* send corrections directly to the typist
[Method Man]
Yeah ha.. we vibin`
Channel livin` all day ha c`mon
Yo its me the m-e-t-h uh o-d
????
Sniff a whole key
My coke deep
Be my consciouss tellin me it dont make sense
Then guard his nonsense
A niggas best defense is his offense
So yo I watch po po
And duck a dodo
Birdies in them gogo`s
Trying to steal my mojo
Oh no your`e fuckin with a pro
Who go for dolo
For sure though
A season veteran holy a (dobo???)
Come on now judge judy
Youre televised through our vision
While I black you get imprisoned
When my eyes see through your eyes
Your hypnotized
Subconsciously you change the station to channel live
That underground hard-core sound who said it`d die
Cause if it is me and my nine`s
The first to ride
For my niggas
Live by the fire die by the flame
Happy im gone knowin my son`s gonna be the same
As his dough-diggy dog that
Who put his feelings on a pamphlet
A pen unleash the dragon again uh
Im on ya like hot grease on a skillet
Gorillas on real tv because they feel us
[Verse 2]
I`m livin like a hundred in a jeep stolen
Wools in sheeps clothng
All beef frozen
Bust like cheap trojans
Nautrally rollin blunts and weed smokin
We keep chokin
Bitches on they knees open
I spit like a automatic semi barking part
And if you hear me starin blame the remmy martin
So liquor shots ghetto people
Dutches and c-lo`s duckin the repo
For fuckin them lady c-o`s
Rhymes blind devine (evol??)
Smoked out in the cadillac regal
With a mommy on my beecho
Theres eight million stories
Only six million ways to die
Theres two million niggas getting away with crime
Theres two million more whack niggas tryin to rhyme
Now theres four million niggas tryin to eat at one time
It keeps the thugs gunnin in the blood runnin
And the judge frontin
Enough to make nigga touch something
[Chorus]
Niggas fuckin with that strick-nine
The models get mine
So we gonna be big time
Its ghetto buisness
Niggas jack cars and rap stars
Rockin the cash bars
Bitches dancin naked on their lap
Its ghetto buisness
Niggas hold guns
Hot ones steakin` the biscut
Ghetto nigga soft cores is ghetto business
Yo, drinks and weed son
Never seeds son
I got what you need son
Its all ghetto business
[Verse 3]
Yo this is for the senile
Walking on the green mile
My lyrics be like the spirit of a teen gone wild
Shit is after ten bitch wheres your child
With a nine in his pocket lockin it down like penile
I did the knowledge to born
Your style straight corn
I woke up in the morning
Heard your shit and just yawned
You fuckin up my high
No lie
You can die
??????????????
Before i break you up like god
Yo its the herb slinger
