Method Man
Tical
*sounds of fighting*
"You've been lucky... I wish I got you last time.
En garde, I'll let you try my Wu-Tang style."
"I'd like to try your Wu-Tang style, let's begin then!"
Intro: Method (and others)
From the tip top?
(Aiyyo aiyyo, what the fuck's up with light dude?)
Yup
One two (no doubt, no doubt)
One two one two
Yo one two, uh, one two one two (yeahh, we gon' be up in that)
Ah one two, uh, one two one two (yeah light that shit up)
Ah one two yo, check me out
Chorus:
What's that shit that they be smokin? Tical... tical, tical
Pass it over here... tical... tical, tical
What's that shit the niggaz smokin? Tical... tical, tical
Pass it over here... tical... tical, tical
Verse One:
Check it, I got styles, all of em sick
Niggaz ain't fit to walk a mile in the dead man's kicks
I make em shit about a pile, of bricks to show
He ain't nuttin but another, a lone John Doe
That wanna flow, here it is, comin up shit's creek
I come to throw monkey wrenches in your program, sleep
and I'ma grow, like a rash on ya nasty ass
In a whip, with no breaks and I'm hittin the gas
It's a bird, it's a plane, take a look in the sky
Method Man on some shit, niggaz call me The Fly
Cause my style, dates back to hoppin turnstyles
Make ya fear, if ya cutie in the chair, you can bet I'll
get severe on the double I harass it
I don't look for trouble, I'm already trouble
Ya bastard, check the wicked flows that I crafted
Open up a deadly venom style to be mastered
By a psychopathic, way beyond an average
Joe, with a hellafied flow, there ya have it
Chorus
One two, uh, one two one two
One two, uh, one two one two
One two, uh, one two one two
Check it out
Verse Two:
What goes off? What goes on? The Meth shit
that we got is to stay high, no question
Lethal weapon, ain't no time for half steppin
When brothers start wettin everything in ya section
Move that, niggaz came strapped, shoulda knew that
Do dat, pussy cat rap, boy, I'll screw that
To' up, from the flow up, don't even show up
To the battle, I heard you rattle now hold up
Is there a fuckin snake in my garden?
Starvin, for a rap treat, steppin on my feet
Pardon yo delf, before ya find yo delf
In a FUCKED UP situation, without no help
I'm not playin, cause I don't play with nobody
God damn kid, know what I'm sayin, I'm peelin niggas wigs
I be sprayin, brother with words
Cause I got a spit PRAAA-BLEM
Chorus
One two uh, one two one two
One two uh... (stick a fat tical in your butt, yeah baby fuckin with tical)
(yeah niggaz better recognize... tical...)
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All I Need
Chorus:
You're all that I need, I'll be there for you
If you keep it real with me, I'll keep it real witchu
Loving your whole schemes, it be in there boo
On top of that you got the good power-U
Verse One:
Check it out
Shorty I'm there for you anytime you need me
For real girl, it's me in your world, believe me
Nuttin make a man feel better than a woman
Queen with a crown that be down for whatever
There are few things that's forever, my lady
We can make war or make babies
Back when I was nuttin
You made a brother feel like he was something
That's why I'm with you to this day boo no frontin
Even when the skies were gray
You would rub me on my back and say "Baby it'll be okay"
Now that's real to a brother like me baby
Never ever give my pussy away and keep it tight aight
And I'ma walk these dogs so we can live
In a fat ass crib with thousands of kids
Word life you don't need a ring to be my wife
Just be there for me I'm a make sure we
Be livin in the fucking lap of luxury
I'm realizing that cha didn't have to fuck with me
But cha did now I'm going all out kid
And I got mad love to give, you my nigga
Chorus 2X
Verse Two:
I got a love jonz for your body and your skin tone
Five minutes alone I'm already on the bone
Plus I love the fact you got a mind of your own
No need to shop around you got the good shit at home
Even if I'm locked up North you in the world
Rockin three-fourths of cloth never showin your stuff off, boo
It be true me for you that's how it is
I can be your Noah you can be my Wiz
Then I can be your Sun, you can be my Earth
Resurrect the God through birth
Best believe
Chorus 2X
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Meth Vs. Chef
Intro:
Duel, worthy of a general
If you want to fight, fight with me!
One to one! Man to man!
Get ready to gel team!
Live and direct from the one-six-ooh
We got Tical, pow! Raekwon the Chef, Tical!
It's about to go on, Tical!
You make the call, I make the call!
It's all for all
Method Man, Raekwon the Chef
(count my shells)
And there's about to be one left
(count my shells, nigga)
I know you know it'son kid
(Bring that shit I don't give a fuck!)
*bell rings*
Verse One: Method Man
Who lit that shit it was I the chinky-eye
Cheeba-hawk from New York, Tical Staten Isle
niggaz thought, that they could walk a dog but they caught
a bad situation, cause I'm a sandwich short
of a picnic, cause you ain't equipped with the sickening
style, blowing up the spot like ballistic
missiles, I be comin through like the four-nine-three-eleven
tearing up the power-u, Me-Tical
A bad motherfucking buddah monk, what the fuck
hit your chest, like cardiac arrest, blow the front
out the frame, hit the pussycat for the pain
of the dog shit, nobody move run your garments
A rugged vet, terrible like a Champion sweat
Wrap a power in a tec, to wet
a nigga up, with all the dangerous diseases
Sniffling sneezing coughing aching stuffy head fever
Fucker, I think it's bout time that you suffer
Bobbin on my nob like an all day sucker
*bell rings* Bitch!
Meth Vs. Chef
(it's my turn) Meth Vs. Chef
(yo let's bring that shit baby) Meth Vs. Chef
(yo, yeah, one more time nigga) Meth Vs. Chef
(callin me out, it's goin off) I blow your fuckin ass to death
*bell rings*
Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef
I'm goin all out kid no turnbacks
You could try to front, get smoked and that's that
Lyric assassin, dressed in black buggin
Sixteen shots to your mug, from a slug then
I go to war in a conrete jungle, make the punt
cause niggaz act funny, and fumble
But I relax, count my shells, a lot of heads gotta fly
Niggaz stay strapped, armed to die
Time for jet-black Tim boot, flowin
Wha-Su God get him, hit em with the nine troop
No question, cha-cha-BLOW in the session
Bloodshot in that direction, cypher
*bell rings*
'Tack you like chess moves best move
Yo, yeah, yo
The boards, your ass
'Tack, 'tack, 'tack, uH! *bell rings*
'Tack the boards like chess moves best move
at Rae through, comin at your motherfuckin crew
Live direct, yeah you better step
Gunshots ring on the set, let's jet
Motivate, to the gate
With some quick high Rae stay fly, and rob your Isle
Airwaves, yo behave
Now you're a slave with the boots that paved the way
*bell rings three times*
Ahh shit!
Chef Vs. Meth Vs. Meth
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Release Yo' Delf
Intro/Chorus: Blue Raspberry
When I first stepped on the scene, niggaz was petrified
Jet back to the lab like they were being chased by homicide
My rap flow does you like Tical, and it will never steer you wrong
And all you bitch-ass niggaz in the industry
your careers won't be lasting long
Chorus
Verse One:
Check it, I'm the fuckin man, who they mention
Notice, that other niggaz rap styles is bogus
Doo-doo, prepare for this verse Tical voodoo
Blazin, the stuff that ignites stimulation
Inside ya, cuz I be that house over water
forgot in the realm that be deep as the Poseidon
adventure, niggaz need to touch they freakin picture
For the sickness, that be spreadin with the quickness
Remedies, cousin I be doin on my enemies
Penalty, then I drink forties to they memories
Emotion, rushin through your down street vicinity
Blunt smoke, in the air reveals my identity
(Tical.... tical... ti-cal, ti-cal...)
As I keep it movin, we keep it movin uh
Keep it movin, and keep it movin uh
Keep it movin baby we be movin uh
Keep it movin, we keep it huh RHARHHH
What's that rhythm what's that sound
Party people getting down
When it hit the baddest man
Just release, yo delf!!
Verse Two:
My God, somebody said it's on, if it isn't I'll be set
To blow a nigga up, with my Five Fingers of Death
I bring it to his whole damn fam, understand
If he frontin, on any man down with the Clan
I be comin, for the headpiece you can't cope
For my brother, I bring it to the Pope, word to mother
Serial, killa, style from Big Isle
No Stat, my peoples are you with me where you at?
Shit's gettin deep in here, I mean thick
Niggaz lookin all in my face like they want dick
It's about to hit the fan, hit the flo'
That's all I can stands, and I can't stands no mo'
What is it? Niggaz think they bigga
Cause they got the finga on the trigga of a pistol
They don't know I'm wicked, when I start to kick it
With the raw sound, wash it down with a Mystic
Then I add a Snapple, nigga want the juice
But he don't want the hassle
Then we try to overthrow the castle
Better yet the tent when I'm comin to your town
Black man, the rental, God, the pistol
YAH! If you don't want a burn from GLOCK
Then beware, I buck shots, we move up, the buck stops
Here, no more dough will be made
Unless it's being made by hoes
What's that rhythm what's that sound
Party people getting down
When it hit the baddest man
Just breathe in, till then
And keep it movin, baby keep it movin
I plan to keep it movin, you know we keep it movin uh
And keep it movin, baby we be movin uh
And keep it movin, you know we keep it movin uh
And keep it movin, you know we keep it movin
Baby we be movin, you know we keep it moo..RARHRAH
Chorus
Outro:
Throw your hands in the sky
And wave em from side to side
And if you're ready to spark up the Meth-Tical
Let me hear you say stim-uli
Chorus
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