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Method Man f Star, Polite

Tical 2000: Judgement Day

277 3 часа назад

Текст песни Method Man f Star, Polite - Tical 2000: Judgement Day

Method Man f Star, Polite - Tical 2000: Judgement Day слова песни

[Method Man](There...there?)One more gameYo, uh huh uh huhStaarSurround sounder, blunt smokin, remy downerHip-hop sizzar slingin my raw in your flounderYou get skidawed, undertakin` undergroundersThis lyricist, lounge with low, that be loungerAliens is out of townish, fuck applauseniggas clap now with forty pounders, and fourty-foursIs it all, fair in love with warYoung `uns with guns, acting like they taking yours, uhLive by the sword, they gonna die by the sword, uhMy vocal cords break the laws that apply to natureLow and these niggas love to hate yaRequest the henney straight no chaserTwin towerin` I skyscrape yaNow gimme yours[Star]Trifled disciple, arch rival reppin with weapons that homicidal Star leaves you marked from the start like tribal scars(Allah punk) I`m hazardous as a bomb and arms spinnin` like ChristRecitin` psalms in the streets of Babylon(Verbs I gather well) ??? data shellsMy squad camoflauge your wealthLike the bible with parabelsWith the navigator, spittin razor sharp, breath laser dataThat`ll tickle you now, but sway you later[Method Man]On this one call me Lee MajorMillion dollar man, bionic or proffesor chronicStill not a player, I just fuck alot the panty raiderGet shortys mad, they curse you wild on your sky pagerStankin` ass[Polite]Yo Mr. Big Mouth, better duck down or bite the bulletYou niggas got guns but you scared to death to pull itBet if I pull my gun I`m gon` squeezeI`m startin at your head, son, and stoppin` at your kneesI hate your screwmugs, rumble counterfeit thugs Niggas want mine, bet they come and get it in bloodFat potential, gave birth to a corrupt mentalFoul thoughts paralyzin temples, it`s just that simpleChorus[All]You better come with your best gunNiggas be holdin`, it`s all war no funNiggas be bowlin`, you niggas under pressure nowMy squads down for whatever with whoever nowLet`s get it onBest to come with your best gunNiggas be rollin`, it`s all war no funNiggas be holdin`, you niggas under pressure nowMy squads down for whatever with whoever nowLet`s get it on[Star]Arm leg shots to hit the spot like a four fifth glockWe got this hip-hop shilock and all you clique gotWas lip lock, heavy heat, steady street sweepin your peepsHawks, machete chops puttin` cease to your petty fleetsThis raw rebel got more metal than popAnd rock groups, when my glock shoots the scores settledA ground attack, I`m bound to clap rounds of rapClowns are found flat, face down around the mapSimple minds, cripple smiles, my rhymes are four fiveThe size oh two nines combine, can`t even tickle mine[Method Man]I told you once, I told your ass a thousand times, chumpBody in the trunk, stay in line punk, (Fucking with your mind?)[Polite]YoYou be the actual, sixteen bars, comin` after youNever go against my team, they might embarrass youSlit-slang terrorist talk, fully armedPut your hands up, I`ma put a hole in your pawsRuin your side show, eyes low, brains fried from hydroTwo choices, bass off or either die slowWe all scholars when it`s time to clean a dirty dollarAttack the boards, it`s like a rotweiler[Method Man]Niggas comin out they shoes like they UsherThese motherfuckers on the run, and they socks fromThe bounty hunter, Iron Lungster, rain and thunderHere come the lightning now I`m strikin` back at niggas bitin`Pushin` buttons just to step away from self-destructionInch and a half away from touchin` somethin`

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