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Method Man – Supa Ninjaz

Исполнители: Method Man
Альбомы: Method Man – Taste Of Tical 0 (Part III)
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Текст Method Man – Supa Ninjaz

Текст:

repeating in background
«rock, the body body — rock the body body»

U-God
Dino the dart specialist

Knahmean?
Golden Arms, yo
Meth-Tical, John John do your thing thing
What? Check it

The all eye seein, heavenly divine
The truth brings out, the temper in my spine
A Hill sound again, feelin symptoms that bit me
I feel for you victims, with everything up in me (uh-huh)
A head ringa, stuffed in sidewalls of frenzy
Back the fuck up, cause I’m stimmi off the Remi
A semi bloodshot eye, donkey dick of nuts
Every cut, I split and try and felt the guts (what?)
Nigga what, earthquakin speech, woofer hissin
The razor faced victims, WHEW, that’s what kissed em
Appropriate precaution, surroundin, certain it curtains
I’m dumbfounded, I’m poundin, the pavement
for mental enslavement, I’m cravin, a misbehavin savior
America the grave for gun wavers (what?)
The wave runners, what the blood seed again
Make you wonder, about the thunder underneath the skin (hmm)
The sapphire rhymes slap fire out your minds
with right timin, bite with vampire rhymes

Method Man
Hmm, eye spy, with my crooked eye
Four metal street soldiers, born to die
Put em up yeah fuck yeah, when it’s Hammertime

niggaz can’t be touched here, the true and livin
Night vision unseen, like Jean
when I hack men The Unforgiven, left in prison
in the Wu-Tang dirty dungeon, now you succumbin
to my twelve part dirty dozens, flabbergasted
by tracks that be Tru Mastered, opposites attract
beef plus they ass backwards, stick yourself
til I’m felt, this ass whoopin, is bein dealt
Like hot peas and butter nigga, I got the belt
What the deal huh? Swing low, sweet chariot
I walk the Underground Railroad, with Harriett
Just a slave to the rhythm — victims I’m like alien
About to put that shit up in em, I Can’t Live
Without My Radio, a 100 Miles and Runnin
T2 Judgment comin, nobody’s safe
when I reminisce about Case, still hit the staircase
when the coppers give chase, I give em finger
The only hip-hop singer, to tell America
to kiss his Killer Bee stinger, nothin can save ya
from this major misbehavior, heavy hands
layin corners in the elevator, guard your grill

Cappadonna
I speculate, get my darts straight, don’t exaggerate
Dictate, do it with the Papermate, set the plate
set the bait, checkmate, fuckin with cha mental state
Double take, meditate, earthquake, VGL contemplate
Big boys integrate; catch you at the sess skate
Army tank, high rank, got the bank
Got the shank talk the talk walk the walk from New York
to Up North to downstate to L.A., to all day
To cliches to instant replays, to all the DJ’s
To PJ’s, in the PJ’s, equality days
With money like legs I plant eggs, Pele roundhead
The dog bred, snakes runnin from red, catch dead
Big born is on take the uniform, we perform
shit like gangs are now born check for new dawn
Fuck a U Conn, you been warned, we the realest
We never were conned, duffed out and knowledge born

(«Rock, the body body — rock the body body») — repeat til fade

Альбом

Method Man – Taste Of Tical 0 (Part III)