[Intro: Method Man (Redman)]
I wanna deal, with a bigger $$#hole
The streets, it's coming down hard

We got to get our %#@! together
We always had music, eating off the game
Like you was never gon' run dry, that ain't no business

(No other game is run so disorganized
Look around you, every hood that's taking care of business
Is together, dig it, tight?)


[Method Man:]
I can't spend my life running away

For what it's worth, how much dirt can I get done in a day?
I got, clip in the AK (a blunt in the tray)
I'm a beast (f**k the police) N.W.A.

Ya'll play this game that the huster's play
And if you dress in the metrosexual way, then muthaf**ka, you gay
Ya'll can save this drama for Kay Slay, like who's f**king my chick

Or writing books about sucking my dick
Now I don't give a f**k what they say, cause once I put on my cool
They see my life and wanna put on my shoes

Top of the world, ma, look at your dude
I dig a chick with an attitude, but I don't let her cook up my food
It's like these young ^!$$%s hugging the strip

Who got the power to move bricks and buildings never loving the (*##$
Stripping with game, ya'll can guzzle a sip, ain't nothing change
My ^!$$%s is off the chain, and we don't muzzle the pit, a-ha


"Can I get a suuuuuuuu? "
"Aiyo, this bounce right here for all my Wu-Tang muthaf**kas in the house, tonight"


[Redman:]
Soon as I, pick up my pen, I begin my flow

I close my eyes then write rhymes in a Blackout mode
My uzi, weigh over a ton, CD plays over
I do my crime with baking soda, with no odor

Pull out like boat motor streams, crack your shoulder wing
Def Squad decoder ring, psychopath bordering
My dogs %#@!ting on your lawn, while you watering

Pay the fine, audit him and %#@! on your lawn again
D.O.C. get it, C.O.D., my hood
P.O.P., ^!$$%, N.J. deep, baby

Jersey state of mind, Method Man, lock 'em in
Ya'll ^!$$%s give a f**k, punk, we the opposite, yup
I hear you gossipping, cause we on

Just because I rock, don't mean I'm made of stone
My bones is sturdy, I wake up to get it early
When I bully the streets, my Co-D is Keith Murray

In a hurry, back down, the boy roll with us
This how it sound when them boys is transmitted
Bricks to Staten Island, where babies turn into killers

That's why my Cadillac bare more arms than caterpillers, let's get it

"Can I get a suuuuuuuu? "

"Aiyo, this bounce right here for all my Wu-Tang muthaf**kas in the house, tonight"