clout Pushin the big joint from down South So if you're filthy stacked up Betta watch ya back and duck Cause these fiends they got it cracked up Now my man from up north, now he got the law It's solid as a rock and crazy salt No jokes, I'm not playin, get his folks Desert Eagle his dick and put 'em in a yolk (AAH!) And to know for sure, I got reck and rip shop I pointed a gat at his mother's knot (Yo, Rae, don't do that shit, man! Don't do that shit! <gun shots>) Fuck that <Chorus> <Raekwon> Dedicated to the winners and the losers (Can it be that it was all so simple then?) <Ghost Face Killer> Dedicated to all jeeps and land cruisers (Can it be that it was all so simple then?) <Raekwon> Dedicated to the Y's, 850-I's (Can it be that it was all so simple then?) <Ghost Face Killer> Dedicated to niggas who do drive-bys (Can it be that it was all so simple then?) <Raekwon> Dedicated to the Lexus and the Ax (Can it be that it was all so simple then?) <Ghost Face Killer> Dedicated to MPV's phat! (Can it be that it was all so simple then?) <Raekwon> Nigguh, yeah, yeah! Verse Two: Ghostface Killer Yo! Kickin the fly cliches Doin duets with Rae and A, happens to make my day Though I'm tired of bustin off shots havin to rock knots Runnin up in spots and makin shit hot I'd rather flip shows instead of those Hangin on my living room wall My first joint, and it went gold I want to lamp, I want to be in the shade Plus the spot light Gettin my dick rubbed all night I wanna have me a phat yacht And enough land to go and plant my own sess crops But for now, it just a big dream Cause I find myself in the place where I'm last seen My thoughts must be relaxed Be able to maintain Cause times is changed and life is strange The glorious days is gone, and everybody's doin' bad Yo, mad lives is up for grabs Brothers, passin away, I gotta make wakes Receivin all types of calls from upstate Yo, I can't cope with the pressure Settlin for lesser The god left lessons on my dresser So I can bloom and blossom, find a new way Continue to make hits with Rae and A Sunshine plays a major part in the daytime [Peace to mankind Ghostface carry a black nine, nigga Word up It's on like that] [Can it be that it was all so simple then] |
|||||
 |
|
4:22 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - The W (2000)
Wait, hold up, chill, what's that son?
Damn.. nigga got fucked, shit, huh?! By his back, watch nigga run Seven the center of your eight point sun Hold tight grip on the +God-U..Now+ you best be careful! Can't dodge two (??) aimed at your domepiece +Father-U-C-King+ police!! Somethin in the slum went rum-pum-pum-pum Somethin in the slum went rum-pum-pum-pum Yo Rae it's been a long time son since we bust Gunclap +Glaciers+, ran the world and snatched paper Return to the 36th Chamber Proceed with caution as you enter We have an A.P.B., on an MC Killer Looks like the work of a Masta!! Yo somethin in the street went, BANG BANG Makin it hard for you to do your THANG THANG Somethin in the street went, BANG BANG.. Up in the boss game wildin, money for grabs I ain't fuckin with crabs, out of state copped two labs Hopped two cabs, back on the Ave. Stab you with the vocab, catch me at the big dough rehab Tryin to re-up, keep my feet up Snake niggaz in the cut, hold the product Time is up, no luck, heat start to bust Niggaz you can't trust, dealin with lust Seen him at the ballgames with James Somethin in the street went, BANG BANG Makin it hard for you to do your THANG THANG Somethin in the street went, BANG BANG Makin it hard for you to do your THANG THANG Somethin in the hole went {Click Click} The boxcutter went {Click Click} Somethin in the hole went {Click Click} The boxcutter went {Click Click} These are the bones, bones from the grave of Houdini G-Deini, razoni noodles sprinkled on your embry' Climb like the deficit, profits, death threats to Israel slid through Bethlehem bong on one wheel Syringes, rubber bands, needles, the 60's Granddaddy Caddy was coppin 6 G's Begosh all that Oshkosh jumpers Pink Champelle, brown paper bags, wall to wall bumpers These (??) camera guys, cause, turn your eyes Sweat on the hammer fly, ways, of the Samurai Newsflash bulletin, Gods on the prowl We full again, ruff men scuff Timbs Sonic bionic lens, RZA console Is it Bush or the Dole, front row of the superbowl Black gold in my soul, on a hoe stroll Don't go boy you on parole you don't know? Someone in the back went, CLACK CLACK Money is stacked, now bust your gun, CLACK CLACK Someone in the back went, CLACK CLACK Money is stacked, now bust your gun, CLACK CLACK Made 'em throw they hands up, but then lay flat Rat pack eat up, the average alley cat Prepare for the impact when we contact Known to drop backs that crack your hard hat Must I show and prove, trust I, bust I Make your head spin like chrome 20's on the buggy-I Benz Who contends, Wu like the Superfriends Who's your rhymin hero? Wu-Tang rules again Someone in the back went, CLACK CLACK Money is stacked, now bust your gun, CLACK CLACK Someone in the back went, CLACK CLACK Money is stacked, now bust your gun, CLACK CLACK Yo somethin in the street went, BANG BANG Makin it hard for you to do your THANG THANG Somethin in the street went, BANG BANG.. Somethin in the hole went {Click Click} The boxcutter went {Click Click} Somethin in the hole went {Click Click} The boxcutter went {Click Click} Somethin in the slum went rum-pum-pum-pum Somethin in the slum went rum-pum-pum-pum |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
| from Wu-Tang Clan - Think Differently Music : Wu-Tang Meets The Indie Culture (2005) | |||||
|
|
3:02 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever (1997)
(Raekwon)
Shake them niggaz Scary hours no money out, smash the Guinness Stout Play the outfield, Lucille, switched cracks on shields She's a rich fiend, sacrifice her fam, shift them niggaz To Queens, Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans Hit the cell phone, regulate with well known tone A Wally kingpin, who also slam and strike edition Whattup, Corleone smoke the bone Tone phone me Whattup he tried to slang there, address him with chrome only Grady with the gray beard, transport for him Rockin Nike at? Rastafarianburg, pipin that Switchin Benzes, ten carat nigga with gold lenses Frontin like he's sittin on a lump he's sittin on junk You wanna pull a heist, draw guns and robberies You wanna rock rep, step in yellow Wallabies Names arraigned, the century fox, little glocks Them niggaz with stocks, wail on your blocks Rich lifestyle, small like an ordinary white child But right now, Son is still shine, shed light now Breakdown, liquidate God, fuck it grab the nickel plate Spencer for Hire, tension when we mention Dryer He's a slave cop, behave pop Blue suits who bay stop us blow that cat At the Purple Haze spot (Method Man) I remember stickin fiends at the one-six-ooh When we was starvin, duckin five-oh, payin em dues Times is hard in the slums I'm from, they got us barred in We warrin and cage dodgin, rippin and robbin Got the NARC sabotagin, slippin cracks in Your camoflougin, now you snitchin on the squadron That's somethin niggaz can't pardon City overrun by young gun with bad intention, and Wu-Wear garment So I see no need to mention, the potency Of a sting from a killa bee, kickin the battery Out the back of them wisecracks Distorted for your get high you hijack These friendly skies ain't for you, they for me and mine This the year of the grimy nigga, ragtime Keep these niggaz on the run, peep my Clan emblem Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's comin from Catch us swimmin with these sharks now, you rap villains (I feel the same way you niggaz feelin) We feel the same way you feelin, let it be known (let it be known) (*Together*) What the blood clot you niggaz dealin, you crash dummies Cash rules, still don't nuttin move but the money (Ghostface) Aiyyo strongarm that kid right there with wavy hair Billy Johnson, snatched him out his whip in Times Square Took his Pumas, nameplate, dude lost weight Summer eighty-eight, started a fight, that can't wait Ask Dorothy, same kid pussy up in Marsey Blazin that Tad Rossi, up in the Marquis He lost like a hundred ounces, Jake rushed his houses Had him on the porch, ass no trousers This souped up, individual stuck, the new stuff Same kid cryin on the stand with Judge Cuffner Kissed him with art num it's three to nine style Before he left he flashin his face like Denzel Richard Dale took his Beaver, off the wall pullin his whip Mussy dropped and split his wig with the heater His safe butt was all fucked up, as he had me laughin God you see how he was laid out, in the grass With dirt in his mouth, Slim woke him up told him he wild out Blood leakin from his teeth he smiled like he gunned out Big bolo, stackin his shit financed a Volvo He copped his shit from a small, coffeeshop in SoHo He still pussy, he sell his dust up on the Lower East Posin like he rappin out... |
|||||
|
|
3:02 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Forever [Explicit Version] (2001)
(Raekwon)
Shake them niggaz Scary hours no money out, smash the Guinness Stout Play the outfield, Lucille, switched cracks on shields She's a rich fiend, sacrifice her fam, shift them niggaz To Queens, Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans Hit the cell phone, regulate with well known tone A Wally kingpin, who also slam and strike edition Whattup, Corleone smoke the bone Tone phone me Whattup he tried to slang there, address him with chrome only Grady with the gray beard, transport for him Rockin Nike at? Rastafarianburg, pipin that Switchin Benzes, ten carat nigga with gold lenses Frontin like he's sittin on a lump he's sittin on junk You wanna pull a heist, draw guns and robberies You wanna rock rep, step in yellow Wallabies Names arraigned, the century fox, little glocks Them niggaz with stocks, wail on your blocks Rich lifestyle, small like an ordinary white child But right now, Son is still shine, shed light now Breakdown, liquidate God, fuck it grab the nickel plate Spencer for Hire, tension when we mention Dryer He's a slave cop, behave pop Blue suits who bay stop us blow that cat At the Purple Haze spot (Method Man) I remember stickin fiends at the one-six-ooh When we was starvin, duckin five-oh, payin em dues Times is hard in the slums I'm from, they got us barred in We warrin and cage dodgin, rippin and robbin Got the NARC sabotagin, slippin cracks in Your camoflougin, now you snitchin on the squadron That's somethin niggaz can't pardon City overrun by young gun with bad intention, and Wu-Wear garment So I see no need to mention, the potency Of a sting from a killa bee, kickin the battery Out the back of them wisecracks Distorted for your get high you hijack These friendly skies ain't for you, they for me and mine This the year of the grimy nigga, ragtime Keep these niggaz on the run, peep my Clan emblem Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's comin from Catch us swimmin with these sharks now, you rap villains (I feel the same way you niggaz feelin) We feel the same way you feelin, let it be known (let it be known) (*Together*) What the blood clot you niggaz dealin, you crash dummies Cash rules, still don't nuttin move but the money (Ghostface) Aiyyo strongarm that kid right there with wavy hair Billy Johnson, snatched him out his whip in Times Square Took his Pumas, nameplate, dude lost weight Summer eighty-eight, started a fight, that can't wait Ask Dorothy, same kid pussy up in Marsey Blazin that Tad Rossi, up in the Marquis He lost like a hundred ounces, Jake rushed his houses Had him on the porch, ass no trousers This souped up, individual stuck, the new stuff Same kid cryin on the stand with Judge Cuffner Kissed him with art num it's three to nine style Before he left he flashin his face like Denzel Richard Dale took his Beaver, off the wall pullin his whip Mussy dropped and split his wig with the heater His safe butt was all fucked up, as he had me laughin God you see how he was laid out, in the grass With dirt in his mouth, Slim woke him up told him he wild out Blood leakin from his teeth he smiled like he gunned out Big bolo, stackin his shit financed a Volvo He copped his shit from a small, coffeeshop in SoHo He still pussy, he sell his dust up on the Lower East Posin like he rappin out... |
|||||
|
|
4:01 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Blackout! (1999)
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! |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
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! |
|||||
|
|
0:14 |
|
||
| from Method Man - Tical 2000: Judgement Day (1998) | |||||
|
|
0:14 |
|
||
| from Method Man - Tical 2000: Judgement Day (1998) | |||||
|
|
3:03 |
|
||
|
from Method Man - Blackout! (1999)
[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] |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
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] |
|||||
|
|
4:15 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Explicit Version] (2001)
[Hook: Madame D]
Woke up this morning, smoked some sticky green to get me started Choclate thai, all in my eye, I'm never broken-hearted Bang us in ya cars, bang us in ya Jeep, bang that shit retarded [Intro: 12 O'Clock (RZA)] (Bob Digi) Sun Zeini (P. Sunn) 12 O'Clock Two On Da Road on this (12 O'Clock) I love my brother to death (That old hip-hop, catch this) (Hot Nix', you know? Big tits) [12 O'Clock] I love my brother to death, nigga pussy to the rest Shared a pair of Guess and an Eddie Bauer vest A bitch named Celeste I met her when I was goin to cash a Def Jam check She had some big ass breasts I had to catch her like a shortstop on the Mets A nigga high off a dime from Gates and Best Remember grandmother live on Louis and Lex I remember Dirt Dog crashed his white Lex I remember me and Meth won a dice game against Ghost and Deck Remember Portland had Clyde Drex' Remember 12 O'Clock is a vet Big Dogs we put 'em to sleep, keep 'em on a leash I move like days in a week Niggaz don't know the face and names on my teeth Niggaz carry a cold piece, and separate the heat Ain't scared of the motherfuckin police [RZA] Yo, yo Guns jammed up, I'm cramed up in my lab Six niggaz, six bitches, two fifths and eight bags One toilet, three weedheads, an alcoholic And two niggaz hooked on pussy And in the corner, was this brother who would study his lessons And learned how operate the Smith and the Wesson Still cut class and played hookey Threw freshmens in garbage cans, gave 'em nookies Rolled the, back of the bus with a gun in his socks Big forehead, had ears like Spock He was mightier than a truckload of gats And bound to make a bitch cum in six minutes flat [Raekwon] What up kid? Stay livin Seen you look good, you look live in ya linen And you survived ninth innin The hood got us off the prop without women All my niggaz that ride that provide to the end of this [Madame D] Ain't nothin but the real, yeah Ain't nothin but the real Ain't nothin but the real, yeah Million dollar deals, rollin on Chrome Wheels [Prodical] Yeah, uh-huh, yeah (Ain't nothin but the real) This one's on P. Sunn, word up? Yeah, uh-huh We gamble the dice, remain humble, scramble through the jungle of life While the we rumble with the foul and trife Shots fired on the block in threes like Glen Rice Made men think twice about the sacrifice Black on white, write it for the world to hear Write it for my fam who not here who do care Glance and stare, why when you can't compare? From the bottom of my feet to the end of my hair Move rear, cop the blue steel bare, groove to the snare Bass and drums, see my face in the slums Pedia Brown, media surround my sound When you see me in the hood of ya town, respect my sound Sample with black, criminal, mechanical rap Assemblin hat, laced in a suit from Phat Two On Da Road, got them bitches screamin, "Who Dat?" Two with the plaques, two with the gats, it's like that [Hook] [Madame D] Two On Da Road, Bobby Digital He's a gangsta, yeah No, no, no, no, no, no Live it up, live it up Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no [Hook] [Outro: Prodical *over Madame D's singing*] Bang us in ya Jeeps Shaolin! Bobby Digital Uh-huh, Sunn who? Yeah Haha! Yeah! Get that money y'all Get that money y'all Get that money y'all Shout in pain Uh-huh, yeah Weed blazin, cocoa hazin, cocoa hazin |
|||||
|
|
4:15 |
|
||
| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Explicit Version] (2001) | |||||
|
|
4:15 |
|
||
| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Clean Version] (2001) | |||||
|
|
4:14 |
|
||
| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu-Tang Iron Flag [Clean Version] (2001) | |||||
|
|
4:00 |
|
||
| from How High (하우 하이) [ost] (2001) | |||||
|
|
5:03 |
|
||
| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
|
|
4:33 |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Enter The Wu-Tang 36 Chambers (1993)
Up from the 36 Chambers...
Heheh.. it's the Ghost..*Face*..*Killahh* Hehheheh Wu-Tang Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm The RZA, the GZA, Ol Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck, U-God Ghost Face Killer, the Method Man, Raekwon the Chef, the Master Killer Raw Desire, LeVon, Power Cipher Twelve O'Clock, Sixty Second Assassin, the 4th Disciple The Brand White K.D. the Down Low Wrecka, Shyheim AKA The Rugged Child Doo-Doo Wales, Mista Hezakiah -- better known as the Yin and the Yang The Tru Masta, Asan, DJ Skane, The Tru Robocop comin thru Scientific Shabazz, my motherfuckin man Wise the Civilized The Shaolin Soldiers, Daddy-O and Popa Ron Comin down from the motherfuckin South end of things Killa beez all over your fuckin planet Thirty-six chambers of death Three-hundred and sixty degrees of perfected styles Choppin off your motherfuckin dome... ...peace, and every fuckin borough Crooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, Staten Island The motherfuckin Bronx, killa beez.... The sword? C'mon, give him the sword *Clan in da front, let your feet stomp Niggaz on the left, brag shit to death Now hoods on the right, wild for the night Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to... The Wu is comin thru, the outcome is critical Fuckin wit my style, is sort of like a Miracle on 34th Street, in the Square of Herald I gamed Ella, the bitch caught a Fitz like Gerald -- -- ine Ferraro, who's full of sorrow Cuz the hoe didn't win but the sun will still come out tomorrow and shine shine shine like gold mine Here comes the drunk monk, with a quart of Ballentine Pass the bone, kid pass the bone Let's get on this mission like Indiana Jones, the GZA One who just represent the Wu-Tang click With the game and soul, of an old school flick Like the Mack and Dolemite, who both did bids Claudine went to Cooley High and had mad kids so stop, the life you save may be your motherfuckin own I'll hang your ass with this microphone Make way for the merge of traffic Wu-Tang's comin thru with Full Metal Jackets God squad that's mad hard to serve Come frontin hard, then Bernhard Goetz what he deserves *Repeat The response while I bomb that ass, "You ain't shit!" Your wack ass town had you gassed Egos is somethin the Wu-Tang crush Souped up niggaz on a stage get rushed I don't give a god damn, on the shows you did How many rhymes you got, or who knows you kid? Cuz I don't know ya therefore show me what you know I come sharp as a blade and I cut you slow You become so Pat as my style increases What's that in your pants ahhh human feces! Throw your shitty drawers in the hamper Next time come strapped with a fuckin Pamper How ya sound B? You're better off a quitter I'm on the mound G, and it's a no-hitter And my DJ the catcher, he's my man Anyway he's the one who devised the plan He throws the signs I hook up the beats with clout I throw the rhymes to the mic and I strike em out So it really doesn't matter on how you intrigue You can't FUCK with those in the major leagues *Repeat (x2) Hoods on the right Punks in the back... to what Niggaz on the left Hoods on the right Punks in the back, c'mon... to what ...let your feet stomp ...brag shit to death ...wild for the night (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu) (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu) (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu) Niggaz on the left, brag shit to death Hoods on the right, wild for the night Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to Clan in da front, let your feet stomp |
|||||
|
|
- |
|
||
|
from Wu-Tang Clan - Diciples Of The 36 Chambers Chapter 1 (2006)
Up from the 36 Chambers
Heheh, it's the Ghost Face Killahh Wu-Tang Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm The RZA, the GZA, Ol Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck, you-God Ghost Face Killer, the Method Man, Raekwon the Chef, the Master Killer Raw Desire, LeVon, Power Cipher Twelve O'Clock, Sixty Second Assassin, the 4th Disciple The Brand White K.D. the Down Low Wrecka, Shyheim AKA The Rugged Child Doo-Doo Wales, Mista Hezakiah, better known as the Yin and the Yang The Tru Masta, Asan, DJ Skane, The Tru Robocop comin' through Scientific Shabazz, my motherfuckin' man Wise the Civilized The Shaolin Soldiers, Daddy-O and Popa Ron Comin' down from the motherfuckin' South end of things Killa beez all over your fuckin' planet Thirty-six chambers of death Three-hundred and sixty degrees of perfected styles Choppin' off your motherfuckin' dome Peace, and every fuckin' borough Crooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, Staten Island The motherfuckin' Bronx, killa beez The sword? C'mon, give him the sword [Chorus] Clan in da front, let your feet stomp Niggaz on the left, brag shit to death Now hoods on the right, wild for the night Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to The Wu is comin' through, the outcome is critical Fuckin' wit my style, is sort of like a Miracle On 34th Street, in the Square of Herald I gamed Ella, the bitch caught a Fitz like Gerald- Ine Ferraro, who's full of sorrow 'cause the hoe didn't win but the sun will still come out tomorrow And shine shine shine like gold mine Here comes the drunk monk, with a quart of Ballentine Pass the bone, kid pass the bone Let's get on this mission like Indiana Jones, the GZA One who just represent the Wu-Tang click With the game and soul, of an old school flick Like the Mack and Dolemite, who both did bids Claudine went to Cooley High and had mad kids So stop, the life you save may be your motherfuckin' own I'll hang your ass with this microphone Make way for the merge of traffic Wu-Tang's comin' through with Full Metal Jackets God squad that's mad hard to serve Come frontin' hard, then Bernhard Goetz what he deserves [Chorus] The response while I bomb that ass, "You ain't shit!" Your wack ass town had you gassed Egos is somethin' the Wu-Tang crush Souped up niggas on a stage get rushed I don't give a god damn, on the shows you did How many rhymes you got, or who knows you kid? 'cause I don't know ya therefore show me what you know I come sharp as a blade and I cut you slow You become so Pat as my style increases What's that in your pants ah human feces! Throw your shitty drawers in the hamper Next time come strapped with a fuckin' Pamper How ya sound be |
|||||
|
