Added (19 Jan 2012, 10:51 AM)
---------------------------------------------
"Bring The Pain"

Basically, can't fuck with me

[Verse One:]

I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain
Let's go inside my astral plane
Find out my mental's based on instrumental
records hey, so I can write monumental
Methods, I'm not the King
But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM
check it, just how deep can shit get
Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it
In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over
Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross
Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side
And I'm the dark side of the Force
Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan
I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it
Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus
Bustin at me bruh, now bust it
Styles, I gets buckwild
Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files
I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy
Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze

[Chorus:]

Is it real son, is it really real son
Let me know it's real son, if it's really real
Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one
Want it raw deal son, if it's really real

[Interlude: Booster]

And when I was a lil stereo (stereo)
I listened to some champion (champion)
I always wondered (wondered)
Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha)
Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!)
And de gargon summary
And any man dat come test me (test me)
Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that)

[Verse Two:]

Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope
the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke
off the set comin to your projects
Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise
Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit
Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit
And it's gonna get even worse word to God
It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments
Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth
Came to represent and carve my name in your chest
You can come test realize you're no contest
Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West
Quick on the draw with my hands on the four
nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore
Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper
Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof
Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw
When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw
I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns
Enough to give my chest hairs a perm
I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe
All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo'

What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style
Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me*
Northern spicy brown mustard hoes
We have to stick you
[horn sound of car racing by]

[Chorus]

[Outro:]

I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off
and make you kneel in some staircase piss

I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off
and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills

You motherfuckers
(So??) So fuck the hoe
Fuck the hoe

(Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...)

Added (19 Jan 2012, 10:51 AM)
---------------------------------------------
"Method Man (Remix)"

[Chorus:]

M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man

Hey you get off my clooud
Let me get raw with my southpaw style
Mover, puffin' on a fat blunt from Cuba
It's the Meth-Tical jet to Cal, I'm the buddha
Monk on the hunt for machine gun foes
I keeps you open like a slug from the shotgun punk
Double-barrel, yeah Meth bring it to them proper
Partner, you ain't got no wins in me casa
Straight up, you movin' too fast so baby wait up
Took one, added seven more now you eight up
Get on down wit' your bad self
Get on down, listen to the sound, come on
Few can ever get this whole commit legit
See you all up in my dick
But you don't know shit, uh-huh
What's your definition of a real emcee
From what you dedicated, hey it must be me
Meth-Tical, a lewd descendant of the loud hip-hop
I go on to the break of dawn, and just don't stop
Give me the green light, and the sign one way
Have you had your meth today
Huh, move it in, move it out
Stick it in, pull it out
Shake it up, shake it down
Come on down, Meth-Tical
Oh I often pray that I will
But today I am still
Just a...

[Chorus]

M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man

Rrrappers can't get with the style extra wicked
Rap flow is bangin' like butter on a biscuit
A tisket, a tasket I'm not tryin' to have it
Mic flow show up and try to grab it
?
I breaks it down, I gets loud for my crowd
Filthy, dirty like a worm underground
Turn into a crazy early bird, that's my word
Before I kick the bucket I'm a kick 'em to the dirt
Check out the cloud, smoke out from the mouth
Other brothers got mad love (?) style for the hood, hey
Enter the square if you dare
Without a fro, I'm so raw that I'm real
I'm goin' to the country, I'm goin' to the fair
To see the senorita, with flowers in her hair
And get mine, cuz she love me long time
Bartender bring more wine
Get in line for the...

[Chorus]

M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
M-E-T, H-O-D, Man
Here I am, here I am, the Method Man

Wu-Tang, killer bees on the swarm, it ain't safe no more
1994, the rugged raw

Added (19 Jan 2012, 10:52 AM)
---------------------------------------------
"Judgement Day"

First.. there was the collapse of civilization
Anarchy, genocide, starvation
Then.. when it seemed like shit couldn't get any more fucked up
We got The Plague
The Living Death
Closing his icy grip around the whole planet
Then the rumors started
The last hardcore MC's.. were working on a cure
.. that would END the pestilence.. why?
I like the death
I *LIKE* the misery
I LIKE THIS WORLD!!!!!

Space, The Final Frontier
These are the voy-voy-voyages of the Starship TICAL

As I walk in the shadow of death
Sixteen men on a dead man's chest
Your host this evening for H-O-T
N-I-S, you get splashed with the Tec
Nobody go, til the God say so
You got a second or mo', to run for the do'
Before I blow back off the map, contact
You didn't know stack, couldn't get down like that
Who want them test rocket launcher, YES
Mr. Meth, hold the fort, most def'
Kids is dead wrong, song's too long
Get swung on, can't we all get along?
See my pinkie, see my thumb
See that kid with the pawn shop gun?
Bust your gums, leave your whole shit numb
Mmmm now what's this? Smell like fish
Mr. Big Mouth, the gat be trout
You need to douche out your style no doubt
Johnny struck through the Shaolin slum
PRUM PRUM PRUM on my Shaolin drum
Niggaz don't dare, to step in the square
Kids ain't playin over here, PLAYA
Only one way, and that's my way
Grim Reaper callin, Judgement Day
(10) Ten let the countdown begin
(9) I was born in the mind
(8) Take the head of a snake
(7) Behold Armaggedeon
(6) Ain't no love for the rich
(5) Only strong will survive
(4) Cause we live by the sword
(3) Plus sixty degrees
(2) For the black and the blue
(1) For the sun.. step into millenium
The name of this one is Judgement Day
No more BS, can't come out and play
Don't blame me, blame society
Type of chemistry for a live MC
Hands in the air like you just don't care
You all get a share, there's a party over here
Year two-thousand, keep bouncin
T-Minus, thirty seconds and countin
New York's finest, still wildin, Shaolin
At the full moon howlin
Get Til It's Gone, killa bee kills
Only time will reveal like the words in the song
Cause love's what I feel for my crew, bust steel
Niggaz don't got to pay my bills
P.L.O. pack the slingshot flow
Plant the seed, let the garden grow
And stick that rhyme where the sun don't shine
Darts pierce your heart like a Valentine
Tis my Tale From the Crypt that's sick
Bloodbath, body baths and shit
U-F-C fightin championships
G.I. Joe's with the Kung-Fu Grip
Now you don't dare, to step in the square
Kids ain't playin over here, PLAYA
Only one way, and that's my way
Grim Reaper callin, Judgement Day
C'mon.. I said c'mon..
(10) Ten let the countdown begin
(9) I was born in the mind
(8) Take the head of a snake
(7) Behold Armaggedeon
(6) Ain't no love for the rich
(5) Only strong will survive
(4) Cause we live by the sword
(3) Plus sixty degrees
(2) For the black and the blue
(1) For the sun.. step into millenium
As I walk in the shadow of death
Sixteen men on a dead man's chest
Your host this evening, Mr. H-O-T
N-I-S, you get splashed with the Tec
Nobody go, til the God say so
You got a second or mo', to run for the do'
Before I blow back off the map, contact
You didn't know stack, couldn't get down like that
Who want them test rocket launcher, YES
Mr. Meth, hold the fort, most def'
Kids is dead wrong, song's too long
Get swung on, can't we all get along?
See my pinkie, see my thumb
See that kid with the pawn shop gun?
Bust your gums, leave your whole shit numb
Mmmm now what's this? Smell like fish
Mr. Big Mouth, the gat be trout
You need to douche out your style no doubt
Johnny struck through the Shaolin slum
PRUM PRUM PRUM on my Shaolin drum
Niggaz don't dare, to step in the square
Kids ain't playin over here, PLAYA
Only one way, and that's my way
Grim Reaper callin, Judgement Day
(10) Ten let the countdown begin
(9) I was born in the mind
(8) Take the head of a snake
(7) Behold Armaggedeon
(6) Ain't no love for the rich
(5) Only strong will survive
(4) Cause we live by the sword
(3) Plus sixty degrees
(2) For the black and the blue
(1) For the sun.. step into millenium

10.. 9.. 8.. 7.. 6.. 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1..
Step into millenium

Ten let the countdown begin
I was born in the mind
Take the head of a snake
Behold Armaggedeon
Ain't no love for the rich
Only strong will survive
Cause we live by the sword
Plus sixty degrees
For the black and the blue
For the sun..

Grim Reaper callin, Judgement Day

Added (19 Jan 2012, 10:52 AM)
---------------------------------------------
"Mi Casa"
(feat. Redman)

[Redman]
[Verse 1]

Whatcu crazy??!!?
Since a buck tooth baby, Doc
Was like straight fuck you pay me like Jay-Z
Lazzy Niggas complain
Doc load up the cartridge and start kickin game like Acclain
Those who you call Doggs rat your name
Those who say they love you attack your change
Thats why i fold down 4 fingers
Say fuck the world and Jimmy da earth out with Coat hangers
Rap game n street game dont sleep
Its a cold world betta pack yer own heat
Niggas aint happy to the cash on "E"
Then the hash and the cat and a bag is on me
Yeah Right!!
My bear hugz air tight
New Yorkerz no no turnin on a redlight
Me against 40 of you? a fair fight
Microphones get took you shook wear white

[Chorus]

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
And its your stopper meth tical man and funk docta

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
Bomb Droppa throw you outch ya mind who shot ya

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
Hit it Hip Hoppers turn it up a notch make it it hotter

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
I'm warnin you partna meth tical man and funk docta

[Method Man]
[Verse 2]

Every time i turn around somebody in my business
Time for you to testify can i get a witness
Actin like bitch's
Dirty Dick niggas look suspicous
Ain't physically fit for the fitness
Welcome to the game of death
Poly wanna biscut?
First prize a one way ticket to my shit list
And i spread it like a rumour or a sickness
Stand-by let a chicken head lay a chicklet
Can i slap a fat ass with da quickness
Stupid ass niggas goin abroad nigga get tha syphilys
Comin through son ima fuck you and your district
Miss representin miss interpreting and des misfit
Playboy, you aint got no balls plus your dickless
And i'm like a plumber layin pipe up in your misses
No man can hold hold me nor can control me
Next time you see me holla like you know me!

[Chorus]

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
And its your stopper meth tical man and funk docta

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
Bomb Droppa throw you outch ya mind who shot ya

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
Hit it Hip Hoppers turn it up a notch make it it hotter

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
I'm warnin you partna meth tical man and funk docta

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
And its your stopper

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
Bomb Droppa

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
Hit it Hip Hoppers

You dont got no wins in Mi Casa
I'm warnin you partna

Added (19 Jan 2012, 10:53 AM)
---------------------------------------------
"How High"
(feat. Redman)

[Intro:]

Takin it from the top?
Tippy? Tippy?

How High?....
The Ultimate High....

[Verse One: Method Man]

Scuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a pocet full a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for their culture
Stalk the dead body like a vulture
Tical get, HMMM
Blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house'n projects
I represent the Shaolin my nigga
Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow
It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down

[Verse Two: Redman]

While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!
Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs
The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me wild
(Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide

[Verse Three: Method Man]

10 9 8 7 6 5 4
3 2 Murder 1 lyric at your door
Tical bring it to that ass raw
Breakin all the rules like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours
Fucka, we dont need no rap tour
Id rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture
More than you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all nite store
For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
And end your existance, M-E-T
Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D

[Verse Four: Redman]

I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I dont stop till I get enough
Your shit broke down, light your flare
Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares
6 million ways to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed
The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap
And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass
And yo my man (Tical) hit me now
Bitches use to play me now they cant forget me now
Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock
Empty off a lickin off a hip hop
Fuck the billboard, Im a bullet on my block
How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?

[Chorus:]

Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
It's the funk doctor spock smokin buddha on a train
HOW HIGH? So high that I can kiss the sky
HOW SICK? So sick that you can suck my dick
Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
HOW HIGH? So High that I can kiss the sky
HOW SICK? So Sick that you can suck my dick

[Verse Five: Method Man]

Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home
Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
We dont need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own
Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic
Movin on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast
Hailin from the big East Coast
Where niggaz pack toast
Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block
You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)
As I run around with a racist
My style was born in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, eff a rap critic
He talk about it while I live it
If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it

[Verse Six: Redman]

Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya
Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin blunts an all day habit
I get it on like Smiff and Wess
Who clicks the best
Punks take a sip and test
Who split your vest
The funk phenomenon
Im bombin you like Lebanon
Blow canals of Panama
Just off stamina
Styles not to be fucked with, or played with
Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches
Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with
Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like Diga,
Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens
Fuck the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine
I fly more heads than Continental
Wreck ya 5 times like US AIR off an instrumental
Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
I breaks em up proppa
Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like Rickle
To make your mind tickle
For the nine nickle
(Yo Red, yo Red!)
Punk ass pussy ass
(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)
Word up Tical, We Out
(IT'S OVER)

Added (19 Jan 2012, 10:53 AM)
---------------------------------------------
"What's Happenin'"
(feat. Busta Rhymes)

[Intro: Busta Rhymes (Method Man)]
Aiyo, Tical? (What up, fam?)
You know Busta-Bust had to come see you, God, it's good to see you, God
(Good too see you too, God)
Let's take the streets for a little ride (Okay, we ridin' high)
Yeah, you better light your L, smoke your L
And just (kiss the sky)
Huh! And if you ever disrespect the Bust or Meth (find their mentor)
Yeah, I-I-I think the streets been lookin' for this one for a long time
(Yeah, aiyo) Come on!

[Method Man]
I came to bring the pain, more hard to the brain
Tical... I'm bustin' that ass again
I burn like acid rain, that acid slang
These niggaz try'nna see how I come ash again
Main and evident, I'm huntin', yes, Meth for president
Be in hell with Dazel and George just for the hell of it
And I ain't yellow kid, flows hot as kettle get
Now if you ain't fuckin' with that, you must be celibate
Spaz! Just a little, got a sack lookin' fizzle
Little hash in the middle, where it at? In the middle, yup
Mommy if you got a fat ass, make it jiggle, yup
Put it in my next video shot by Little X
And M-E-F gon' work til their ain't any left
I'm tryin' get what I'm worth and not a penny less
Think fast (come on) bank cash (come on)
Everybody do it with your stank ass (just come on)

[Chorus: Method Man (Busta Rhymes)]
Make you rob somebody (what?) grab somebody (what?)
Stomp somebody (what?) slap somebody (what?)
Make you wanna step to the bar and sip Bacardi (what?)
Wild out, spaz in the club, we in the party (what?)
Brooklyn (come on!) Shaolin (come on!)
Queensbridge down to Long Island (come on!)
Bronx, nigga (come on!) Manhattan (come on!)
To each and every hood what's happening? (come on!)

[Interlude: Method Man (Busta Rhymes)]
Yeah... let 'em talk, nigga, come on Bust
(Aiyo, Meth, let me get at these niggaz) Yeah!

[Busta Rhymes]
Now watch me back your shit up, I hope your people pull up
And pick up and pack your shit up, homey, it's time to move
While I'm singin', ma, do you let relieve you of all of your
Figure seating sketching, never believe in your niggaz (come on!)
Go head and babble you can watch me patiently waiting
Aimin', attackin', instead I'mma let one of my bitches slap you
I ain't watch you when your niggaz'll try
To feel a wrath of the un-rudely waking of a sleeping giant
(Very defiant), once I give you the pressure
And then I apply it and then your breathing is stop and totally quiet (sss..
oh)
Captain of this ship, so call me the pilot
I leave you and your crew to collide with me
Die, stomp on a nigga, just like a herd of a thousand cattle
That'll travel over your face and frazzle your shit
Shot you, worst than a brick and then be torturin' you
And then get the reverend, and get to steppin', nigga!
This shit'll make you..

[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]

[Interlude: Method Man (Busta Rhymes)]
Haha, that's the truth... my nigga
(Nigga, listen, listen, let me talk) Let me talk! (huh)

[Busta Rhymes (Method Man) {both}]
Can't you see what I got for you now
(Shake your big fat ass in front of me now)
To all my high bidders (to all my live niggaz)
{We here to blackout, follow the story now
Just feel my heat, and you know I'm gonna
Just keep the street, but nigga did you
Know when you bout to lose it, my nigga
And you know we gon' get real stupid, my nigga}

[Busta Rhymes]
See the police coming (what?) Fireman coming (what?)
Street niggaz ready to riot and start dummin' (what?)
I love to see it, whenever you and your man frontin' (what?)
Me and Meth'll step to you, quick! And smash somethin' (what?)

[Method Man]
Now who is he? Dope M.C. killin these cowards
Wack niggaz get pimp slapped, give me some powder
Click-clack, one in your back, now think about it
Get back, runnin' your gap, I can't allow it

[Busta Rhymes]
Well every nigga (set it off) you know we seeing it through God
The streets be needing niggaz like me and you, God
Aiyo, I think we're up, seen it from here, we got a mile, yo
Logical, we should of done this shit a long time ago

[Method Man]
I got that shit that make rappers shit in they shoes
Nasty M.C., I spit flows and spit in they food
Man, don't tempt me, I'm nothin' like a curious child
I'm simply, a boy in the hood, with furious childs (this shit'll make you)

[Chorus: Busta Rhymes & Method Man)]

[Outro: Method Man (Busta Rhymes)]
Every day, every rotation, come with it! (Let me talk... come on, hah)
(Aiyo God) Yeah, lord? (Flipmode/Wu-Tang, nigga, ain't that some shit?)
That's some shit, actually truthfully, Busta Bust! (Meth Tical!)
Yeah... (yeah, let me know when you wanna do that again, God)
Shit we can do that right now, shout out to New Jersey, hahaha, yeah!

Added (19 Jan 2012, 10:54 AM)
---------------------------------------------
"It's In The Game"

You know I'm bout it bout it
What? Huh?
You know
Huh?
It's like, you don't limit yourself to one thing
Your mama
Got to broaden your horizons
Broaden your joints
Keep your eyes on the prize
The struggle goes on
Eryday (ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha)
Eryday
And I'ma live it through my music
(ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha)
You know how we do
Choose or lose from it

[Verse One: Method Man]

Pull your shoes up, don't get stuck
or get your frame struck, when my squad blitzin
hittin like Mack trucks, head splittin paper written
in windy cities like Chicago, no bullshhhh
You see me spittin at the kitten with the lost mitten
As we engage in cold war gettin frostbitten
Once again up in these stank drawers baby listen
One mind and for one cause, heavy hittin
The penalty illegal ruffnecks, we bring ruckus
in pursuit of gold lines, can a n---a touch it
If I can't see ya can't truss it
A shady character like Buzz Buzzard
Lay him out like a plush rug-ged
*mimicking Brand Nubian* Now you can love it, or leave it alone
We drink death and puff bone
Draggin your body out the end zone
And any way the wind blow that's where you flow
That's why you be the first one caught, last to know
Body layin out on the flo', substitute
Heavy players from the run and shoot, we open do'
Third and long, quarterback pack the cannon on
I go deep he drop bombs, *whistle* that's when I touch-down
Six points, what now?
Once again who comin through in the clutch now, perfect strangerous
Ever since I came with this, and wrecked a body
You convinced like Lombardi, that Johnny Dangerous
Offensive shotgun
Calm in the pocket I got one, in the milli gun
Deep threats to chose from, that's how it goes son
You win some you lose some, it's in the game

You win some you lose some (uhh!) that's how it goes son (yeah)
You win some you lose some (uhh!) it's in the game ... (yeah)
You win some you lose some, that's how it goes son
You win some you lose some, it's in the game

[Verse Two: Ricky Watters]

From the football field
(It's in the game
You win some you lose some, it's in the game)
To the mountain, yaknowhatI'msayin?
(That's how it goes son, that's how it goes
You win some you lose some, it's in the game)

Freestylin, profilin, won't catch me smilin
Straight from Fema Island, buckwhylin, I'm stylin
A funky type of style with the lyrical incision
S--t locked down, like my n----z out in prison
Good riddance, keep it hidden, up in my knapsack
Sippin cognac, while I vibe off this funky track
Yo bring it back, or make it hit harder
Infiltrate your mind like Nino at the Carter, but smarter
So drop harder, if you wanna conjugate
Verbs and nouns, make it profound as I pound
In your earpiece I'm the beast
To say the least, we must increase, the peace
But keep it real, so I can feel, the skills
Funky fresh rhymes I will build so I kill
and thrill, lyrics spittin, through my lips
Doin backflips, it's another hit
Come take a sip, of the running Watters
Lyrically I slaughter, mentally I author
the rhymes that you feel to the map
Crushin double barrels, sing em out like carols
Who it be? It be I, the n---a with the chinky eyes
From NY, city we committee we gets busy
With killa beez on the swarm
Lyrically we storm, mentally a lord
Verbally I bomb (boom!), guard your grill
It's the man that chill, run for the hills from Grassvile
Drillin rhymes straight on tracks and double cuff
Another TV, and they loved it

(You win some you lose some, that's how it go son
You win some you lose some, that's in the game
You win some you lose some, that's how it go son
You win some you lose some, that's in the game
It's in the game
You win some you lose some, it's in the game
It's in the game, it's in the game, it's in the game, it's in the game)