Redman Album

[Dr. Trevis] Redman wake up. Wake up Redman wake up.
(ba-ga-goom-ba-gi) This is album three, can you hear me?
(ba-ga-goom-ba-gi) This is Dr. Trevis, can you hear me?
(BA-GA-GOOM-BA-GI) You must stay focused, you must focus your mind
(BA-GA-GOOM-BA-GI) --> repeats 14 times to various jungle/bird sounds
--> Redman continues to chant, explosions are heard
Sound of heavy machinery, something crashing
More explosions and/or things crashing
Sounds get louder and quicker, drowning out chant
Sound of ripping/machinery, lion roars
More crash sounds, lion roars, chanting heard again
Lion roars, crash, machinery
[intro ends]

yah word up
Hooooaa, haha
haaaaaa ("Iz he for real he can't be" -- Rock, Leflah Leflour Eshkoshkah)
yah word up
Haha, hooooaa
haaaaaa ("Iz he for real he can't be")
yah word up
Hoooooaa, iz he 4 real
haaaaaa ("Iz he for real he can't be")
Haha, unbeknown, unbelieved
Hoooooaa, haha
haaaaaa ("Iz he for real he can't be")

Somebody light the fuse so I can bring bad news
To all these crews who can't NBA Jam with the shoes
That double shot Hennesee got my mind trippin
Drunk enough to start a campaign on ass kickin
With my nigga Keith who give assists like Scott Pippen
For MC derelict whippin, cap or cock twistin
Drop your money in the slot if your block don't got
a real representer cocked for action like my block got
Rhyme skills three and a quarter for them drop tops
Your caliber, straight up pussy who pop glocks
While I kick facts react on funky tracks
Give me room like the Hyatt while I run this jungle habitat
And if I snap get that monkey off my back
Me and mikes together roll tighter than Slick and Vance Wright
Toast to the real MC's that can feel me
And if your bitch ain't jumpin now then later on she will be
All these weak punk MC's kill me
They don't feel me, come to Jersey get jacked like Jill G

Hooooo, haaaaa ("Iz he for real he can't be") -- 4X

(W.. F.. D.. S..) Aiyyo, aiyyo check this out man
Hah, aiyyo hah-hah
Aiyyo aiyyo, hah-hah
Nahnah, aiyyo, aiyyo
Damn
I'm the bomb, ringin off all types alarms
My palms, be swift with the pen like Lynn Swann's
Aggravated assault, against an MC
Beat him down with the mic and all types of pedigrees
It's mad real in Da Bricks, plus I roll thick
You can quote this, I'm the Moby Dick of dopeness
Bitch, walk the walk if you talk the talk
I DK New Jerz, and DK-New York
I don't push a lot of vehicles, but I push a used one
With a tape deck, if it's feasible
Tell the truth, I don't own a Lex Coupe
But I get you souped when I rock respect due
I'sa nice nigga that wanna get diced
Slice the mic device like the body of Christ twice
E Double if you feel me hit me once
(A breaker one, a breaker two)
Cause trouble to you family and friends
Let me cut the bullshit, just hand me yo ends
Got caught out there cause you a Mack without 10
Punch you in your chin
The rucker, bringer, live from Hell, but stay
cooler than a double L
Turn a felony to a misdemeanor
Now the court subpeonaed me to get my act cleaner
Fuck that, still walk out holdin my strap
Blunt, grabbin my weiner

Now first of all I go for broke
Check the third quarter note, I make you feel like your water broke
Can't tell whether male or female
I fucked up your frame well, the monogram can't tell
All aboard my balls, cause my dick don't got a lot of room
for the rest of y'all
Grab on my pubics, let my music take flight
Rock indo and out-do, dick run in and out yo'
bitch, about nine inch up the clit
Can you feel me comin, yeah I usually make em shit
I shines MC's up for auction
So I can sell em on Saturday, Keith put the bat away
Let's lay in the cut, so we can break his whole anatomy down
and turn into an ass-kicking holiday
Word, I rolls with the Funklord
With more flavors than them motherfuckers on
them Benetton billboards
He's bleeding get the gauze
He shoulda knew Def Squad crew is who I kill for
Push the clip in, slide the top back
Make sure it's off safety, in case he wanna counteract
Shit like that get me vexed
So I crack your ass like corn while your bitch crack my Beck's

Hah-hah
One deuce! One deuce
Aiyyo, catch this picture, of me in the mixture
So you won't forget the, black Jack the Ripper
Sorceror offin y'all with techniques
A universal lingo, with the odd speaks
Control more blacks than Harlem week, freak
Smokin that leak at full peak
Peace to Greg Street, and underground radio technique
College radio, no I mack shit like Maceo
Yeah, the East coast West coast dick giver
I oughta be an alkie, the way I hit liver
Deliver, the milk to your door, real raw
Shit you never seen before
So when you come inside, and do the front
Watch the double-pump shotgun and please don't run
Relax your minds, let your concious be free
And get money, and G's and roll these trees

...
This is DJ SAYWHAT?? on this motherfucker.
Comin to you live from WFDS radio from da Brick City.
{*continued on "Welcome (Interlude)"*}

(DJ SAYWHAT??)
Our phone are open for all you high motherfuckers
At 1-800-DIKINYABOOTY
[Redman] Welcome
That's 1-800-dick-in-ya-boo-tay!!
[Redman] Welcome

*ringing phone is answered*
Aiyyo this is Mad Duke callin from Da Bricks
I'm on the block with Uncle Quilly and Leroy Sweetdick
gettin my smoke on, for you onionhead motherfuckers

Yo this PaceWon from the Outsidaz, dammmn!

Welcome to another nineteen ninety-six Funk Doctor Spock tape
As we take y'all minds on another journey, through the darkside
We uplift you! Def Squad force comin through with the ruckus
Jammin for all knotty-headed peasy motherfuckers, ahh
And for funky bitches, we got a funky thing for you

I said I gets down like that, who am I (Funk Doctor)
(as I kiss the sky)
I said I gets down like that, who am I (Funk Doctor)
(as I kiss the sky)

Bomb traum', funkier than Haitian underarms
Represent Jersey, the land of firearms
Hotwired cars, emptying cigars
Afros, mofo's, Omni's with momo's
It's nasty as I come my shit be douche
I used to be the chief instructor for Bruce
Choose your weapon -- A FATALITY
Line your crew up now -- BABALITY
In nineteen ninety-six bitch ass niggaz all in my mix
On some rah rah shit, get my rah rah dick!
Nuts alert, first sound de alarm on de expert
My network, operate sharper than a Gilette works
Off the corner style Blinds in Knightening Armor
About more Facts of Life than Tudy or Blair Warner
Chi-Town where you at (we got your back)
D.C. where you at (we got your back)
My crew Come Strapped like MC Eiht with nickel plates
Gettin mad Dead Presidents ask Lorenzo Tate
I'm, gettin loot rollin craps in the yard
Can't be scarred by media, SO FUCK THE MEDIA
Most MC's are terrible, unbearable
Couldn't get stupid if you were sliced cerebral
Ahh no need to... act like he's shittin
Man you're funnier than Ed Griffin, it's Red's kitchen
My infrared's missin, damn I'm slippin
I'm out of ammo, yo Crossbreed, stick the clip in

[Dr.Trevis like voice] Hah
(huh, hah, hah, hah, HAHHAH, hah)

Nineteen ninety-six
(hah, come on!)
Coming with the sickedest motherfuckers
in the perimeter
(huh, whooo! nineteen) You hit em with a newwwww
(ninety-six, nine six) tree, dick be fly, in your ass
(Dick! Di-dick, check)

[Redman]
Yo! Amazing grace how sweet the sound is of the fo' pound
To blast all these sound men that got the po' sound
Yippie-yi-yay, motherfuckers here's the show down
But since we're broke now with dope sounds now here we go now
Check the motion while I be puffin the pot-enent
Blow spots and urban networks with other experts
Plus this thing between my ear thinks clear
And the only thing it fears is the man upstairs
So fuck your bulletproof gear
If I decide to get your ass you better believe it's more than a blast
(boo-ya) More like rough paragraphs out Alcatraz
And ash, your staff, let the grime our your ass
Everybody's hustling with sons toting guns
When Reggie Noble's sprung we stick nuns that got funds
Bomb niggaz like they did in Oklahoma
Freez, you're froze, Def Squad UHH, case closed

[Crossbreed #1]
I be the, sneaky, second dimension, creepin through your sector
Have nectar, leaking out you wack rhyme stressers
Extra deez disease leave rashes on rappers
Makin MC's so feel the breeze of the Grandmaster
Packed with swift solid style structure
Simonizing MC's with the degree of street ruckus
Aiyyo who got guns? I split precise, spleen splitter
Return my physical presence to the borough of the hard hitters
I devour, night sun shower, menace last hour, weak man's last power
Body, the six four mind shotty
The one you handle, second dimension mind vandal
Laceratin your retina for tryin to see this
As I'm flowin through the prism of the X-3-D
See at forty belows I freak flows that burn your nose
When you inhale the verbal blows, case closed

[Chorus: Redman, Crossbreed]
Aiyyo, why the fuck you tryin to get funky on me nigga?
Aiyyo, why the fuck you tryin to get funky on me nigga?
Yo, don't you know, who I am motherfucker?
[Redman's the name fool]
That's my nigga!
Why the fuck you tryin to get funky on me nigga?
Aiyyo, why the fuck you tryin to get funky on me nigga?
Yo, don't you know, who they are motherfucker?
[Crossbreed's the crew fool]
They're my niggaz!

[Verse Three: Crossbreed #2]
Things ain't easy, cuz we be, strugglin day to day
A bunch of stressed black men with not really much to say
Twistin up some brown paper that we struggle just to get
With the deaf dumb and blind become mentally equipped
As I extend my pen to wreak havoc on paper
I execute and burn MC's like Absolut with no chaser
Strong as chemical the general with rhymes
Past wreckin mics, I make the earth shatter like the 7th sign
My drama bringer bring about a new order
I'm sending a plague through your town like God to Sodom and Gomorrah
Your deacon, my vocals actions got you speechless
Make gangsta niggaz wanna go home and talk to Jesus
No man alive could bend on we, beatin on rappers literally
X3D beez up on the streets dimensional trilogy
Got no love for foes, no respect for grimy hoes
Nuff said, X-3-D blowin up, case closed

Pick it up, pick it up (4X)
If you find a bag of weed on the floor motherfucker
What the fuck you gon do
Pick it up, pick it up (3X)

[Redman]
While I crack a cold Beck's and keep the hoes in check
The double-S vest nigga wreck the discotheque
Sit back relax and while my Squad kick tacks
Then tap your man back and be like "Did you see that??"
Ahh yes, comin from the North South East West
Hold your nose and take a deep breath, recess
we bless, mics, three times a day
Three times a night, it all equals subliminal sequels
Strictly laughing at MC's
Lyrics for years that run more than ten deep
Niggaz be like "Ahh he changed his style up"
Shut the fuck up, ya still a dick-ridah
It's nine-six so get with it
Peep that back-in-the-day shit when that other Squad was Hit-tin
Listen, must we forget, I originated
all that wild shit, that rrraahh rrraaoowww shit
That jump up and ready to fuck shit up now shit
Brick City!! Is where I get down kid
Peace to all my buddah smokers on Prince
Fuck what ya heard, Brick City runs shit

PPP got the glocks and tecs
And Def Squad always got some fly shit on deck
Say what? Got some fly shit on deck
Say WHAT? Got some fly shit on deck
PPP got the glocks and tecs
And Def Squad always got some fly shit on deck

[Redman]
First of all, MC's be on my balls, straight up
Pubic hairs and everything, lick the whole plate up
Bay Area, roll up your Las Vegas
To all MC's, I love it that you hate us
Drop skills that might send wind chill factors
Back through Patterson, J.C. and Hacken-sack
Step uncorrect and get blackened
The assassin, find da MC's by the jazz men
I don't tote guns I tote funds
While you still puzzled how my antidote runs
Your whole vocabulary's played out, admit it
Still wack if it came out my mouth and I spit it
You remind me of school on a Sunday
No class, beatin all King's down
doin over seventy, in a Hyundai, blast
Give em a good reason to open Alcatraz
Back, nobody got the Red shook
Been a weirdo everysince the doctor said PUSH
Def Squad skills make it hard to overlook me
That's why them hardcore promoters still book me
You shook G... word up... hah hah...

If you see a bag of weed on the floor motherfucker
What the fuck you gon do
Pick it up, pick it up
If you see a bitch passed on out the fuckin ground
What the fuck you gon do
Pick her up, pick her up
I keep it fly y'all
Fly fly y'all (5X)

[Redman]
Aiyyo, don't ride the dick of these real MC's
We pull Joints like Spike and blow crews to degrees
Then we buy G's with a half a pound of dope MC's
We bag for cheese just to get weed
Smoke indoneez I'm milky like Magnese
Oh-seven-one-oh-three, rest them car thieves
Guzzlin quart for sports of all sorts
Nonchalant spark buddah on the front porch
at courts, F-U-N-K-D-O-C
S-P-O-T, feel the Solo type remedy
Then freeze.... hah, ha-hah
Where was I? Oh yes
Sippin on Cristal with fingers up your bitch dress
Don't play close cause jealousy make folks act loc
Another nigga smoked from impression
Second guessin my verbal weapon, you're lettin
Spit, sixteen bits, come equipped
And I still walk around with the hooked up
Motorola flip on my hip, fuck the government
Drop shit, it's a microscopic topic
How I stay mo' bent than McDonald arches
And uptown got the la-la spots
And bad ass hoes with 54-11 Reeboks
But still, I walk around with the grill
Cause niggaz be blinded by this hip-hop shit for real
I ain't havin that, I'm clappin shit
Fuck this rappin shit, I cause accidents
To any, MC who wonder what got in me
To get busy, it's simply Ginger and Remi
It don't stop, Def Squad crew is hot
Fillin up your brain with supreme octane, and it's on
*static from radio surfing*

[white reporter]
Thanks Bill
This week on NIN, Niggers In Newark
We're gonna take you through some glorious weed spots
that my camera crew and I had a chance to visit
during our stay in Da Bricks
Although we suffered minor setback this week
when our TV satellite van was stolen
We managed to get around best way possible
We had chances to see spots like
Hawthorne Ave, Hayes Homes, South Orange Ave
Avon Ave, 19th Ave, Chancellor and Bergen
19th and One-Duke; hey if you look closely right now
there's someone about to go for their drugs
or as they would say, stash
Hey, hey buddy, you about to sell some drugs?

[Redman]
Aiyyo man get the fuck out! *blam blam blam*

This here, is the telephone line
of one of the many top notch weed sellers out of Newark
Ladies and gentlemen, what I will try to do
is tap into the line, and hear an actual drug deal in progress
Shhh...

[Verse One]
Aiyyo, I got a slight problem I smoke weed too much
Knees buckle the -uck up when I'm splittin my dutch
Back up back up! Ain't nobody hittin for free
It's just E Doubl-E, Keith Murray, and me
It cost twenty if you're down with it
Aiyyo son I ride around with my hooptie tinted
to ride around blitted
Cause I be feenin for that pookie
I smoke the good shhh, save the backyard boogie for all groupies
And I be, smokin up the hotel lobby
Between mo' sheets than the Isleys, I'm high G
I'm holdin it down for the B-Rrrah-I-C
K, blaze, tell you to get bluhh politely
(Hit the funky if you're riding around gettin blitz)
Ask me if I love the rap game -- I, I'm loving it
Cause I can do what the OWW/-uck I feel is real
Blaze the poot with D. Don and tell UHH to get the dillz

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
I smoke on and on on, ya don't stop
I'm gettin mad -ucked up and ya don't stop
To all my real dogs, all my real pals
who ain't smokin, get the -uck owwwwt

[Verse Two]
I just love tokin, blackin out like Tame in the open
Of course I got the raw dog no need to stick your nose in
Gave you a straight up shotgun when we was smokin
Froze you so fast -- you looked it like Madonna Vogue-in
AwwwwuhhhhH! I got the shhh to get your whole click high
We can get high, but act funny and I'ma whip out
And they gon' whip out, and blow notes like Michel'le
Cause you tried to jump the cipher and it goes THISSAWAY

[Chorus]

[singing] Smoke buddha, smoke buddha...

[E Dub] Microphone check one two
Aiyyo, you ready to get down man?
[Red] Yo, whateva man
[E Dub] You ready to get drunk as fuck?
[Red] Whateva man
[E Dub] You, you sayin somethin?
[Red] Whateva man
[E Dub] Aiyyo
[Red] Whateva man
[E Dub] Check it, Kool V

(I keeps it bangin, keep it swangin
Mike type of sangin) Ohh-la-la-la! (So what cha sayin)

[Verse One: Redman, Sermon]
Yo, I'm smokin herbals till it hurts you
I keep your daughter way out past her curfew
Hard far from commercial
(So what cha mean nigga)
We don't give a fuck when we smoked out
In the land that's doped out [it's like that?] no doubt
From this bomb weed, I cock from the streets
Get you open like buttcheeks, from girls who be freaks
Aiyyo, can I be SWV?
You the One nigga
Rap Shogun, yes E the one
Yo, I'm rollin with a forty pack of niggaz
Get my weed from Branson cause his sack's bigger
Yo give me dap nigga
What I clap lyrically tap call back
Ferocious causin comatoses to collapse
So chinky eyed I see people wavin on a map
I make it hotter than your thermostats (beep beep beep beep)
Bomb MC's with rough megahertz so call me
Funk Doctor verbal starburst, lyrical expert
Your boombox better form a union
Cause I leave your circus overworked, word bond
Niggaz front like they want it
But I be in the five hundred with E steadily gettin blunted
Damn nigga you cool at what you spittin
So why you holdin the blunt so long politickin
Huh, I ace them blunts with the technician
of electrician, I don't got a pot to piss in
But still spend my last on hyrdroglycerin
I keep it live no jive rollin Dutches
that's Masters like the Furious Five
I, keep your crew chinky eyed, for bitches actin dog
(Can you hit it from the back?) Why not, while we toke on this

(woman moaning) (ohhh daddy... aiyeee)
[Sermon and Red harmonizing]

[Red] Yo, you ready to roll this weed up?
[E Dub] Whateva man
[Red] You ready to knock this nigga out?
[E Dub] Whateva man
[Red] Yo, you ready to get this chedda?
[E Dub] Whateva man
[Red] You ready to start this shit off?
[E Dub] Whateva man

[Verse Two: Redman]
I smoked with a lot of college, students
Most of em, wasn't graduatin and they knew it
You know the weed slang? Yeah boy I speak it fluent
I light your college dorm with my entourage from Newark
Bigger they come, harder they fall
That goes for, knuckleheads, MC's, pussy walls and all
I lit my first L before I started to crawl
I got my ass whupped when I had my first brawl
But things changed since I was twelve years old
I specialize in wreckin mics and area codes
Now, PPP the kinda niggaz that'll bug witcha
Smoke bud witcha, later on stick a sluginya
Everything that's like green ain't the bomb bitch
I got different forms to make you lose your calm bitch
Read my lips, you ain't hittin unless you got
Ten on it, get on it, or get the fuck out my cypher

[Red] You ready to roll this weed up?
[E Dub] Whateva man
[Red] You ready to rob this niga?
[E Dub] Whateva man
[Red] You ready to fuck bitch?
[E Dub] Whateva man
[Red] You ready to guzzle this liquor?
[E Dub] Whateva man

(E Dub harmonizing again)

[No lyrics]

(Them bitches swear they fly...)

"We on fire tonight, and the place is lookin steamy.." -> Busta Rhymes

[Redman]
Hahha
Now everytime I grab the mic I always start shit up
Sharper than your double-edger, watch me cough shit up
Live and direct, respect it to the underground connect
Pah!! I'm wreckin any MC you select
Yo E, load me in your gun, light the flares
Give me forty-eight bars, and I go out like gays at Billy Bear
Wear and tear, I'm wreckin for the Bricks is where
Jump in my way and get your body splattered everywhere
Conjunction junction what's your function
It's that nigga who's so swift I could lose a compass
Step into jams, with seven niggaz in a Land
And forty motherfuckers in some fucked up caravan
Drop the farenheight back down to zero
Bring Heat to the streets like I'm Pacino and DeNiro
Raw dog material, grand imperial
Talk to my shotty nigga, my ears ain't hearin you

So take heed to what I'm saying
Cause tonight's the night, and me and my nuccas ain't playing

Now do I look crazy? Deranged, maybe?
You shot first, your glock burst, but it graze me
Now time for lyrics, put up your guns
And watch me get this shit hoppin like the West was won
Got that lyrical chicken feed, for all chicken heads
Crowd your Rap City committee, like I'm [Big Leads]
Most bigger than them Melendez brothers
You need Cochran when you're fuckin with Judge Red
Put your fingers up if you love hash and cash
I been that way since Ike Turner was kickin Tina ass
Hookers ridin dick, like I'm a motorcycle
You wanna shine bitch? Let me simonize you
I make sure your vision blur, till you don't know what occurred
Until I black out every nerver
Foul women get served as chicken head hors d'ouerves
I drop your tops like your heads was convertibles!!
Hah, if you still look up in the sky I'm still high
All the way live like Lakeside
Wann die? E (whattup son), you got this beat pumpin
The way I feel niggaz ain't leave until they up in somethin
Pack my dutch like the niggaz in the county
Dayrooms, stay tuned, for Doc Illuminati
Up around them big butt freaks is where you find me
(Martini and Rossi, Asti Spumante)

So take heed to what I'm saying
Cause tonight's the night, and me and my nuccas ain't playing

To my people in the back, if you're not the wack, say
Don't stop, the body rock
To my people in the front, if you're tokin on blunts, say
Don't stop, the body rock... aoowwwwwowwwww
I'm too strong for you to listen
I started spittin, that's why the brick niggaz be lickin
They stay on magazine written equipments
And lyrics I got em by the shipment, where your bitch went
I'm smokin leaky out the Lec-y, fatal
My Squad steps with the ultimatum, true dat
My muzak, move crowds, like down the hill moved crack
For those who stepped on toes, I want my shoes back
Buddy, bringin money to your girl
for your little daughter like I'm Cutty
Twenty dollars a pop to dub me, I bug G, quote it
I see you notice how I leave microphones corroded
Hahahahaha, your staff not up to par
You raw, you're more like Zsa Zsa Gabor
Call deep niggaz, keep the gas pedal floored
And I pump the funk to keep a room and board

[Intro: Redman]
Hahahahahaaa
follow... just do what ya feel and I'ma follow
I'ma follow...
Just do what ya feel and we gon' follow
Just do what ya feel and I'ma follow
Just do what ya feel and I'ma follow
Haha, Meth-Tical

[Method Man]
Who wanna flip with the acrobatic
From ground zero all the way to attic, what we be smokin, Tical
The resevoir is now open
I swim the English Channel backstrokin, you don't know me or my style
We hold court and blow trial
You catch 'cal when you browse through my X-Files, who be next now
Man's down, hands down
Hold ground by yo' side when it go down, I dedicate this next dart
to my fucking heart
Little Meth he the best part, now walk with that one, word
Time Time 4 Sum Aksion
Dreamin bout Toni Braxton, blowin her back out like Bob Backlund
I'm throwin wrestlin holds
Tag team with Funk Doc, we in funk mode, take yo' best shot
If it don't hip it don't hop
If it don't quit it don't stop, that's the life

[Redman]
I be the super-lyrical individual I be splittin through
that Teflon material to knock Big Ben off of schedule
Better move with a set of tools
I be doin it to mics when I'm a, heterosexual
I load the mic then cock, drop it like three-quarters
when I slaughter don't get, caught in the water
Cause the Brick's got it's own World Order
Leave your bitch in shock like the third rail caught her
Styles stay deeper than orca, I float the seven seas with ease
Did more drugs than pharmacies
So call me that lyrical Genovese, you can't compare
Get you steppin like stairs, frats, sororities
Don't make me bring it on back I fuck up the majority
of niggaz lookin hard at me, I Port 'em like Authority
And when my nigga Meth shine
out the inner How High mobile rollin three dimes at a time
(Redman and Method Man still... "hiiiigh hiiiiiiiiigh")
It's that Jersey representer
Get hit from the bottom to your head when you enter

[Method] Word...

[Redman] Just do what ya feel and I'ma follow (repeat 3X)
Funk Doc break it down

[Redman]
Hah.. yo, suck my dick out of animosity
The velocity will fly that head and freeze yo' camps like pottery
To give lobotomies to all you rap colonies
And shunt your million dollar investment, to economy
Impossibly might be the one in black leather
Name tag sayin "Caution when wet by the track wetter"
The hash spreader, I love the grimy shit
Even my girl did grimy shit to me and I went back with her
Three years for carrying a loaded handgun
But it's forever when a nigga [chik-chik BLAAAOW] and he lands one
to your cranium
That red dot on your forehead it's not cause you Arabian
(Yo watch you say to him!)
You caught up in a tight situation
I should start erasin your whole organization for makin
wack tunes while my whole platoon rock the basement
You couldn't come close if I gave you my bookin agent
or producer, royalty points twelve shot loaded Luger
Even a crowd to get you souped up - you're still wack
I peel caps, on the regular
Destroy MC's et cetera, creep like The Predator
Fuck you, your label moms and yo' editor
Give you two to the jugular, blood be spreadin
all on my shirt, the king of the flirt shittin
Bitches hit me off more than New Edition
(Tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet)
I make them pigs heart skip a beat from the steel physique
So Iron Lung (one me gun done)
Get on the mic and break em off with sumthin sumthin

[Method Man]
We moonshine and grow crops
Purchasin the handhelds with the sho' shots, it got me spittin
these slugs at my competition, in rap sessions
U-A-P ain't got no weapon, you lip professin
Next in, line, parental discretion advised
these explicit, street linguistics
Better than yo' momma biscuits, we bomb shellin
I might know but ain't tellin, too bad you missed it
Johnny, Dangerously Blaze another enemy made another due paid
Color-safe bleach so I don't fade
Scar your mental with my double edged blade, razor sharp
get yo' bandaids hold that
Like E said, Get the Bozack
Show them wack niggaz where the do's at
On the case like I'm Kojak
Kissin the grits on that Flo bitch
Flip scripts take LOOONG shits - Raider Ruckus
One, I come with premeditated redrum
Gingivitis to your filthy ass gums
Bottom line either get down or get done
Motherfucker

[No lyrics]

East Coast, West Coast..
All my country, funky, brother, motherfuckers

[Verse One]
To my, no good niggaz, and my, no good bitches
Sorry if I left somebody leavin out with stitches
Seems y'all too bold for ya britches
Enslaved your mind like cotton pickers for runnin wit some rotten niggaz
I get raw to the core with hardcore metaphors
Resevoir Dog style, truly yours
Yes, I be the slug up in your chest
Then you wonder why you can't feel the full strength of ciggarettes
My nationality is, brutality
I got the gun up under your leather nigga so walk casually
You'd be surprised how much info you can get
For a bottle of crack to find yo' punk ass and yo' kinfolks
Plus, that crew you run with is butt
I was dusted one day when I made your man choke up
Rappers comin to New Jersey and be gettin fucked up
Talkin about where they from and shit when dem sons ain't runnin shit
and go off a BIT if you do a show in da Bricks
You'd swear you was fly and how we bring so much turbulence
I keep your nervous level high nigga
You better kiss your son and daughter, tell em bye nigga
When we creep

[Verse Two]
I give respect to all my woolly niggaz with the Rolex
Shinin briquettes, flashin cash and dumpin Moets
Especially when my royalty check is late, I don't hesitate
I scoop up Keith, and see who's flashin at the Palla-
-dium, hide your weed niggaz cause here I come
Lookin bummy for low profile, so loud MC's overlook me
I slip the bartender some more
Just to tell me [how much cash and Dom P you pour]
Huh, I should start robbin rappers in the industry
If we ain't clickin then I'm engineerin your injuries
Forty-eight tracks of automatics and facts
Lyrically splat-datted till your mentality blacks
And I don't give a FUCK if you did thirty bids
Still I bring Ecstasy like I'm the rapper Jaleel
Blaow blaow blaow, lickin shots for your fuckin
mind, I got you niggaz duckin out like I'm one-time
Or five-oh, po-po, I drive hoes nutty
Like I be doin security at my live shows
Your A&R is a punk, he got you gassed
when I brutally smash any contender in my weight class
Aiyyo Twinz yo this nigga got jewels
(hold that nigga while I rob this fool)
When we creep

Due to technical dificulties beyond our control
Reggie Noble's stinkin ass will not be performing with us

(K-Solo) Erick Sermon, keep keep it on
Def Squad, Erick Sermon, Redman keep keep it on
K to M Keith Murray keep keep it on
Keep keep on, ya don't stop
Keep keep it on, and ya don't stop
Keep keep it on, and ya don't stop
K-Solo, Redman, ya don't stop
Erick Sermon, Keith Murray ya don't stop

[K-Solo]
I X'd ya amateur, damage ya, have fools jumpin off
cliffs grabbin their ass cheeks yellin GERONIMO
It ain't a problem at all when K solve
Three-hundred and sixty degrees rhymes or boulevards
are charged, by my entourage, who put
the Ram in Dodge, bas cla in bumba claat
Maintain, few remain in the game
So I remain focused and pop's the main aim

[Redman]
Well it's the Funk Doctor Spock, the pon cock lyricist
My mentality's so def yo I ain't even hearin this shit
Biscuits be cockin back when I be comin
I guess they heard how I be takin MC's out by the hundreds
Wanted, for two million and a body alone
And use the microphone as my accomplice
Scientist, field-trippin, thinkin
What the fuck is this funky fungus that growed among us

[K-Solo]
Sprayed a few, shank a few, rap crews say they shamed too
But can't hang two, like we do
Fuck them, they better bow slow
This rhyme'll cold hit em, real quick cause I'm K-Solo
Battle any dude, this retifuge I'm in cruise
See what the better vet, could do, to you undouche
you three groups, four punkses at a time
I box two and knock em out at the drop of a dime

[Redman]
The long faced murderer
Servin over two billion motherfuckers a day like Mickey D's circular
Workin a, shifty hour like a burgular
My crew herbin ya, like we never even heard of ya
Odds are evens, that I'ma be the one creepin
My new niggaz check the flows of the major deacon
The bazaar, the rap non-superstar
When I step up I pump volume like rah

[K-Solo]
My afro blows in three-hundred sixty degrees
So this makes me, the light skinned Richard Roundtree
Vocabularies very, loquacious
And gregarious, pump that too, go grab the dictionary
Fly word that we flip on the M-I-K-E mike
My crew be like, this style's hype
Wrong's the opposite forget the bullshhhh
To rhyme like the K-Solo, you need more than a soul kid

[Redman]
Come closer, while I lock it down like I'm supposed ta
You battle me, you won? You might of, but then you woke up
My turbulence will make peanut butter chunk up
Call me tha Brick City, Stock Cock Broker
Y'all niggaz is fools, playin with hood moves
You couldn't total my amount if you sung I Missed You
Dissed you dismissed you yeah I fixed you
Let your girl suck on the shit that I piss through

Haha... haha
Keep keep it on (5X)
Yo what we doin son?
Knockin niggaz the fuck out!!

[Intro]
Original rude bwoy... on your scene
Haha, ha ha ha!
Everybody light your blunts, get your smoke on
Hahah
All you bitches drop your drawers... witcha stinkin ass (stinkin ass)
Just roll that weed (roll that weed) just roll that weed (roll that weed)

[Verse One]
Aiyyo, yes it's me the MC Grand Royal
Spittin that Newcleus I suggest you Jams On It
I'm not a role model I cracks the Beck's bottle
Smoke blunts, play pretty MC's as sex models
So inhale exhale what you smell?
Derail the frail blind MC off my trail
If he use braille, see I never been touched
Regulate the street tactics then parlay in the cut
Uhhahhh, lay back and hit this while I shit this
Flip this, get some ass flow at long distance
And plus I pack nine inches in my britches
And keep an instant lit for the funky ass bitches
Newark, New Jersey's on the map, ?comprende?
And confrontations start from the blunts and the Reme
And if an-y, MC out there wanna test
Call my boy Poppa C to put a slug in your vest

Chorus: [from _Whut? Thee Album_; "Tonight's Tha Night"]

Check, I walk around the street with the black tec nine
By the waistline, kickin the hype shit
So turn the volume up a notch
And watch the ba-bump, ba-bump, make your speakers pop
(repeat 2X)

[Verse Two]
Owwww, shit I'm just one hip nigga
Shit is off the hook when my crew is in the mixture
What I deliver, over tracks and rivers
Is making your lungs collapse and quiver, it's the
PPP foundation in your ass
We be the bomb like that Oklahoma blast
Then outlast, a few clowns, sounds
Raps, stay bein the mack like Dru Down
Ask me what I smoke and I say, "It's the method!"
Funk off the hook I leave shit disconnected!
What's the name of that town rollin up trees?
[Jersey smokin up the bom ba zee!]
It don't stop, you better move slowly
I make that chest wet and cosy
Then dip lowkey like OG's
Then inject that antidote to make you OD
You know a better flower get the dough G and show me
I bet you I make em more pussy than Jonsy *meow*
And show em How High I am just from the nosebleed (How High)
I keep it Naughty By Nature
Kick that rugged shit that Maybelline could make-up, lace up

[Interlude]
(Yeah Funk Doctor, represent one time for all the blunt smokers)
Smokin weed
(Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, it's how we do)
Let me hear you go ooooohhhh! (ooooohhhh!)
Smoke lalala (smoke lalala)
Let me hear you go ooooohhhh! (oooohhhhh!)
Smoke lalala (smoke lalala)

[Verse Three]
Funk Doctor, got your ass locked down proper
Let me next blast derelicts, binaca
I'ma Star at War, smoke blunts, don't Chew-bacca
The head banger boogie for the marijuana shoppers
Lace the tracks with stacks of artifacts
Make the police arrest me for givin the cardiac
Cause I'm the shitter, headbanger non-quitter
Twenty blunt a day nigga, Landcruise whipper
I represent, commence to beat an instrument
Who's next to get that ass bent ten percent
I make you boo pass off your jewels you lose cause
(I am so cool... cool... cool...)
React opponent, I Got Five On It
Met some hoochie, now I got fifty-five on it
With two Coronas, I dominate my opponents
To the hardcore niggaz, keep on! (motherfucker)

[Chorus]

Yo, hard beats like this keep my mentality raw
I G off C 4 lyrics to blow off them Lex door
My tex-ture be the kind that explore
MC's then blow em out, metaphor after metaphor
I'm more wetter than your boy bigger
So how you figure you can fuck with this rap unemploy nigga
I should own a fly bitch house and a Benz
But I got chickenheads criminals and broke friends
that love to get in, keep the seventeen spinnin
Pull out from my jaw linin, commence to split end
Brains and body parts that motion couldn't picture
Cause when I'm shittin niggaz hit mo decks than a skipper
Mr and Mrs Howe, MaryAnne and Ginger
Gilligan, you need the Professor to take the rigger
waters out I got orders to kill em softly
I wouldn't leave a trace if I died and police chalked me
Who's the Boss G you better radio the walkie talkie
For the Fatal Attract MC's that stalk me
Got a big dick and your bitch click
When I flip this I got more work than a olympic gymnast
Bust it, I cut the mustard, on any track
Milkier than Similak when I'm next up to bat
("Redman is on the mic and I'ma..."
"Dope motherfucker, yeah, you best ax somebody" -- Snoop)

(Yesh yesh y'all, and you don't stop -- Sermon 8X)

Fuck the talk I walk whatever I claim to do
Knock a mule on her ass and turn her pussy black and blue
You couldn't run up if your Fighter was Virtua
I'm a round-the-clock lyricist, I sleep in my work boots
It's a Thin Line Between Love and Hate
It's a thin line between the trigger and the finger of a thirty-eight
Deaths by far, my rap repatoire
be the art of murderin makin it hard for you to spar
We can chill and puff the ganja, but don't be mad when the
Funk Doctor Spock smoke it with your baby mama
Get off my dick and tell your bitch to come here
Male groupies gettin shaky when I come from the rear
Hah, that get on your nerve neighbor that play the
music loud as fuck three in the mornin off a paper
With mad Zul in the L-S-C
In the downtown area, scannin the perimeter
All my boos with the open toed shoes
If you ain't gettin that pussy eaten right, let me show you
Then let you taste these, this Brown Fox said
Ain't No Nigga like the -- Funk Doctor Spock G

(Yesh yesh y'all, and you don't stop -- Sermon 4X)

As I dive into the crowd
I wanna see who the fuck gettin loud
Who da fuck runnin off at dey mouf?
I let my nigga Fifty Cent knock that ass out
Word bond, bitches talkin bout pourin out Cristal
and Dom P they better stick to Sade
Blackin out whylin, smackin out weaves
Break niggaz cheap ass chains and medallions
You're just a part time sucker in the game
Shit is real motherfucker start namin names
And if you name my name I whoop ass like Steven Seagal
Give you Under Siege 2 without the fuckin train
Let your brains hang from the 808 bang
And if I wrecked your cipher then my Squad is to blame

(Yesh yesh y'all, and you don't stop -- Erick Sermon 12X then fades)

We'll be right back with some more funk shit
for all you stankin asses after we pay these bills

[Redman]
It goes one for the mind and two for the money
Who dat wit skull tattooes and his nose runny
It's me, that funky MC, the Rrr-ah E
Indubitably, I'm Jersey down to Mitentry
Officer, you're hawkin the, ninety-three Landcruise
When it's real criminals, you should be watchin for
Get off my dick for what you don't got
Plus you probably never licked a shot on your block
Walkin to my car witcha nine out the holster
Put your hands on the steering wheel like ya sposed ta
I cooperate don't give the redneck no hassle
Because too many mistakes be happening to black folk

[Chorus]
I said what the fuck are you lookin 4?
Can't a young man make money anymore?
Hah hah, leave ya butt naked...
I said what the fuck are you lookin 4?
Can't a young man make money anymore?

[Redman]
Aiyyo stash that weed up while me and the cop is riffin
Damn I knew I shoulda got that stash box built-in
But it's alright cause me and my niggaz roll tight
We all think alike, we jump out whoever packin pipe
Don't they know who's the freak from the East?
I get faded like Chong and Cheech without bleach
And started spittin game 'fore these cops start to reach
on these creeps, showin mentality from the streets
Even though we had a half a pound by the seats
My peeps never tweek, we handle shit when there's heat
Since one cop was white the otha was a brotha
I pulled out my tape and front page of the cover
of The Source, told him me and Janet's on tour
Broke it down to who's my boss and who I rap for
Plus them niggaz, EPMD
Put me D, now I'm runnin with the Green Eyed B
A-N-D-I-T, and Def Squad camp
Here's your Def Jam tickets and your autograph
Now haul ass, I got a meetin bout seven
Basically I'm saying bye bye like Guy

[Chorus]

[Redman]
My license, been suspended, for about five years
The system got my ass in the jam
Can't even ride to see my fam in Alabam'
I get petrified everytime I see the man throw the lights on (woop woop)
The mic's on so I stress it
Shit I'm haulin ass before I start undressin
Niggaz on they knees with they hands on the top of the
heads while the Feds crack jokes with the glock in ya
Don't get me wrong I know a lot of cool cops
That'd let me go if I had two glocks and oowops
But, I don't, so, I keeps it, real
The five hundred series with deep dish peels
Quick, my bitch, stash, two clips, between two her tits
before the cops fuck with the Rrr-ah
I'm a nigga of today a nigga of tomorrow, beyotch!

[Chorus]

To my people in Kentucky
rock rock on word is bond
Newark New Jersey
rock rock on word is bond
Atlanta Georgia
rock rock on word is bond
Connecticut
rock rock on word is bond
To my people up in Queens
rock rock on word is bond
Bri-donx in the house
rock rock on word is bond
Virginia's in this bitch
rock rock on word is bond
San Francisco
rock rock on word is bond

Yeah, bitch ass niggaz rock this!

Look, up in the sky (SOOP-soop...)
It's a bird (SOOP-soop...)
IT'S A PLANE!! (SOOP-soop...)
Nah motherfuckers (SOOP-soop...)
Hahaha

[Verse One]
I was, flyin through the motherfuckin sky
With my blunt full of lye, boom-ba-zee on five
Code name beez the Soopa-Man cock my Luger
Blast on state trooper, I'm on the run G
I've got these hoes spreaded, from Japanese to diabetics
Toes stay painted because of my foot fetish
You damn right, they had to ban me from eatin pussy all night
W-W-F and then just
slammin in the rope like Sean Mike
I can't be touched bitch, I disco in kryptonite
Shit I'm broke as hell
I had to buy all my girls fifty-fo'-eleven Reeboks at wholesale
Almost got caught boostin out of Bodell's
Bitches on my coattails like they coat rails
Can't even go in a jam without a bitch grabbin my hand
and squeezin my ass sayin "Youse the man!"
That's who the fuck I be
I got a, college degree, on bomb-zee and wreckin MC's
Makin shit happen like Lil' Cease
I come from a land of fontum leaf, bark from trees
that stick in your hand, and lakes rollin sea-weed
Criminals be up to no good
So I tuck a heater
Bulletproof suit still in the fuckin cleaners, but anyways
I bumped into my neighbor Johnny Blaze
Told me there's a bitch up the block who got more cock than AK's
The bitch just moved in, in building 210
Right next door to the Fantastic Four, and the Penguin
Good lookin Johnny, five-oh's right behind me
Let me act like I know and get ghost
Tuck in my Nina-Ross, get my cape and shades
Now I'm off with the Soopaman Three antidote

("While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse")
Cause I am so cool
("When I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggaz hit the deck")
Cause I am so cool
("Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore")
Cause I am so cool
("Raw to the floor, raw like Resevoir Dogs")
Cause I am so cool...

Aiyyo word up *cough cough cough hack*
*sniff* to make a long story short
*cough cough cough* and shit, I went
to the bitch house, and this what the fuck happened

[Verse Two]
Aiyyo, knock knock, "Who is it?"
"It's the Soopa, here to pay that ass a visit
Heard you wasn't givin up your pussy
So I got the right dick to get with
Where yo' man at bitch?" "He's out of town flippin biscuits"
"Well open up the do' den, before I start unloadin
on your pussy from here and leave it swollen"
"Aiyyo how I know it's you?" "Aiyyo check my credentials"
"I eat yo' gun lead and shit out number two pencils
I ate a ton of dog shit ain't never got sick
Bitch I even know how many keys your man flip
I'm low down and dirty, but not insane
I know all these pussy ass cops by their first name
Smoked a pound of Purple Rain and kept control
Bitch I was the third nigga on the grassy knoll
And you askin me, how you know it's the Soopa
Open the door, I just blast on state trooper"
She opened up the door, and I walked in
She grabbed the hammer, and nailed it till I'm locked in
I said, "Yo whassup bitch? You must be trippin
You must wanna see how this thirty-eight be spittin"
"Nah nah boo, it's my ex-boyfriend, he be buggin
He can't take it no more than I don't wanna fuck him
I was gonna get this nigga Faride to snuff him"
"Well if he come back through, I'm not talkin I'm bustin
Zip my zipper down bitch and start suckin
Get your anus wet for long dick fuckin"
"Oooh, I like the way you talk, just Put It In My Mouth"
"Yeah, and I'ma keep that shit in when I'm comin"
Fucked for thirty-six minutes and twelve seconds
"Hit it from the back yo" oh yeah bitch no question
Turn that ass around, she had tattoos of names on her back
She said, "I keep track"
I started readin her back I couldn't believe
I read one name it said EPMD
I turned her ass around I said no it couldn't be
It was the J-to-tha-A-to-tha-N-to-tha-E
Her pussy walls grabbed my dick so I'm stuck
So I burnt that ass from that blunt hash that I lit up
"Owwwww!!" She jumped up, puffed up, started yellin
I smacked her, cracked her, put her in a full nelson
"Okay, okay, okay, okay, I give up
Besides Soopaman Luva, I think I hear my nigga"
Aiyyo car pulls up, he steps up *skreech* and stick his keys in
The door opened, I snatched him up for no reason
Gave him a two piece with a biscuit, laid him out
Oh shit, it was that nigga Parrish Smith!

Nineteen ninety mother fuckin six
That's that shit though
Get the motherfuckin Squad packed
We got to pull these shoes out like carpet, word is bond
Test the crew with the guns and let's get this shit on

Why, must I be like that? Why, must I pack the gat?
On my left, niggaz be rollin with the ruckus
Ready to get deep bust rounds upon some suckaz
Heard PPP and LOD is a bunch of crazy motherfuckers
Journey to the land is on
The winner of the spittin bomb marathon
The fuck you up lyrathon, whatever you choose
prepare to lose that title
Turnin vital situations suicidal, my idols, is my Uncles
who started smokin weed outta bibles
Gave me a puff when I bust my first rifle
Men-estration cycles, I give bitches
Bring your craziest nigga, I'll give stitches
Whateva, go crew for crew, blow for blow
Bang your headpiece and sniff the snow off your hoe
I keep it rollin...

Ask yourself man
How ugly do you have to be to be a hardcore MC?
Niggaz be fooled by my plaques and my light skin complexture
My whole texture is bombin, destroyin da schools of the wack
From the Land of the Lost, you get tossed
Listen to my veloc(ity), my crew's comin off
Yeah, more sneaky than casino switches
Diggin ditches for all Moskino bitches
Clockin decimal figures, I'm gettin out diggers
Now my choice of truck is a Land
cause a Landcruise much bigger
It pack two to three more niggaz
Damn I hate a golddigger
Yeah, gimme that microphone
I make opponents shit bricks like Tyson's home
I keep the jacked cellular phone blown in three zones
Love seafood and keep my nine millimis chrome
So it can shine up your dome
When I proceed to give you what you need and clear spots like Sea Breeze
Wreckin your ass armaggedeon style
Twenty four seven while
My crew chin check your profile
(Rollin...)

I'm the master of disaster, super rhyme maker
Grimy by nature, database maker
Play em out like Sega, Saturn
Blow your blocks in patterns for about nine acres
Testes, crew wearin bulletproof and double S's
Karl Kani down, camoflouge can't hide the sounds
of a fo' pound (boo-yaa)
Givin you Six Flags, bustin merry go rounds
But my crew stay ill with that unreal appeal
I be the raw water, my cheek bones outta have gills
below like the opera
Smooth on the trigger for all you block cockers
I be the key to criminology
Blast and rotate enemies at three buck sixty
Pick me, as your Senator
Take the dove from your battlefield son, fuck Pat Benatar
Run, head for the hills
Back in the day, these niggaz rolled up on me with
the trunk filled with Bomber Brooklyns, sheeps and quartervilles
Aiyyo take that shit, aiyyo Money snap the grill
Body caught chills as he ate this nine mil
Mine kills two but my nine was sign sealed
And ready to deliver, but Money had me too close
to reach for toast, soon as that nigga blink I broke ghost
Dash back to South Orange Ave with dollar bill to smoke dope
I keep em rollin...

This is DJ SAY WHAT?? on this motherfucker
Sayin the dick is long, but my time is short
Before I go, just remember
If your box ain't on FDS radio, you're fuckin up

[Erick Sermon]
Yo Reggie, I'mout

[Jamal]
T-ree F Squad
Muddy Waters
Don't get it twisted... nigga

[Redman]
Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched
Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs
Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques
I beez that, freak of the week like I made Knee Deep
Hold up! Rotate around the solar, badder than Cobra
Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps Folgers
I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok
without the MSG and chopped celery
See, I made it, my flavor situated
from the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated
Plus, I'm thick like Quakers on papers
Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases
lettering, and the medicine, that I'm swallowin
Get you hollerin, like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him
in the chest, I roll with two stacks of Tecs
And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest
UHH! Mister Fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick
When I'm blasted, my Method magics get drastic
That you can't see with bifocals
Watchin MC's go up and down like stock brokers
I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk
That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt
I'm poppin mad shit, plus I can back it
Your man'll be like "Yo, get that dust off yo' jacket"

[Keith Murray]
It ain't a test or quiz that my Squad can't win
Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz
Y'all digest, multiple stab wounds to the chest
And I copycat kill the rest, with no Method to my madness
Plus the apparatus with the baddest
Determined to be the last man, standin on the planet
Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin leech
When you fall into my rhythm of speech
Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass
Head get wrapped up neck get thrown in a neck brace
Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?
Will ironically chronically murder you and your crew
My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive
See I get to the bottom of the problem, and make shit give
Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master
cast to the masses grabs the mic
Ten dollar rappers, is what L.O.D. goes after
To my Squad, there's no matches, we bashes
Do photo flashes on all flavor S-classes
Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back
Tie you up, throw you in the act
A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger
Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up

[Jamal]
Muddy Waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go
Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble
Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic
Playin that big shit get broke down microscopic
Freak it back keep the track ringin, with the bassline
It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine
Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace
Around and round, avoidin the time to put it down
Now's the time here yeah

[Erick Sermon]
Clown where, pick a spot
Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot

[Jamal]
Gangsta, so called killin, cap peelin
Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic
Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight
Night fall might call your life, shit is trife
on these evil streets after dark
Niggaz gettin sparked left and outlined in chalk
New day, this whole shit's twisted (is it man)
It's me bombin on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G
open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G
Hopin to ride in the, industry with E
The villain's had it cause ahead (word up yeah)
Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad (yeah)

[Erick Sermon]
Y'all know, uhh, yeah, Muddy Waters
We out for nine-seven, word up, peace