Father's Day Lyrics - Blackout! 2 - Redman

I wanna deal with a bigger asshole 

The streets, it's coming down hard 

We got to get our shit together 

We always had music, eating off the game 

Like you was never gon' run dry, that ain't no business 

No other game is run so disorganized 

Look around you, every hood that's taking care of business 

Is together, dig it, tight? 

I can't spend my life running away 

For what it's worth, how much dirt can I get done in a day? 

I got, clip in the AK., a blunt in the tray 

I'm a beast, fuck the police, N.W.A. 

Ya'll play this game that the hustler's play 

And if you dress in the metrosexual way 

Then muthafucka you gay 

Y'all can save this drama for Kay Slay 

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Like who's fucking my chick 

Or writing books about sucking my dick 

Now I don't give a fuck what they say 'cause once I put on my cool 

They see my life and wanna put on my shoes 

Top of the world, ma look at your dude 

I dig a chick with a attitude 

But I don't let her cook up my food 

It's like these young niggas hugging the strip 

Who got the power to move bricks and buildings 

Never loving the bitch, stripping with game 

Y'all can guzzle a sip, ain't nothing change 

My niggas is off the chain and we don't muscle the pit 

Can I get a [Incomprehensible]? Ayo, this bounce right here 

For all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight 

Soon as I, pick up my pen, I begin my flow 

I close my eyes then write rhymes in a blackout mode 

My Uzi, weigh over a ton, CD plays over 

I do my crime with baking soda, with no odor 

Photos 

Pull out like boat motor streams, crack your shoulder wing 

Def Squad decoder ring, psychopath bordering 

My dog's shitting on your lawn while you watering 

Pay the fine, order him to shit on your lawn again 

D.O.C. get it, C.O.D. my hood 

P.O.P. nigga, N.J. deep baby 

Jersey state of mind, Method Man, lock 'em in 

Ya'll niggas give a fuck, punk, we the opposite, yup 

I hear you gossiping, 'cause we on 

Just because I rock, don't mean I'm made of stone 

My bones is sturdy, I wake up to get it early 

When I bully the streets, my Co-D is Keith Murray 

In a hurry, back down, the boy roll with us 

This how it sound when the voice is transmitted 

Bricks to Staten Island, where babies turn into killers 

That's why my Cadillac bear more arms than caterpillars, let's get it 

Can I get a [Incomprehensible]? Ayo, this bounce right here 

For all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight