f/ Shawnna, Streetlife
[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!
