METHOD MAN Extortion

Lyrics from rodjtulang METHOD MAN Extortion Lyrics, singer by METHOD MAN

[Intro:]

Yeah…
Time to let these niggaz know Son
Niggaz don’t even wanna motherfuckin understand
KnowhatI’msayin? Time to hit em with the third degree
Yeah you know the QBC, here to drop a G
Yo…

[Verse One: Havoc, Prodigy]

Look into the eyes, True Lies, your whole click despise
Especially me, H-A-V-O-C
Don’t want your chick, cuz she’s burning third degree
Plus you snitchin, you ain’t got no ties on me
I keep it strong, while you scream word is bond
Lying through your teeth swearing on your first born
Your word is weak, go hold a wake in this
Hit you up quick strictly shit that I’m livin in
You walk a line that’s thin, you religious well you sin
Fuckin with the Mobb, Infamous to the end

I hold a nine Ruger, with an infa-spot disc
Red dot right at your face, so set sail or rock it
And kept drivin, pull off like the Indy 5 G
In a four time Ford truck with Speed
like the motion picture, this nigga Gone With the Wind
My crime work, ninja style shit was did
And got away with, escaped it, the Jakes from tracing
Anything that lead to the source, you know the boss
of the Mobb killing, is like an Unsolved Mystery
Puzzling, nobody knows, it’s all history
Madness amongst me, I frequently have to get lovely
Never fails it’s always something
No rest, daily gotta rock my vest
I shoot at your best man yeah your MVP
He played the front line got struck down immediately
I wave a Mobb Deep flag, you hear the sound as it slaps when
heavy load my military hold ammunition
Far from animation, it’s real live, you think not
My crew, changing New York, who taking your spot
I put the green light on, your whole click, Island shit
Running through the hoe-house wilding, extorting

(Extortion, hit that up, extortion, hit that up)

[Verse Two: Havoc, Method]

Extortion is the key I got the key for extortion
Spend your fortune, dead your shorty like abortion
Take precaution, Infamous laws enforced in
You married to the Mobb, kid take it then divorce it
Cause I ain’t got no time for them domestic disputes
If you scared get a dog don’t got a click then recruit
You’re weak troop, lost the tan in the mist
On your name my shit, take it like a man you little bitch

I blaze yo britches, P.L.O. extortion, you forcin
The hand that rocks the cradle, caution before you enter
This Shaolin representer, carry thirty-six deadly shits
You fuckin with, top contenders
Official to the bone gristle
It don’t matter if you bust rhymes or bust pistols
Remember me, burn a nigga to a third degree
Don’t act familiar motherfuckers you ain’t heard of me
Just peep the stee and the rap how it’s supposed to be
Tap the pockets bag the goods like a grocery, we food-shoppin
On top of that we hip-hoppin, and don’t stoppin
Out-of-state drawers-droppin, the panty-raiders
Slide on ya like gators, umped that stank bitch back out
and then played her, but that ain’t nothin
Crossin this dog walkin, native New York and
Shaolin slang talkin, rap nigga
Mr. Freeze crowd shiver
What? Young, black, and don’t give a fuck
If the next crew get the scissor…

(Extortion, extortion, give that up kid, extortion)

Bottom line, what the fuck you wanna do
You eyin me, at the same time I’m eyin you, punk
Wanna pop the most junk
Be the same motherfucker with the most lumps
Chew on that shit
Punk faggot (word up)
Burn his ass like a book of matches
[Yeah, that’s just about it]
Under pressure like fat bitches..

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METHOD MAN Evil Streets (Remix)

Lyrics from rodjtulang METHOD MAN Evil Streets (Remix) Lyrics, singer by METHOD MAN

[Intro: Method Man]

Spark that shit up
and lets fly
Oh my people
Heyyy Ohhhh
Ahhhh Hooooo
Eiiii Heyyy

[Verse One: Sticky Fingaz]

I’m a hoodlum
A dick in the dirt is what i’m holding
Sporting mad Polo but only if its stolen
I got no morals my mind is in the gutter
KId I’ll open up your face with my orange box cutter
Soak you when you least expect it
Before I met Russel I only had a jail record
Plus nothing ever hurt me when I was at home
These Evil Streets got a mind of their own
My Pops left me for dead with just the clothes on my back
I grew up selling crack
And learning to drive a car jack
I got street smarts and I use intuition
I can spot an undercover with my x-ray vision
And if anybody test me out there
They gonna make me kill them and throw away my carear
I’m my Mothers first born, Her last bad seed

[Verse Two: Fredro Star a.k.a. Never]

Its all about the next caper
The cocaine, props and acres
For the sake ah
Snatchin the green paper
Me and my crew roll in the zone of the twilight
The news highlight
When the next shit don’t go right
Its so tight its blazing
A nigga squeezed hayz in
got ’em geezing for a runner
Then the plot thickens
On point like Rod Strickland
Clocks ticking
Makes the hardest niggas clicks stop ticking
Hitting they stash
And murdering like and expert
Cover ya tracks
And conceal that dirty shit

[Chorus: Method Man]

This is for the gun Triggers
The noise bringers
This is for the gun slingers
Bell ringers
The bootleggers
And every day bangers
And all my hood hustlers who know where we headin’

[repeat 2X]

[Verse Three: Sonsee]

Its all about the $50,000 cars
Dice games and ice chains
We out of the average niggas price range
Rings and Remy mixed with Henny
Chicks with Fendi sucking disk in the Infinity
This nigga had mad deco
Fucking petro the nickel metro Blow
All you heard was the gun echo
On a dead nbight I get my head right
Running red lights no headlights
Pumping Buddah in a black Benz
Pulling out Mac 10’s
Its just the smell of fucking cigarettes
Broke niggas with assed out
Took 2 puffs and passed out
Woke him up with 21 shots of penicillin
amped him up
I guess thought it was hempacillin
Yo chill kid lamp kid, chill kid you livin’
Aye yo JB hit me one time

[Verse Four: Method Man]

Its the Blaze that be Johnny
Not many shots can do that ass raunchy
Lyric to the muzak we rolling
Watch out for the niggas that be holding
Raunchy fucking up your colon
Of course its Tical
Verbal assault
We can walk these dogs through all 5 boroughs of New York
Some talk
While other individuals walk
In my square tryin’ to hide thoughts
Spreading lies in my ears
Got me questioning my peers
That be show and prove they don’t belong here
I be the Chef in Hells Kitchen
Pop in the clip and hit the DJ if the records skipping
My competition gotta keep me at arms distance
I know myself onion head niggas don’t listen
I shoot the what
Got no time for that wiz bitchin’
I’m about to blow in 5 seconds
The clocks ticking consider this another mission
impossible as he gets hostile
Uncut blowing up your nostril
We There
Come on take another if you dare
The reason why its so raw cause its real
I swear by the hairs on my Chin Chiggy Chin
To the day I die I represent the Grimy niggas
The ones who can’t afford Tommy Hillfigger
The down and dirty Johnny fill Niggas

[Yeah]

[Chorus 2X]

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METHOD MAN Even If

Lyrics from rodjtulang METHOD MAN Even If Lyrics, singer by METHOD MAN

Yo, c’mon!
Even if I died a thousand deaths
When I resurrect I’ll still be Meth
The jams will still be def
I’m here, me and this mic-phone, we here
And ain’t tryin’ to hear nothin’ cuz we had it up to here
(What?)
Lyrics have no dress code (yeah)
From KRS to Depeche Mode
Hit them so cool you cats cold
Had to jump off, it’s about to jump off
My niggaz speak with they hands or the gun talk
Yo RZA, we got the Clan in the front and police at the door
Every exit is laced with C-4 about to blow
Life trial I’m passed out
MC’s is like bitches in thongs – they assed out
But me, the M-E-T-H- the O-D
Just too real, I can’t be touched and can’t feel
The monotony in rap, take a picture of my nut sac
Carbon copy that and send your crew a fax
Motherfucker

[1 – New and improved Wu-Tang style]
Turn it up now, y’all done fucked up now
Spit flames (Five mics)
Peep game (On site)
Bring the pain (All night)
Off the chain (Damn right)

[2 – Scratching by RZA]
It’s the Method Man for short Mister Meth
Tical-lion
Hmmm

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, c’mon!
Even if I died a thousand deaths
When I resurrect, through my first born, my name lives on
My words is like a third degree to young emcees
Buzzworthy on your MTV, the Killa Bees
John Jacob, straight up, break up, schemes and plots
Ace up my sleeve, bake up pies in pots
So this is what it’s come to (Huh?)
Lickin’ shots at them kids that used to punk you (Huh?)
Repetitious rap shit, don’t get no air play ya mouth whip
And niggaz can’t smoke wit’ dry lips so chapped
Bite my shit, I’m like Kojack to get my flow back
In fo’ flat, I track you down like a low jack
Spy verse spy, eye for an eye can I penalize the uncivilized
Make ’em civilized
You know right from wrong, so know I’m the bomb
Who don’t beef for beats, see the tracks on my arm
Motherfucker

[Repeat 1]
[Repeat 2]

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, c’mon!

[Repeat 2]
[Repeat 2]
[Repeat 2]

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, c’mon!

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METHOD MAN Enjoy Da Ride

Lyrics from rodjtulang METHOD MAN Enjoy Da Ride Lyrics, singer by METHOD MAN

[Streetlife]
Yo, I know the streets is watchin’
Dirty date niggas caught blockin’ or glockin’
Waitin’ for my down four street got options
Fuck y’all, y’all can ball, im’a stay rockin’
All emcee’s falled when I heard the albums droppin’
Nuttin but the hottest hip-hop rap concoction
Rap’s in a state of emergency, it’s shockin’
I produce joints that loosen up the socket
Crowd surf through the mosh pit on some rock shit
Bang your head to this, pump your fist if your feelin’ it
Ride the fuck out, bust a clip for the fuck of it
This is as good as it get, who you rollin’ with? (You)
Who the ultimate? (Wu)
Stay commited, sold my soul to this rap shit
Slow your roll, strike a bowl, you get glapped quick
I roll with, ghetto bastard with biscuits
And grab my dick and flick it, get the picture

[Redman]
Yo, Yo, Yo, I cop a new Benz, crash the front
So hard the airbags use nasal pumps
Jump out, cock the shoti (Rasie em up)
I stomp holes if the ground aint paved enough
Inform the former the first step was a warm-up
The next step’ll bomb on where your car alarm was
Chikens that’ll run in, burn the barn up
Shots’ll tear Sean John and Phat Farm up
I never gotta Soul Train award
Never lost to emcee’s as lame as y’all
Never, trick a bitch car payment off
Im a orangatang when the chain is off
Nigga, ecentric and I slowly blast with a axe, and a pump, and a goalie mask
Leavin’ stains of blood on your Rolie Glass
When im in your hood nigga throw me bags

[Method Man]
Lets trick the night fantastic
Im flexable, they used to call me plastic
These big butt bitches get they ass kicked
It is what it is, shittin’ on y’all kids
Couldn’t live where we live
I can’t be defeated like nobody used to wizz
Like, when daddy’s home can’t nobody beat the kids
Right? You know the clan and you know the fuckin’ man
Meth rock a mic without a kickstand
Two blunts, and razors in his wristband
Slap you and your bitch man
Lookin’ in your lobby, call me stick-man
When it’s goin’ down, call me quicksand
Zero to sixty in a second, pack a Smith Weston
And if the price is right, you can be the next contestant
For this aggression, no question, M-E to the F it be flexin’
As hard as my erection, kid learn your lesson
Cuz what if I decide to start testin’ the joint in the muthafuckin session?

[Saukrates]
Let a nigga get into it
Lubricate y’all veins with your Do-It fluid
I Einstein these rymes, spit these thangs to prove it
Cross with the mac, in fact my games are truest
Now im on the highway, doing it my way
With Street the legal, Meth, Roc, and Doc friday
Performin’ like the weather was warm
And drop heat on the streets through zero degree storms
And keep the ghetto, pop your metal
Smoke it like a cigarette till ya optic yellow
The addiction, aint no friction
I got them rap heads fillin’ out a prescription
With diciton, they in thick, when I put fire to the stakes
And burn the arch, like a iron to your face
These long hard years spent Oxy-Cleanin’ – make it clear
Look out! Big ‘Sauks is here, hit the button

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METHOD MAN Double Deuces (St. Ide’s Malt Liquor Commercial)

Lyrics from rodjtulang METHOD MAN Double Deuces (St. Ide’s Malt Liquor Commercial) Lyrics, singer by METHOD MAN

[Redman]
Oh here they come with the ruckus of the drunk
Funk doc (Methical) the veterans of medicine
Natural fruit juices, that alcohol beverage

[Method Man]
Come to get it on with that crooked ass veteran
Introduction you to this new special brew
Natural fruit juicin, alcohol double duecin
Take what the truth is, that rhyme through your toothless

[Redman (Method Man)]
Hey yo what are you a doofus? (Actin like you ruthless)
Guzzle that St. Ides, Superman flies through the skies
I’m crooked, leavin y’all chinky eyed
In case you were lookin
Ghetto natural now represent
I flip the script if you ain’t
Hike up my guns and malt liquor
Drink it down to the sticker
If you can’t finish it quicker

[Method Man]
Pineapple, coconut, lemon lime fashion
Mixed fruit, put it on ice and it be smashin

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METHOD MAN Dog In Heat

Lyrics from rodjtulang METHOD MAN Dog In Heat Lyrics, singer by METHOD MAN

[Missy]
Gimme that funk, mmm..
Funk, mmm.. yo gimme that
Funk.. sho’ nuff that
Funk..

[Redman]
Yo, yo
Beware of the dogs, off the chain
Fuck your whips at the club we piss in the parkin lanes
Blow it up ten frames so you see it wide
If your broad ain’t fuckin she don’t need to ride (beat it)
She can crawl in the trunk with her knees inside
by the spare, she hungry I’ll feed her fries
Cause I’ma, dog nigga, shot-call nigga
My shotgun talk with a lecture hall scripture
Applaud {*ahh*} bitch, shake that ass
I getcha, drunk and high and duct tape that ass fast
Then leave you on your daddy front lawn (ding dong)
with your hair all fucked up, with one pump on
Get stomped on, I take the money and run
I’m a dog, shit I fuck right in front of your son
If you ain’t got Missy and Meth
want me to spit the hot shit for you? Nigga, write your check

[Missy]
When you come home from work, I’m gon’ make you do more work
Pour some wine in the cup, sip sippin on sizz-urp
Ohhh.. ohhh.. now we gon’ make love to and in ya
SLIDE, wanna take a ride
When you with me oh so right, tell them boys not tonight
Say you chillin witcho bitch and this is one y’don’t wanna miss
Uhh uhh.. cause this love right here is on fire (fire)
SLIDE, wanna take a ride

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
I love it boy when you play this song
Dead wrong, you know this record be turnin me on
You keep me growlin like a dog in heat
Hey wodie put it down make me sleep for weeks

[Missy]
You on the block layin low, from the cops layin low
When you done let me know cause my love make you be like WHOA
Ohhh.. ohhh.. cause I got yo’ mind in the trenches
SLIDE, let’s take a ride
Baby come give me some HEY WODIE ain’t no other one
can shine on my life and make me wanna stay the night
Mmmm mmmm.. cause you put butterflies on my stomach
SLIDE, baby won’t you slide

[Chorus]

[Method Man]
Yo yo I wanna gangsta BOOGIE with my GANGSTA BITCH
Love it when the pussy talk back thanks to dick
All my dogs (woof) playin the wall, get at these broads
You ain’t got no-ass-at’all, we ain’t fuckin wit y’all
I’m not your smooth lovin, see me at Casbah thuggin
Hands where your Stove Top be stuffin
Never catch Tical hand-cuffin, I’m in your party puffin
Smellin like that Wu-Tang production
Cousin tried to tell me pussy come a dime a dozen
And when it come around I’ll beat it down like percussion
Missy come and get me, I’m bout to call Doc
We can all meet up at Peanut’s, I heard it was the spot
Somebody roll the weed up, push the car lighter, kick your feet up
Saturday Night, who got the Fever?
Brought the flavor, of indonesia
Puff puff give type procedures
and this joint bumpin out your speakers

[Chorus]

[Missy]
I’m gonna take you high to the top
and let your body not reject me babe
I’m gonna make you really love me
I’m gonna make you scream don’t stop
But you must first respect his lady
You must respect this lady

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METHOD MAN Do What Ya Feel

Lyrics from rodjtulang METHOD MAN Do What Ya Feel Lyrics, singer by METHOD MAN

[laughing] Yea
[more laughing]

Follow… Juss do what ya feel and never follow
Never follow… Juss do what ya feel and never follow

[Chorus]

Juss do what ya feel and never follow
Juss do what ya feel and never follow
Ha Ha Metical

[Meth:]

Who wanna flip wit the acrobatic?
From Ground Zero all the way to attic
Well we be smokin Tical
The reservoir 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 fuckin heart
Little Meth pea the best pod
Now walk wit dat one, word, time time fo some action
Dreamin bout Toni Braxton
Blowin her back out like Bob Backlund
I’m throwin wrestling holds
Tag Team wit 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 supalyrical individual
I be spittin though that Teflon material
To knock Big Ben off of schedule
Betta move wit a set of tools
I be doin it to mics when I’m a heterosexual
I load the mic then cock, drop it like 3 quarters when I slaughter
Don’t get caught in the water
Cause the Bricks got its own World Order
Leave yo bitches shot like the third rail caught her
Style stay deeper than Orca
I float the seven seas with ease
Get more drugs than pharmacies
So call me that lyrical genevyz
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 them like authority
And when my nigga Meth shine, I be in the How High mobile
Rollin 3 dimes at a time

[Redman and Method Man still… (unknown sample)]

It’s the Jersey representa
Get hit from the bottom to ya head when ya enta

[Meth] Word

[Chorus x 3]
Ha Funk Doc, break it down

[Redman:]

Yo, suck my dick outta animosity
The velocity will fly dat head and freeze yo camps like pottery
then give labodomies to all you rap colonies
And shut yo million dollar investment to economy
And possibly might be the one in black leather
Name tag sayin Caution when wet
By the track wetter
The ass-spreader
I love the grimey shit even my girl did grimey shit to me
And I went back wit her
3 years for carryin a loaded handgun
but its forever wit a nigga
(ch-ch-blouw) and he lands one to yo cranium
That red dot on your forehead is not cause you’re Arabian
(Watch what you say to him)
You caught up in a tight situation
I should start erasin your organization for makin, wack tunes
While my whole platoon rocks the basement
You couldn’t come if I gave my bookin agent
Or producer
Royalty poise 12-shot loaded Luga
Even the crowd get you souped up
You still wack
I peel caps on the regular
Destroy emcees etcetra
Hooped like the Predator
Fuck you, your label, moms, and yo editor
Give you two to the jellular
Left you spreadin all on my shirt
The King of the Flirts, shittin
Bitches hit me off more than New Edition
(tw tw twee twee twee tw twee twee twee twee)
I make them pigs heart skip a beat from the steel fasique
So I alone (one me gun dun)
Get on the mic breakem off a shum shum

[Meth:]

We moonshine and grow crops
Purchasin a handheld wit the sho-shot
It got me spittin
These slugs at my competition, in rap sessions
You ain’t be got no weapons you live professin
Next in line
Parental discretion advised
These explicit, street linguistics
Betta than yo momma biscuits
We bombshellin
I might know but ain’t tellin, too bad you missed it
Johnny, dangerously, Blaze
Anotha enemy made, anotha due paid
Color-safe bleach so I don’t fade
Scar you mental wit my double-edged blade
Razor Sharp get yo bandaids
Hold that
Like E said get the Pozac
Show dem wack niggaz where da door’s at
On the case like I’m Kojak
Kissin the grits on that floor bitch
Flip scripts, take loooong shits
Raider Ruckus, one
I come wit premeditated Red Rum
Gingivitis to yo filthy ass gums
Bottom line eitha get down or get done,
Muthafucka

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