[Intro: Method Man]
Uh... what s really good?
Yo, yo, yo..
[Method Man]
It s the unstoppable, over come any obstacle
Ya ll know my flavor, pack more punch than Tropical
Any mission possible, do what I gots to do
Labels gettin butterfingers, and next they droppin you
You think you know, but you have no idea
The Diary of a Meth Man, what s this I hear?
Somebody told ya ll, steppin in shit was good luck?
I got the hood stuck, chh-chh, now give the goods up
Ya ll done pushed up, past the point of no return
It s Meth s turn, so roll that shit up and let s burn
I heard Philly got the best scherm, out in Cali, they got the best perms
Now that we know, when will the rest learn?
Come on, each one, teach one, hear no evil, and I don t speak none
Everything cool until that heat come
Just call my name, and I ll be there
Ya ll kids is slum, like the jewelry in Albi Square
[Chorus: Streetlife (Shawnna)]
We drinkin Henny til we flip, poppin bottles til we sick
All ya ll haters eat a dick (yeah, uh)
Let s throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks
Tell me who ya ll rollin with (yeah)
[Hook 2X: Streetlife (Method Man)]
Method spits fire (Fire!) The roof s on (Fire!) My crew s on (Fire!)
[Streetlife]
M-E-T, H-O-D..
[Method Man]
Man, I m in the house like foreclosures
Talk sober, until some dog gets forced over
New York soldiers, be at ease, fall back
Never ever, I m the New Era, like ball caps
Kid, whenever, whoever, whatever, ya ll want it
Ya ll can have it, the problem and answer, I m all that
While we at it, let s tighten up our grips around that cabbage
Silly rabbit, how many kid s done tricked you on your carrots
The product of a bad package, like Bishop Don Juan it s Magic
How I break em like a bad habit, hit tracks like it s target practice
Then let these darts take a stab at it
Niggaz ain t got it, ain t never had it
I jam like L.A. traffic, Jellyroll behind the wheel
And the passenger seat behind the field
It s your boy, physically fit, mentally sick
Get dirty money, told you honey, I m filthy rich
[Chorus]
[Hook 2X w/o "fire" the second time]
[Interlude: Method Man]
Yeah, ya ll niggaz don t know it s a game
Until it starts again, let s do it, haha!
[Method Man]
Six minutes, Method Man, you re on
If you thinkin you gon slip and be alright, you re wrong
You can see me lightin the bong, while writin the songs
That the crowd, is either singin to or fightin along, fightin along
I m try nna tell you drugs is not your friends
And girlfriend, don t try and front like you got your friend
I m at the hotel, motel, Holiday Inn
And my chick s a man-eater, she be swallowin men
Aight, live from New York, it s Saturday night
I got pipes that drain your confidence, and battery light
Aight, mami tight, but she ain t really my type
If ya ll don t see me treat her right, then she ain t really my wife
When I was young, I was stayin in school, obeyin rules
Play with my food, what makes you think I m playin with you?
This is it, ya ll better come on in, the water s fine
Jump on in, let s do it to em one more gain
[Chorus]
[Hook 2X]
[Chorus]
[Outro: Method Man]
Yeah, Ladies Love Big John Studd
No doubt, dick up in your mouth
We do this shit everyday, I m in the cut
With my main shit stain, Ray-Ray Gutter Butt
And we holdin it down for the whole Staten Island, man
Nothin else but Staten Island, man
Ya ll stand up, man, Stapleton, the Wild West, Park Hill
Port Richmond, Now Born, Jungle Nilz, hah... Peace!

- Volver a las Canciones del Album Tical 0 The Prequel

- Volver a los Discos de Method Man