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...)

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

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

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