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Muddy Waters, Redman
Muddy Waters
Release type: Album
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Duration: 67:10  
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Intro Lyrics
[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]
02:16 192 3,13 0.10
Iz He 4 Real Lyrics
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
01:35 192 2,19 0.10
Rock Da Spot Lyrics
(W.. F.. D.. S..) Aiyyo, aiyyo check this out man
Hah, aiyyo hah-hah
Aiyyo aiyyo, hah-hah
Nahnah, aiyyo, aiyyo
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

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)
04:11 192 5,74 0.10
Welcome (Interlude) Lyrics
Our phone are open for all you high motherfuckers
[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

Hi this K-Spark from the Al Parks, 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 troll, funkier than Haitian underarms
Represent Jersey, the land of firearms
Hotwired cars, emptying cigars
Afros, mofo's, on knees 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
Ahh, 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 Griffith, it's Red's kitchen
My infrared's missin, damn I'm slippin
I'm out of ammo, yo Crossbreed, stick the clip in

02:07 192 2,90 0.10
Case Closed Lyrics
[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)

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

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: da otha Crossbreed MC

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 the cheapest
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
02:59 192 4,08 0.10
Pick It Up Lyrics
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)

Verse One:

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

Verse Two:

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)

Verse Three:

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' big 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*

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?

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
05:09 192 7,06 0.10
Smoke Buddah Lyrics 02:35 192 3,54 0.10
Whateva Man Lyrics
*woman moans*
[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)
03:08 192 4,32 0.10
Chicken Head Convention (Skit) Lyrics
Ahwhattup y'all? Live, WFDS
At the fucked up Chicken Head Convention
Nationwide, Jones Beach, all the boroughs is representin
We got the big weaves, the big shoes, bad attitudes
Huh, it's on and POPPIN out this motherfucka
Well this is Nik D, hood broken to the end tell a friend beyatch
And we gon check in with these here chickens
Yo shorty, um excuse me, could you tell me your name?
I'm buggin out buggin out buggin out yo whassup??!?
Pedaddaddi, aiyyyyy!!
Oh, shorty, chill chill see, understand, I'm just tryin to interview
Yeah no, nah fuhreal doe, check it out check it out, one second
Tell me... why they call you, a chickenhead?
Ahh I understand
Niggaz be callin me a motherfuckin chickenhead cause
I be goin to the store wearin that same grapefruit t-shirt
I had on before, and diggin up my ass, my nose
Heh, ah yeah, I see how you get down
And the whole nine, my boggle you can kiss my chicken ass
I'ma go over here and step to the next chicken head
Ahh excuse me, shorty, right there, you, yeah you
C'mere, tell me... why are you, at the chicken head convention?
I mean, where you comin from?
Girl let me tell you
I just came from the mall, boostin my motherfuckin ass off
Look at all I got here all in this bag
Mad DKNY, Moskino, they got it all girl, they got it all
*horn honking*
[Redman] Yo c'mon bitch, you know I gotta go!
Bring your motherfuckin ass on!
Nigga, your man, girl
Damn, here he go!
[Redman] Always runnin your mouth
*car door slams*
Anyway umm, I'ma step on over here
*car peels out*
to the silver jewelry booth
Mad chicken heads over there, them bitches swear they fly...
01:18 192 1,77 0.10
On Fire Lyrics
("Them bitches swear they fly...")

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

*record scratches, rooster cackles*

03:51 192 5,27 0.10
Do What Ya Feel Lyrics
Intro: Redman

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 (2X)
Haha, Meth-Tical

Verse One: Method Man, Redman

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
Foreground by your 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 Baglin
I'm throwin wrestling 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

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

[Erick Sermon] Redman and Method Man still...
(hiiiigh hiiiiiiiiigh)
It's that Jersey representer
Get hit from the bottom to your head when you enter

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

Verse Two: Redman, Method Man

Yo, suck my dick out of animosity
The velocity will fly that head and freeze your 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 your 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 [born to wonder]
Get on the mic and break em off a sumthin sumthin

We moonshine and grow crops
Purchasin the handhelds with the sure 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
04:15 192 5,85 0.10
The Stick Up (Skit) Lyrics
bus door shuts, bus pulls out*
[some singin fool]
I got a soda, you can't have none of!
I got a soda, it's only enough for one, hon
I got a soda, y'all can't have a god damn sip
I got a soda, I know you want it

Aiyyo shut that singin shit up nigga
Ladies and gentlemen, this is a motherfuckin stick up!
Put your motherfuckin hands in the air!
*blam, blam blam*
The first motherfucker that move is gonna catch this motherfucker
Word up, up the motherfuckin wallet, the jewels
The cash, take your motherfuckin sneakers off
I'm not fuckin pl... bitch, if you move, I'm tellin you
You gonna get it
Nigga you tryin to hide your motherfuckin hands
Take them rings off motherfucker!
Ay man, gimme that motherfuckin cola nigga
I ain't fuckin playin!
00:55 192 1,26 0.10
Creepin' Lyrics 03:59 192 5,49 0.10
It's Like That (My Big Brother) Lyrics 02:55 192 4,01 0.10
Da Bump Lyrics
Sweetheart's dance, that's what we do
The two heart two-step baby, that's me and you
Sweetheart's dance round and round
Make out in the corner
Lover's quarrel, sweetheart's dance

Sometimes babe I hate you 'cause my love's so strong
And then you make me feel so right
I think it must be wrong
You move me, you move me
This love don't make no sense
We make each other crazy baby
And dance the sweetheart's dance

Sweetheart's dance, that's what we do
The two heart two-step baby, that's me and you
Sweetheart's dance round and round
Make out in the corner
Lover's quarrel, sweetheart's dance

Love sets us in motion and gets down around our feet
We're living to the rhythm of our hearts together beating
I love you, I love you, let me whisper in your ear
Let me kiss you on the shoulder honey
Let me hold you near

Sweetheart's dance, that's what we do
The two heart two-step baby, that's me and you
Sweetheart's dance round and round
Make out in the corner
Lover's quarrel, sweetheart's dance

Got your hand in my back pocket
Got your eyes all off in space
How 'bout we just get out of here
And find a quiet place

Sweetheart's dance, that's what we do
The two heart two-step baby, that's me and you
Sweetheart's dance round and round
Make out in the corner
Lover's quarrel, sweetheart's dance

Make each other crazy
Dance the sweetheart's dance
05:10 192 7,09 0.10
Yesh Yesh Ya'll Lyrics 03:59 192 5,47 0.10
What U Lookin' 4 Lyrics 05:01 192 6,90 0.10
Soopaman Luva 3 Lyrics
she is wrapped up tight
in walking prose
and dark rimmed eyes
painting poems of eloquent phrases
leather band worn tied to her graces
shadows dress unmade walls
shoulders bare beneath palms
i am wrapped up tight
in walking prose
and her dark rimmed eyes
04:12 192 5,76 0.10
Rollin' Lyrics 04:10 192 5,71 0.10
Da Ill Out Lyrics
Going out every night
Doing all the wrong things to feel alright
Waking up all alone
Dying to call you on the telephone
I moved way across town
And you've got someone new hanging round,but

Neither one of us is feeling any better
All we've been doing is fooling ourselves
Baby,you and me were meant to be together
Let's try love again
We've tried everything else

You hurt me - I hurt you
Don't make no difference,it's the same shade of blue
Other arms - other lips
Only remind me that's you I miss
You say you've been feeling the same
Why don't we stop playing this game?

Neither one of us is feeling any better
All we've been doing is fooling ourselves
Baby,you and me were meant to be together
Let's try love again
We've tried everything else

We thought we'd be better off apart
But that's not what we're hearing from our hearts

Neither one of us is feeling any better
All we've been doing is fooling ourselves
Baby,you and me were meant to be together
Let's try love again
We've tried everything else
03:36 192 4,93 0.10