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Method Man

Genres: Hip-Hop

The Worst Lyrics - Method Man

Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Onyx 

Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Onyx 

 

Aiyyo, staircase to stage now, major waves 

Tanktop Nautica, flipping your daughter thirty ways 

Yeah who want mine? Bent outta shape, one time 

Play the mall, starin' at your beautiful, sunshine 

 

Watch my shit shift, niggaz in the back, wigs lift 

You know the stats God, don't even ask pah, back slit 

Raw drug raps, thug hats and mob hats, spit on that cat 

This yellow love nigga fuckin' with a rich cat 

 

My shit now, 5 feet 6, with a crisp hat plush 

Throwin' down on thirty bricks, niggaz is with that 

Though, federados locked my man yo, hit lotto 

Three-hundred thousand dollars in the bottle, bitch math is how 

 

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My technique, rover in the robe, gold link 

You know the code read, suitcase money, stow heat 

Rock nave's though, hundred dollar bags valet 

That nigga crabbed me, gamin himself, like Milton Bradley 

 

Yo the semi-automatic glock this, unlock this 

The weed spots get knocked, it's so hot chicks is topless 

Whips are spotless, chrome rims spin obnoxious 

You can't knock this, bust a shot you better not miss 

 

X-1 wild out, and make you watch this 

'Til your eyes turn red with blotches, eatin' scraps out the garbage 

Unload a cartridge, and bust a cap 

X could never trust a cat, Onyx is as hot as it gets 

Bitches fuckin' for free, is outta the quest 

Blow blood outta your flesh, your body outta your vest 

 

I draws the heat from across the street 

Fly you up off your feet, you die livin' short but sweet 

Street crime, time is money, nigga don't waste mine 

Dispose my 9, throwin' your shine, your froze in time 

 

Photos 

 

Lookin' at death, holdin' your breath, laid out 

On the dance floor, blood and Moet, I'm blowin' your set 

Trick twenty G's, no sweat, your groin' in debt 

I'm groin" for broke, I'm blowin' out smoke, you catch a stroke 

 

Wu-Tang and Baldhedz, Swiss foreheads, leave you all red 

X-Million, fully armed, illest beyond your realest form 

Bringin' the storm, forseein' you warned 

Nuttin' keepin' me calm but heat in my palm 

Sleep and you gone, you see what I'm on? Creepin' outta the dark 

Scatter your parts from here to Battery Park 

 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

You can't slam, don't let me get fool on him man 

 

Steal master grab half the cash fast and bash 

And splash yo' class, mash your staff, what 

Nigga get smacked, you ain't worth a punch, hurt your bunch 

Get marked in front, in the wrong circle punk 

 

Mack clever niggaz dat regga' 

Catch you on the D-Lo in Mecca and Etch-a-Sketch ya 

Shake and erase, vacation your space, breakin' your face 

Straighten your waist, twist you, and won't miss you 

 

Official Nast and Killa Bee, full blast, get off smash 

Pull fast for your stash 

Long as the war last, foot up in your ass 

Tryin' to count more math, bring in the hardcore rap 

 

Yo, we be the mainstream supreme rhyme top of the line cuisine fiends 

Number one love for thugs queens schemin' on cream 

My whole team love, the E-cup bras and Mobb cars 

Killa Sin known for makin' niggaz reach for the stars 

 

This terrorist, lyricist in the midst of the abyss 

We cannabis evangelists, iron palms with metal fists 

Wu build, like construction and bang, like percussion 

All the Planet Battery packs com bust and malfunction, what kid? 

 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

You can't slam, don't let me get fool on him man 

 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

You can't slam, don't let me get fool on him man 

 

Holy shit! Who the fuck is dat? 

It's John John 

Sticky Fingaz kid, you got my back? 

I got your back cousin 

 

I got the mack-dozen 

And when them niggaz start jumpin', bust back cousin 

'Cause it's a new year, time for some new shit 

Nowadays rappers dyin' over music 

 

Dead on arrival 

We raised in the ghetto singin' songs called survival 

Duckin' homicidal, you rivals 

Yeah, yeah, Onyx, Wu-Tang, on tracks we gang bang 

 

Chitty-bang-bang, chitty-chitty-bang-bang 

Hot Nix' spit flame, lava pump through my veins 

Caught in the zone, home on the range 

Aiyyo you rang for ferocious, atrocious 

 

We got that super califragalisticexpiala dope shit 

Eight ball in the corner pocket 

We snatch wallets off the white collared 

The Big Apple forever rotted 

Narcotics hunt the hard target, Hot Nix' 

So what the bumba claat? 

 

Pop shit, we do the knowledge 

To shark niggaz, once bitten 

Major swingers heavy hittin' 

Poly your kitten, throw up your mittens 

Stop bitchin', no slippin', no pot to piss in 

The meltin' pot's boilin' hot now in Hell's Kitchen 

 

Yo, yo, Sticky Fingaz, one of the illest motherfuckers 

Believe dat! My moms don't raise no suckers 

I slap rappers, turn 'em into singers 

Touch somethin' of mine and you'll have nine fingaz! 

 

Enough said, let's paint this whole fuckin' town red 

And RIP they whole crew to a shred! 

I got cold blood, I pull yo' plug, I hold, bust 

Show no love, I'm so bugged, shoot yo' home up 

And shoot up the whole club we throw slugs 

 

You ain't no thug! 

I earned every God damn penny that I got 

Son I'm rollin' shotgun in the convertible 

I wish a nigga would what? 

Try to fuckin' jack me, I'll murder you 

 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

First things first man, you're with the worst 

(Fucking) 

You can't slam, don't let me get fool on him man 

 

Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Onyx 

Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Onyx 

Writer: ,

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Outro

Artist: Necro