Grid Iron Rap Lyrics - Tical 2000 Judgementday - Method Man

I Silver Surf the city circuits, forever lurkin 

on the street surface, I spit blood for blood verses 

Grands man divided, we still stand, conquer land 

One man'll body slam Def Jam 

Focus your headcam zoom in, with radio tune in 

I know you're listenin, so I keep showin and provin 

Play the sideline, waitin for the right time to take mine 

Street crime, nickel and dime rhyme 

Fuck a peace talk, let the gun spark, on the streets of New York 

I Shaolin Strut through the city asphault (FED UP!) 

Hold your head up, I'm circlin the block, keep your eyes up 

Wise up, before you get sized up (TIED UP!) 

Play no games, speakin on my name, you catch a clipful 

from close range, diggin in your pocket, take the loose change 

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Punch the data in your mainframe, you want it all 

I want the same thang, strive to maintain, live out my name 

Hard to obtain, hard to explain, ain't nuttin changed 

Leave the same way I came, bringin motherfuckin pain 

Killa Hill Projects, high-tech street intellect 

Let's connect, blow your headset, fuck a mic check 

Ring around the underground, pocket full of sound 

Ashes to ashes, y'all niggaz goin down 

Yo. eat shit and die slow, battle ground no survival 

you goin down, y'all niggaz fuck around 

Shittin where you sleepin, so my rhyme proposal 

came indecent, beef from the butcher sink your teeth in 

Fuck what you believe in, you real fake, fishin in the same lake 

Eatin off the same cake you blowface 

Photos 

Who got that ready-cooked, synthetic look, actin crook 

Betty-shook worm, tryin to shake the hook, as the world turn 

Nigga burn, once again the supersperm 

Rub it in your skin, like it's Lubriderm, time took to write this 

The war will be fought by the righteous 

who stand criticized, by his un-A*Alike-ness 

Knowledge is the jewel, and it's priceless 

Real like them Rahway Lifers, nuttin but time on my hands 

Observe the black sands in the hourglass, fallin fast 

in this savage land, haulin ass, Days of Thunder 

It's road rad, your days are numbered 

What RZA put together let no man tear asunder (motherfucker) 

This is P.L.O., Killa Hill flow, but you don't hear me though 

Live in stereo, pump it loud until your speaker blow 

Ghett-io slang pro, sling rap to cashflow 

Keep it live from the intro until the outro 

Killa Hill Projects, high-tech street intellect 

Let's connect, blow your headset, fuck a mic check 

Ring around the underground, pocket full of sound 

Ashes to ashes, y'all niggaz goin down 

My dick! (My dick!) 

I'm on a suicide run, y'all niggaz know the outcome 

Razor sharp tongue leave scars in your eardrum 

Forty-five bar seminar ghetto rap star 

Slide like water rats through the Staten Resevoir 

Swingin swords cut your mic cords, snatch your rap awards 

Commercial cats, fuckin up the game, that's why I crash boards 

Drape floors while you Jordan, keep on tryin yours 

Hardcore, somethin that my street niggaz is dyin for 

Snap your neck and the dopefiend, Gobol 13 

Professionals we know things, say no more 

Check my Dogs at the Resevoir, gourmet special of the day 

is nigga souflee, pusher gotta pay 

And the games people play, John Jay back around the way 

Fish filet, Mr. DJ, turn it up a notch 

Hit the replay, for dirt bomb niggaz in the PJ 

to cling-on, bring-on, the good times, to key-on 

rhymes that's be-yond, your thinkin, for eons 

I been here, to shine on the black mind 

Tell you like the last time, year of the grimy nigga 

Ragtime, bad sign, flatline.