 Tical » The lyrics [+ Bæta við +] |
1. _ Sub Crazy
Intro/Chorus: We can all get by if we want now Get a phat piece of the pie if we want Motherfuckers gettin mad high when they want now I will survive, recognize it be Tical Verse One: Word up, our niggas is strapped, ready for war on the ill block Things just ain't peace no more, fuck it If you ain't with me then forget me Niggas try to stick me, retaliation, no hesitation, shifty Creepin niggas in the dark, triggas with no heart Rippin ass apart, I'll be swimmin with the sharks now Stay out my water or it's manslaughter Kid, you oughta start reachin for that nickle-plated auto- Matic, my thoughts get sporadic, loaded raps Bustin mad shots to ya attic They say this hazard, this flows a hazard Straight from Hazard County with a bounty on his head, and it said "Wanted Dead or Alive," I swear by the whites of they eyes To never take a dive I will survive Chorus Verse Two: Shit's gonna happen if niggas start actin Like they want problems, you want em, you got em Rap contact, is writin this exactly, the way it should be Attacked, Killer Beeeees on a swarm So what my martial law drops bombs like Qur'an The ism helps to stimulate my pugilism I bust rhymes like jizm, impregnate the rhythm with the wisdom Decipher the flow, I be hyper, I bring all the styles That rekindle like old flames Saliva, check the wicked flows I deliva Oops, I mean deliver like the Hudson River Styles be tight, trite like a thief in the night I be the sneaky-ass nigga bustin nuts in yo wife Blasted, buggin off Bacardi and acid Flippin on the mic, it's a classic more free lyrics |
2. _ Tical
*sounds of fighting* "You've been lucky... I wish I got you last time. En garde, I'll let you try my Wu-Tang style." "I'd like to try your Wu-Tang style, let's begin then!" Intro: Method (and others) From the tip top? (Aiyyo aiyyo, what the fuck's up with light dude?) Yup One two (no doubt, no doubt) One two one two Yo one two, uh, one two one two (yeahh, we gon' be up in that) Ah one two, uh, one two one two (yeah light that shit up) Ah one two yo, check me out Chorus: What's that shit that they be smokin? Tical... tical, tical Pass it over here... tical... tical, tical What's that shit the niggaz smokin? Tical... tical, tical Pass it over here... tical... tical, tical Verse One: Check it, I got styles, all of em sick Niggaz ain't fit to walk a mile in the dead man's kicks I make em shit about a pile, of bricks to show He ain't nuttin but another, a lone John Doe That wanna flow, here it is, comin up shit's creek I come to throw monkey wrenches in your program, sleep and I'ma grow, like a rash on ya nasty ass In a whip, with no breaks and I'm hittin the gas It's a bird, it's a plane, take a look in the sky Method Man on some shit, niggaz call me The Fly Cause my style, dates back to hoppin turnstyles Make ya fear, if ya cutie in the chair, you can bet I'll get severe on the double I harass it I don't look for trouble, I'm already trouble Ya bastard, check the wicked flows that I crafted Open up a deadly venom style to be mastered By a psychopathic, way beyond an average Joe, with a hellafied flow, there ya have it Chorus One two, uh, one two one two One two, uh, one two one two One two, uh, one two one two Check it out Verse Two: What goes off? What goes on? The Meth shit that we got is to stay high, no question Lethal weapon, ain't no time for half steppin When brothers start wettin everything in ya section Move that, niggaz came strapped, shoulda knew that Do dat, pussy cat rap, boy, I'll screw that To' up, from the flow up, don't even show up To the battle, I heard you rattle now hold up Is there a fuckin snake in my garden? Starvin, for a rap treat, steppin on my feet Pardon yo delf, before ya find yo delf In a FUCKED UP situation, without no help I'm not playin, cause I don't play with nobody God damn kid, know what I'm sayin, I'm peelin niggas wigs I be sprayin, brother with words Cause I got a spit PRAAA-BLEM Chorus One two uh, one two one two One two uh... (stick a fat tical in your butt, yeah baby fuckin with tical) (yeah niggaz better recognize... tical...) more free lyrics |
3. _ Biscuits
Intro: 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 Verse One: Are you ready, to face the consenquences 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 Interlude: 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 Verse Two: Who said the Wu-Tang Clan? Was it you or your man? You wanna 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 coul 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 Outro: 94 baby, word up, recognize, recognize Wu-Tang killer bee The RZA and the Method MZA Raider Ruckus, where you at? more free lyrics |
4. _ Meth Vs. Chef
Intro: Duel, worthy of a general If you want to fight, fight with me! One to one! Man to man! Get ready to gel team! Live and direct from the one-six-ooh We got Tical, pow! Raekwon the Chef, Tical! It's about to go on, Tical! You make the call, I make the call! It's all for all Method Man, Raekwon the Chef (count my shells) And there's about to be one left (count my shells, nigga) I know you know it'son kid (Bring that shit I don't give a fuck!) *bell rings* Verse One: Method Man Who lit that shit it was I the chinky-eye Cheeba-hawk from New York, Tical Staten Isle niggaz thought, that they could walk a dog but they caught a bad situation, cause I'm a sandwich short of a picnic, cause you ain't equipped with the sickening style, blowing up the spot like ballistic missiles, I be comin through like the four-nine-three-eleven tearing up the power-u, Me-Tical A bad motherfucking buddah monk, what the fuck hit your chest, like cardiac arrest, blow the front out the frame, hit the pussycat for the pain of the dog shit, nobody move run your garments A rugged vet, terrible like a Champion sweat Wrap a power in a tec, to wet a nigga up, with all the dangerous diseases Sniffling sneezing coughing aching stuffy head fever Fucker, I think it's bout time that you suffer Bobbin on my nob like an all day sucker *bell rings* Bitch! Meth Vs. Chef (it's my turn) Meth Vs. Chef (yo let's bring that shit baby) Meth Vs. Chef (yo, yeah, one more time nigga) Meth Vs. Chef (callin me out, it's goin off) I blow your fuckin ass to death *bell rings* Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef I'm goin all out kid no turnbacks You could try to front, get smoked and that's that Lyric assassin, dressed in black buggin Sixteen shots to your mug, from a slug then I go to war in a conrete jungle, make the punt cause niggaz act funny, and fumble But I relax, count my shells, a lot of heads gotta fly Niggaz stay strapped, armed to die Time for jet-black Tim boot, flowin Wha-Su God get him, hit em with the nine troop No question, cha-cha-BLOW in the session Bloodshot in that direction, cypher *bell rings* 'Tack you like chess moves best move Yo, yeah, yo The boards, your ass 'Tack, 'tack, 'tack, uH! *bell rings* 'Tack the boards like chess moves best move at Rae through, comin at your motherfuckin crew Live direct, yeah you better step Gunshots ring on the set, let's jet Motivate, to the gate With some quick high Rae stay fly, and rob your Isle Airwaves, yo behave Now you're a slave with the boots that paved the way *bell rings three times* Ahh shit! Chef Vs. Meth Vs. Meth more free lyrics |
5. _ P.L.O. Style
Chorus: P.L.O. style, Buddha monks with the Owls P.L.O. style, Buddha monks with the Owls P.L.O. style, Buddha monks with the Owls P.L.O. style... Verse One: Method Man Here comes the ruckus, the motherfuckin ruckus Thousands of cut-throats and purse-snatchin fucks Straight from the brain, I'll be givin you the pain, anger Comin from the 36th Chamber, Bang! Tical, hittin with the Buddha-Fist style Shotgun slammin in your chestpiece, plow! Brain, is blown all over the terrain Like a man without no arms you can't hang Time for a change of the guard You've been arrested for lyric fraud now you hard For real, check it, I pull strings like B.B. King on guitar I'm the true fist of the North Star! Verse Two: Carlton Fisk, Method Man Ooooooooh! What a tangled web we weave When first we practice to decieve Guns be clickin, runnin with my clan we be stickin Whatever, my street family stays together Represent what I invent, killa hill Resident, rest in peace to my nigga Two Cent The street life is the only life I know I live by the code style it's mad P.L.O... Iranian thoughts and cover like an Arabian Grab a nigga on the spot and put a nine to his cranium I..can't...get no satisfaction, niggas won't be lastin Long, unless they get protaction, for real Strong, comin with my clan so what's happenin Commercial rap, hate it with a passion The M-E-T-H-O-D got me drinkin O.E. all night in a M.P.V. Just maxin, lookin for hoes, you know relaxin Bitches know the hour it be time for some action P.L.O., peace to that nigga Barryano Word up, let's take him to the bridge, Verrazano Chorus more free lyrics |
6. _ What the Blood Clot
All I hear is gun shots. Can I touch something?
What the blood claat! Niggaz want tical, make it happen.
You know my fuckin' style, fuck the rappin',
We can take it back to eighty-five if you wanna START actin' like you live
It's all good. I'm rollin' with my clique,
Owls, Packwoods & Phillies, smokin' sess blunts, mixed with illy
Got me bustin', now the whole world looks dusted,
I'm in the area with the skill that never rusted.
For real, nigga, touch it & you burn, when will motherfuckers learn
What be spreadin' like a germ? Ha ha, it's Meth, word.
I be that early bird that got the worm & if you check it
I'm on point, like a fax machine you get the message.
It be no question & them bust the second guessin's,
Keep your thoughts on your lessons. What the blood claat!
To tell the truth, you don't amaze me. Killa Hill project,
A Star Trek phaser couldn't phase me. What,
Check the Raderuckus FUCK this,
Smoke a Dutchmaster, have 'em screamin' for the duchess
Yeah, I gotta have it, so I strive to stick my piece
If I don't do it for mydelf, I'm a do it for Kase,
'Cause that's my peoples, I'm giving you injections that be Lethal
Weapon, when niggaz start the half steppin',
Then I get evil. But don't let that negative vibe right there
Mislead you, I'm humble, a fucking Killer Bee,
Far from bumble. I sting you BZT and I bring you
Thirty-six chambers of head banger, bitch,
Why I deal with? I think the mic is on the fritz.
Faggot soundmen! They be sabotagin' shit!
Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane...
Methical, let the whole world know my fuckin' name.
What the blood claat!
more free lyrics |
7. _ Mr. Sandman
Intro: RZA (singing by Blue Raspberry) *bees buzzing* *man screaming in torture* This is... (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) Serious, the craziest ... d-da, (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) day-da Danger, dangerous... style Verse One: RZA Lyrical shots from the glock bust bullet holes on the chops, I want the number one spot With the science, of a giant New York defiant, brutal like domestic violence Silence of the Lambs, o-ccured when I slammed in Foes grab their chairs, to be mad as Ralph Cramden Others come with shit, as silly as Art Carney But my Tetley triplizes, more kids than Barney Never need for stress there's three bags of sess a damn I rest, playing chess, yes My thoughts be sneaky like a crook from Brooklyn When you ain't lookin, I take the queen, with the rook then I get vexed, layin phat trax on Ampex Morphous God, gettin drunk, off a Triple X Violent time, I got more love than valentines The violent mind, I blast with a silent nine Verse Two: Inspector Deck My hazardous thoughts to cut the mic's life support short Brains get stained like tablecloths when I let off Powerful, poetry pushed past the point of no return Leavin mics with third-degree burns Let me at 'em, I cramp your style like a spasm Track em through the mud then I bag em We're screaming hardcore, hip-hop drips out my balls and I be raw, for four score plus seven more I strike like a bowling ball, holding y'all hostage like hail, electrifying the third rail Peep the smash on paragraphs of ruckus Wu-Tang (Clan ain't nuttin ta fuck wit) Verse Three: Method Man Hot time, summer in the city My people represent, get busy The heat-seeker, on a mission from hell's kitchen I gets in where I fits in for head-touchin, listen Enemy, is the industry got me flippin I don't give a fuck tell that bitch and a nigga I'm killin, snipin, catchin murder cases Desert Storm-in, I be searchin for oasis As I run a mile with a racist Pullin, swords, hit the Billboard with a bullet Peace to the number seven Everybody else get the fo'-nine-three-eleven (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) I don't know what's going on if you can take us there... Verse Four: Street Thug Yo, watch me bang the headpiece there's no survival My flow lights up the block like a homicidal murder, underground beef for the burger P.L.O., criminal thoughts you never heard of I switch, the city never sleeps, life's a bitch I shit, runnin through bitches like Emmitt Smith Caution, niggaz best to be careful crossin the street, before they end up layin in a coffin Don't sleep, niggaz tend to forget, however Peep this -- my nigga Case lives forever Verse Five: Carlton Fisk What evil lurks in the heart of men? It be the shadow, street-life, flowin again I had a plot, scheme, I knew for sure Only one kid would knock the hinges off the door The jerk tried to jet, Sabrina at his neck Thirteen pounds on the table plus a tec Just when I said, "Where the fuck's the cream?" Another jerk came out the kitchen with the M-16 He tried to cock it, blast these shots like, rockets Crushed his collarbone, ripped his arm out the socket My move for the table was swift, I got my hostage (The nigga tried to stab you God!) but I dodged it Niggaz said, "Carlton youse a ill motherfucker" Cause I made it look like they both killed each other And I'm out (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) more free lyrics |
8. _ All That I Need
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 more free lyrics |
9. _ I Get My Thang in Action
"Good.. Wu-Tang martial expert There's not many, who can match up with him" (He'll give you a heart condition if you fuck around like that there Tell you it ain't no good for the bloodstream You know god damn whatever and uhh it's dumb and big -- it's DUMB AND BIG) Mira, Meth-Tical comin through with the suu (Lie in cut for y'all) Check it out Niggaz wanna test my steez, nigga please I black that eye like peas, you better freeze in your tracks, a Wu-Tang (bzzz) killer bee's on ya back I comes for the honey plus the phat money sack You want it all? Yeah I want it all like THAT I stab my own moms in the back for a stack Niggaz like, "Damn, why you want it like that?" (Why is that?) Cause I'm a dog, and I got no love for the cat (uhh) Attitude's cold like the North polar cap Where I do my dirt's a little further down the map (Is that so?) A little buckwhylin, Island called Stat' Where niggaz carry gats in they Black Moon hat Now I'm mad known for the bones and the rap And youse an unknown with a faulty contract Wake up and smell the Met-chod motherfucker contact Villain in the cypher from the foe when head crack An Indian giver and I'm out to take it back Shaolin Island, baby where you at? A runaway train that be runnin on ya track That's how it's goin down, yeah, it's goin down like that I gets my thang in action To live, to love, to see, to learn Yo! Tell em what's happenin! (What's happenin? I'll tell yo' ass what's happenin Tell em what's happenin It's goin on out here - brothers ain't got no peers and they smokin funny - shuddup yo' damn mouth!) [Method Man] I swing funky rap routines and tap the jaws Spot ya twenty points and you still can't score NUTTIN - cause you ain't got no points in this game Kid you FRONTIN - I'm home run hittin, you be buntin Fresh out the toilet, I got my shit together When I'm good, I'm good, when bad, I'm better You want it? Whatever - I'll be the stormy weather rain comin down, so weatherproof your leather JACKET, a nigga with a AXE couldn't HACK IT I spark em like a match (ssskt) Coming back it's the Met-chod, say it loud I'm the Met-chod, Man - clap yo' hands, now check it See me in the mix, rollin fat, bustin flicks While my physical brother came through and got me lift Niggaz, that I walk by, give me the eye The moment is fuckin me up, killin my high Nigga get back, ya pussy cat, I'm fearsome Basically THAT, I'm all of THAT, and then some While I, was out on tour, goin beserk I heard you was at the sandbox and kickin DIRT All on my name but you can't pull my file YOU DON'T KNOW ME, AND YOU DON'T KNOW MY STYLE Comin out dere like dat dere, YEAHHHH Even Grizzly Adams couldn't bear (Ahhheheh, I taught the boy everything he KNOW Go on you bad motherfuckers See I told you that kid go back to that Dolemite Everybody needs to love Dolemite I love Dolemite, you love Dolemite Hey, how you doin nigga, I know you Knowin I didn't when I did Meth-Tical Shiiit, I told the boy If ya can't get yourself a ten The least you can do is spark five two's And we out, Method) more free lyrics |
10. _ Stimulation
<Intro Chorus: Blue Raspberry> Let's come together for the stimulation Meth-Tical hit 'em with the stimultaion <Verse 1> I got 36 styles on my mind, Keep it real, Shaolin represent one (time) All my peoples are you with me, where you at? (suuuu) All my killer bees on attack, where you at? (suuuu) Throw ya fuckin' hands in the air if you wanna mix If ya got ya gats peel a cap for the new year Blinding devotion, What's the commotion? Wu-Tang clan (????) Flowin' like the ocean (bluue) I be comin' for your (crewww) Flyin' guillotine (styyyle) With the name Meth-Tical Is it on? Is it on? Is it gone? If I ain't on ya records then the shit ain't really on One man band from the Wu-Tang clan Ask who the man, goddamn, it be Method Here-here I am in the plan (????) Puttin' Def Jam's on my records It's onnnn <Chorus: Blue Raspberry> Let's come together for the stimulation Meth-Tical hit 'em with the stimultaion Can everybody feel the stimulation Meth-Tical hit 'em with the stimulation <Verse 2> I'm here for you son, I gotcha back As long as you keep it real, word, I gotcha back Brothers want the drama but don't know how to act Until the chrome pointed at his dome head crack C'mon let's keep it real, no disguise, recognize From my sword chop what a nigga do? A nigga dies That's why I'm stressin' that brothers keep they thoughts on they lesson Ressurect yo mind from the essence For real Ill block nigga get rocked like by the dozen, Whaddup cousin? Now give a pound to that lounge nigga Peace, my MZA, killa hills 10304 (????) So I just, uh, Make my way for the Wu building Now I'm chillin' with the neighborhood villans thug life it be on now Hear the gun blaow as I milk another cow Let the method show you how niggas do it I study, In the life of good, bad, and ugly Part time call that nigga lovely But that ain't nuttin' Before I die, I'm a leave the world, With something, To remember me by The real stimuli Fool you be frontin' <?Ass out rap to rapture to capture?> I keep it when I part like a natural disaster I keep it live Time more than '85 And (????) third eye got me thinkin' Mabye you and I should get together for whatever You never in ya long ligge-life had it better Then you got it now We be lifted, tical Word, son, I like yo style <Chorus: Blue Raspberry> <Break: Method Man, overlaps chorus> Basically, I'm here for the stimuli To get high and for doughnuts Meth-Tical, it's 9-4, and it's raw, once more The Wu-Tang saga continues <Outro Chrous: Method Man, overlaps Blue Raspberry's Chorus> Wu-Tang clan, forever No we don't die we just multiply forever, and ever, and ever... <Chrous' 'till fade> more free lyrics |
11. _ Release Yo' Delf
Intro/Chorus: Blue Raspberry When I first stepped on the scene, niggaz was petrified Jet back to the lab like they were being chased by homicide My rap flow does you like Tical, and it will never steer you wrong And all you bitch-ass niggaz in the industry your careers won't be lasting long Chorus Verse One: Check it, I'm the fuckin man, who they mention Notice, that other niggaz rap styles is bogus Doo-doo, prepare for this verse Tical voodoo Blazin, the stuff that ignites stimulation Inside ya, cuz I be that house over water forgot in the realm that be deep as the Poseidon adventure, niggaz need to touch they freakin picture For the sickness, that be spreadin with the quickness Remedies, cousin I be doin on my enemies Penalty, then I drink forties to they memories Emotion, rushin through your down street vicinity Blunt smoke, in the air reveals my identity (Tical.... tical... ti-cal, ti-cal...) As I keep it movin, we keep it movin uh Keep it movin, and keep it movin uh Keep it movin baby we be movin uh Keep it movin, we keep it huh RHARHHH What's that rhythm what's that sound Party people getting down When it hit the baddest man Just release, yo delf!! Verse Two: My God, somebody said it's on, if it isn't I'll be set To blow a nigga up, with my Five Fingers of Death I bring it to his whole damn fam, understand If he frontin, on any man down with the Clan I be comin, for the headpiece you can't cope For my brother, I bring it to the Pope, word to mother Serial, killa, style from Big Isle No Stat, my peoples are you with me where you at? Shit's gettin deep in here, I mean thick Niggaz lookin all in my face like they want dick It's about to hit the fan, hit the flo' That's all I can stands, and I can't stands no mo' What is it? Niggaz think they bigga Cause they got the finga on the trigga of a pistol They don't know I'm wicked, when I start to kick it With the raw sound, wash it down with a Mystic Then I add a Snapple, nigga want the juice But he don't want the hassle Then we try to overthrow the castle Better yet the tent when I'm comin to your town Black man, the rental, God, the pistol YAH! If you don't want a burn from GLOCK Then beware, I buck shots, we move up, the buck stops Here, no more dough will be made Unless it's being made by hoes What's that rhythm what's that sound Party people getting down When it hit the baddest man Just breathe in, till then And keep it movin, baby keep it movin I plan to keep it movin, you know we keep it movin uh And keep it movin, baby we be movin uh And keep it movin, you know we keep it movin uh And keep it movin, you know we keep it movin Baby we be movin, you know we keep it moo..RARHRAH Chorus Outro: Throw your hands in the sky And wave em from side to side And if you're ready to spark up the Meth-Tical Let me hear you say stim-uli Chorus more free lyrics |
12. _ Method Man Remix
Chorus:
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
Hey you get off my clooud
Let me get raw with my southpaw style
Mover, puffin' on a fat blunt from Cuba
It's the Meth-Tical jet to Cal, I'm the buddha
Monk on the hunt for machine gun foes
I keeps you open like a slug from the shotgun punk
Double-barrel, yeah Meth bring it to them proper
Partner, you ain't got no wins in me casa
Straight up, you movin' too fast so baby wait up
Took one, added seven more now you eight up
Get on down wit' your bad self
Get on down, listen to the sound, come on
Few can ever get this whole commit legit
See you all up in my dick
But you don't know shit, uh-huh
What's your definition of a real emcee
From what you dedicated, hey it must be me
Meth-Tical, a lewd descendant of the loud hip-hop
I go on to the break of dawn, and just don't stop
Give me the green light, and the sign one way
Have you had your meth today
Huh, move it in, move it out
Stick it in, pull it out
Shake it up, shake it down
Come on down, Meth-Tical
Oh I often pray that I will
But today I am still
Just a...
Chorus
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
Rrrappers can't get with the style extra wicked
Rap flow is bangin' like butter on a biscuit
A tisket, a tasket I'm not tryin' to have it
Mic flow show up and try to grab it
?
?
I breaks it down, I gets loud for my crowd
Filthy, dirty like a worm underground
Turn into a crazy early bird, that's my word
Before I kick the bucket I'm a kick 'em to the dirt
Check out the cloud, smoke out from the mouth
Other brothers got mad love (?) style for the hood, hey
Enter the square if you dare
Without a fro, I'm so raw that I'm real
I'm goin' to the country, I'm goin' to the fair
To see the senorita, with flowers in her hair
And get mine, cuz she love me long time
Bartender bring more wine
Get in line for the...
Chorus
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
Here I am, here I am, the Method Man
Wu-Tang, killer bees on the swarm, it ain't safe no more
1994, the rugged raw
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13. _ What the Blood Clot!?!
[Intro: RZA, (Method Man), {Y-Kim}] Shit is bangin! You see what I'm sayin? Our shit is bangin! (Our shit is stainin, son) Yo, Shaolin runnin this shit, son! Runnin this shit! (Stainin) What's up, Y-Kim? 'Sup, nigga? {What's up, man? What's up?} What's up? Representin Brownsville Know I'm sayin? Base, peace to all my Brownsville niggaz! {The alcoholics son} What's goin on, son? Peace to all my Putnam Avenue motherfuckers! Bedford-stuy! (Yeah, peace to the valley goat..) Peace to my Wild Wild West Brighton niggaz! (Big up The Bridge!) [Method Man] All I hear is gun shots Can I touch somethin? What the Blood Clot!?! Nigga want Tical, make it happen You know my fuckin style, fuck the rappin! We can take it back to eighty-five if you wanna start actin like you live It's all good, I'm rollin' with my click Owls, Backwoods and Phillies Smokin cess blunts, mixed with illy Got me flusted, now the whole world looks dusted I'm in the area with the skill that never rusted (What?) For real, nigga, touch it and you burn When will motherfuckers learn? What be spreadin like a germ? Haha, it's Meth, word I be that early bird that got the worm and if you check it I'm on point, like a fax machine you get the message It's be no question it's them, bust the second guessin's Keep your thoughts on your lessons What the Blood Clot!?! To tell the truth, you don't amaze me Killa Hill Project, a Star Trek phaser couldn't phase me What? Check the Raider Ruckus, fuck this Smoke a Dutchmaster, have 'em screamin for the dutchess Yeah, I gotta have it, so I strive to stack my papes If I don't do it for mydelf, I'ma do it for Case cuz that's my peoples, we givin you injections that be Lethal Weapons, when niggaz start the half steppin Then I get evil but don't let that negative vibe right there mislead you I'm humble, a fuckin Killa Bee, far from bumble I sting you *BZZZT* and I bring you Thirty-six Chambers of head banger, bitch Why I deal with? I think the mic's on the fritz Faggot soundmen, they be sabotagin shit! Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane... Meth-Tical, let the whole world know my fuckin name What the Blood Clot!?! [Outro: Method Man, (RZA)] Yeah, yeah, you know what I'm sayin? (Yeah, what? What!?!) First of all I'd like to give a big peace and shout out to my brothers in the belly of the beast Raider Ruckus, y'all got my back and one love (Y'all niggaz better start stackin) June Lover, Shitty Brown (Y'all niggaz better get real) Pussin, Pil, P.L.O., Stack DAT, Dusty, Storm (All my real ass niggaz get down, to all my niggaz locked down) SUUU! We still in here, nigga (Y'all gotta party, locked down in the street, nigga) Jamel, one love, nigga, Nice, Uncle Eric AKA Shane (You get your ass beat in the streets) I ain't forget you, nigga, Shakim, nuttin Big Sha, K. Fisk, Big Free from Cipher Heat For all the fugitives on the run Everybody from Riker's Island to San Quintan And a big major shout out to my old dad who just got home on work release, keep your heads up niggaz Oh my God (You what I'm sayin? Peace to the Gods) Here we go, here we go, here we go (You see that, nigga, fuckin Dirty Bastard? That nigga is fuckin crazy!) more free lyrics |
14. _ Method Man (remix)
Chorus: M-E-T, H-O-D, Man M-E-T, H-O-D, Man M-E-T, H-O-D, Man M-E-T, H-O-D, Man Hey you get off my clooud Let me get raw with my southpaw style Mover, puffin' on a fat blunt from Cuba It's the Meth-Tical jet to Cal, I'm the buddha Monk on the hunt for machine gun foes I keeps you open like a slug from the shotgun punk Double-barrel, yeah Meth bring it to them proper Partner, you ain't got no wins in me casa Straight up, you movin' too fast so baby wait up Took one, added seven more now you eight up Get on down wit' your bad self Get on down, listen to the sound, come on Few can ever get this whole commit legit See you all up in my dick But you don't know shit, uh-huh What's your definition of a real emcee From what you dedicated, hey it must be me Meth-Tical, a lewd descendant of the loud hip-hop I go on to the break of dawn, and just don't stop Give me the green light, and the sign one way Have you had your meth today Huh, move it in, move it out Stick it in, pull it out Shake it up, shake it down Come on down, Meth-Tical Oh I often pray that I will But today I am still Just a... Chorus M-E-T, H-O-D, Man M-E-T, H-O-D, Man M-E-T, H-O-D, Man M-E-T, H-O-D, Man Rrrappers can't get with the style extra wicked Rap flow is bangin' like butter on a biscuit A tisket, a tasket I'm not tryin' to have it Mic flow show up and try to grab it ? ? I breaks it down, I gets loud for my crowd Filthy, dirty like a worm underground Turn into a crazy early bird, that's my word Before I kick the bucket I'm a kick 'em to the dirt Check out the cloud, smoke out from the mouth Other brothers got mad love (?) style for the hood, hey Enter the square if you dare Without a fro, I'm so raw that I'm real I'm goin' to the country, I'm goin' to the fair To see the senorita, with flowers in her hair And get mine, cuz she love me long time Bartender bring more wine Get in line for the... Chorus M-E-T, H-O-D, Man M-E-T, H-O-D, Man M-E-T, H-O-D, Man Here I am, here I am, the Method Man Wu-Tang, killer bees on the swarm, it ain't safe no more 1994, the rugged raw more free lyrics |
15. _ Bring the Pain
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...) more free lyrics |
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Íslenska 
