[Intro: Method Man]
Yeah, Okay, Yeah,
Back for another one bitch,
Let's go, Ha,
Staten Island stand up,
Strong Island stand up,
Yeah, Brick City nigga,
Funk Doc.
[Method Man]
Yo, I'll start this rhyme with how yall feel in this bitch,
I'm fiendin to spit, Got steel in my grip,
But I aint talkin bout guns, I'm talkin mics, Niggas stealin my shit,
Then try to act like they aint feelin my shit,
Down for talkin bout one, Fuck your feelings, I be talkin in tongues,
Fuck where you from and all the niggas you brung,
Punk, My clan don't sleep son, I put that on each one,
Be cool until the heat, Call me pussy might eat some,
Nigga this is not pop music, Unless your tryna pop shots to it,
Why would you have that glock and not use it,
How could you hear this joint and not lose it,
You stupid, You need to shot from cupid to get love for this music,
Diamond in the ruff, Like iodine, Find me in the cut,
If not prolly find me in a slut, If I buy me a Dutch,
That means Mef Mans, Back with the stuff, Lot of back talkin backin it up.
[Chorus 2X: Method Man]
Now I like bein a man, I like weed in my hand,
I like my cheese in advance, But yall don't understand,
Me no like, Fake niggas that aint got the game tight,
Me no like, When yall killas pop shit and can't fight.
[Method Man]
Back in the zone, No backbone,
He stepped on and spat on, Niggas don't last long,
If I don't get some act-right soon, I'm gonna act wrong,
I aint tryin to get clapped on for makin these rap songs,
If your misunderstood Pink, What would the hood think,
To know that I've been Swindled, Bamboozled, and Hoodwinked,
These rappers aint like me, They see that there might be,
More to me then some Air Force Ones and a white tee,
I'm nice B, 6 foot 4, Un-cut raw,
Pocket full of straws, I'm that nigga to look for,
One paper like a book store, Aint never been shook poor,
I switch from Method Man to Candy Man and the hooked off,
Still aint nothin sweet though, Who wanna spit flows,
First learn to put the weed inside the bag and then get dough, (Then get dough mothafucka)
Tell your peoples and kin folk, I been dope, Anything else is an insult. (God damnit)
[Chorus]
[Method Man]
So obnoxious that I'm toxic, Call it diabetes, Spit that hot shit,
Cause I'm hot bitch, And got butter-fingers, Opps I drops it,
Load and lops it, Take the recipe that’s been concocted,
Got women just like a vehicle, Topless,
Look first, You'll see what I'm worth, Pullin paper straight out the wood work,
Until I push dirt, Shit I hate to fuck up a good shirt,
But damnit I'm back, I can relax, Shot a dos of some murder I wrote, Then lean back,
I'm part Ghost, Part Cappa, RZA, And Deck,
Part Dirty, Uey, GZA, Masta Killa, And Chef,
But I'm all Mef, All vet, Killers I'm complex,
Niggas, Have yet to blow up, Nothin but bomb threats,
New York yall, Shoot or shank me, I bleed Yankee,
I'm hot dog, Yall aint nathan to put it frankly,
I find excuses to finally lose, Then write exclusives,
And eat like VH1, You know behind the music.
[Chorus]