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Assed Out
[Method Man:] The
RZA, The
GZA, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck Raekwon the
Chef, U-God, Ghostface Killah, Masta Killa And the
Me—yeah, yeah, come on, now, now What's happening? Who get it cracking like a
neck snapping For the
rapping, and who them fellas packing yelling Staten From the
background, I'll back down a
few Try to clown us in the
past, where they at now? I'm ill as baby powder with the
smackdown, for the
record My brain is like the
project projected, for the
Method Go see my nigga Kush, he got the
best shit for burning This one go out for whom it may concerning Spending they entire earning, trynna get a
higher learning MC's is vermin, like E
be Sermon Ya'll too determined, feeling yaself like Pee-Wee Herman While we at it, let's tighten up our grips around that cabbage Silly rabbits, how many kids'll trick you out your carrots Ghetto bastards and ghetto bitches, I
break you like a
bad habit My dick is two inches too big for it's britches Uh, so fuck a
mister and your misses Cottonmouth niggas X'ed out like Merry Christmas, that all Uh-huh, be home Knock, knock, who is it, Tical I
pop digit My block too hot to visit, round here, you gots to live it MC's, you must admit it, I'm deadly on this mic like Anthrax on this premise, anyone of ya'll can get in I
breathe, Backwoods sleeves and THC I
bleed, kamikazes and forty OZ's America's Most, the
better the
smoke, the
better the
quotes For cheddar, Meth'll sever the
throat, whatever the
coast I'm home, let the
sun shine on, get his grind on And get some phone time, everytime I'm in your timezone Look here, it's crooked letter I, ya'll don't meet nothing but crooks here It's hot in hell's kitchen, get your cookware, for goodness MC's is like that shit chicks be gushing For pushing, got me tooken down to Central Booking I
stick out, as if Tical just walked up in the
party with my dick out And I'm prepared to take the
shit I
dish out [Sample:] "When you realize that what you got ain't what you want" [GZA:] On the, yo, on the
expressway, suddenly, I, um, hit the
breaks A
mistake, patrol figure just, ran the
plates I
pull to the
shoulder, a
half mile ahead The
vibe got colder when the
marksman said "Yo, you in the
truck, get the
fuck out your car Put your hands where my eyes could see, not far" A
fat slob, with pepperspray in the
canister Donut shop lounger, nine mil brandisher Plus my half pound just rang the
bell Of the
bloodhound, had an acute sense of smell I
guess he was tired of the
strip and booking whores Moving off a
tip he's claimed he's looking for Some MC's wanted for a
string of break-ins Last seen wearing long minks and snakeskins
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