Somebody Done F**ked Up Lyrics - Method Man

[Intro: Method Man] 

Yeah... one-two, one-two, it's Big M-E-F 

The phenom from Vietnam, fresh out of rehab, yo 

On my way the weedspot, haha, what's good? 

Fuck that, what's hood? Staten Island Advance 

Big up to my man Magic down in MIA, what up cuzo? 

[Chorus: Method Man] 

Knock-knock, who is it, ah shitted 

Hot peas and butter, come and get it 

Somebody done fucked up, now 

Meth spit it, I comes with it 

Quick to tell these critics, eat a did-ick 

Somebody done fucked up, now 

Y'all done did it, done stepped in it 

Now run and tell them niggaz who the realest 

Somebody done fucked up, now 

Can you dig it, you'll never stop the kid up in the fitted 

Live with it, somebody done fucked up 

Related 

27 Best Ever Songs From Movie Soundtracks 

Watch Cardi B Joins James Corden For Carpool Karaoke 

Ariana Grande Adds Her Own Verse To "Last Christmas" 

[Method Man] 

Look, I'm cutting corners on these clowns, marijuana and pounds 

Found with Staten Island niggaz that run up on you with rounds 

Take a drag, pass it around, guess who back in your town 

And the crowd vict', with Officer Brown patting him down 

Shit's thick, thick as harmony grits, cuz with some thugs 

Ain't no, harmony bitch, them niggaz probably snitch 

Y'all be the judge, look what happened to Cocheese 

What happens when your co-d's is talking to police, you dig? 

Half a cig, let me fuck with ya wig, although you loving the style 

They're ain't a pedophile could fuck with the kid 

Now that I'm back up on my, feet, take it back to the streets 

In the GM with your BM, in the passenger seat 

Riding hood, by my hood, ain't no hike in the wood 

Life is good, it's so good, live it twice if I could 

Man, it's me, once again it's that Wu-Tang 

Crushing the shit that you bring, you know how we do things 

Photos 

[Chorus] 

[Method Man] 

Yo, pulling my shoes up, scuffing my Timbs, back to when? 

Puffing again, who stunting, cops fucking with them 

Feeling the blow, goosebumping the skin, and on the scale 

Of nothing to ten, a ten, man, it's nothing to him 

See you can tell by how I'm clutching my pen, like Mae Weather touching her chin 

She stunting, going up in her friend 

Tell the label give me something to spin, and every light got a price 

You want a slice, but we ain't cutting you in 

Man, these fiends know my past work, held a monkey until they back hurt 

Money talking, wonder what that's worth 

And MCF, mean Cash First shit, picture the kid 

On the beach in Hawaii, minus the grass skirt 

Blast first, ask questions last 

Black herse, nigga, stretch yo ass, y'all niggaz know what this is 

It's New Yitty, this ain't just a fad 

It's M-E-F, and I ain't Biggie, but I'm just as Bad, Boy 

[Chorus] 

[Outro: Method Man] 

Yeah, Big M-E-F, Staten Island Advance, motherfuckers 

Word up, don't ever count me out, just count me the fuck in 

I'll be back for more...