Redbull Lyrics - Redman

RZA came and got me, this what I came to do, come on 

Ring the bell so it's time to eat 

Brick Dog stash weed inta AMI-seats, bomb inside the palm 

Doc rock a wife beater with me beatin' my wife ass ironed on 

The front, my pump built like the Klumps 

To carry it I take the spare out the trunk 

I stay hungry, I ain't worked for days 

That's why you see the pump when the curtains raise 

Blast, don't panic 

Do I gotta explain how I tame and lock 

The rap game single-handed? Hell nah 

I won't tell you son, if I find a wack ID, I sell you one 

Doc and Hot Nick, Inspectah 

My lecture's like Hannibal Lector's 

Where's the ketchup? Don't speak on it, shut ya trap 

I see ya whole crew yellow like mustard packs 

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Ah woo, Doc in my own zone 

You say you got the rap games sewn 

But it's sewn wrong 

I ride through ya hood in a Mr. Softee truck 

Then pull a mac out a box of snow cones 

Yeah, ya little fucks 

Gimme ya fuckin' money 

[Incomprehensible] 

Uhuh, check it 

I'm hotter than a hundred degrees with my coat on 

Playing with a dynamite stick, where did I go wrong? 

Somebody pull the fire along when Jonny stomp 

If ya lukewarm leavin' ya clothes and boots torn 

Pro's and con's, megabomb's and so-on's 

By arid actions try MC's to get their roll on 

First issue, got issues 

Photos 

What is hip-hop to hot nickels? 

It's like Funk Doc to snot tissues, word 

Look at my hand and get the third 

Finger out ya ear hole like "Fuck what you heard" 

Now, that's what I call hardcore, let's act fool 

Mr. Fix-It like Handyman I pack tool 

I been shitty, I'm from the veils of the city 

And just because my outfit match don't make me pretty 

Baggy Dun Gurees, dick need room to breathe 

In a room full of crackers I might cut the cheese 

Ain't no rules to the game 

If it is we ain't playin' 

In your business like EPMD, "So whatcha sayin'?" 

You co-designin' that bullshit yo man tryin' 

Chaka chaka cha-ta tatat 

Slugs flyin' 

[Incomprehensible] 

Yo, ya 

Check, the code echoes from magazines to the big screen 

Fo' wheel machines like ya wits scream, kids fiend 

From the urban to sub-urban 

Roll upon me thirstin' like "Hey, hey, Mister Dream-Merchant" 

We roll longer than dice in a casino 

Cee-lo in the 4, 5 or 6 with double 0 

Behind the tinted windows I lie low 

On some hydro tryin' to slide from the 5-0 

But now, get wild similar to Ol' Dirty 

On third time felon just hit with over 30 

No worries, style have 'em so thirsty 

First degree heats are quittin' on me 

Cold turkey, no mercy 

I bring the pain of a hundred migraines 

But a thousand shoutin' my name that's why I came 

But first bring the cash burst, then the outburst 

My surround sound pound ya ear like Jevon Kearse 

I flex muscle outside I find a next hustle 

Trouble with ya here and face the tec-muscle 

Even the best buckle win, I take it to the extreme 

It gets ugly, but it's what a nigga do to get cream 

This life 

[Incomprehensible]