Letra Who ya rollin wit de Method Man

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[Intro: Method Man]
Uh... what´s really good?
Yo, yo, yo..

[Method Man]
It´s the unstoppable, over come any obstacle
Ya´ll know my flavor, pack more punch than Tropical
Any mission possible, do what I gots to do
Labels gettin´ butterfingers, and next they droppin´ you
You think you know, but you have no idea
The Diary of a Meth Man, what´s this I hear?
Somebody told ya´ll, steppin´ in shit was good luck?
I got the hood stuck, chh-chh, now give the goods up
Ya´ll done pushed up, past the point of no return
It´s Meth´s turn, so roll that shit up and let´s burn
I heard Philly got the best ´scherm, out in Cali, they got the best perms
Now that we know, when will the rest learn?
Come on, each one, teach one, hear no evil, and I don´t speak none
Everything cool until that heat come
Just call my name, and I´ll be there
Ya´ll kids is slum, like the jewelry in Albi Square

[Chorus: Streetlife (Shawnna)]
We drinkin´ Henny til we flip, poppin´ bottles til we sick
All ya´ll haters eat a dick (yeah, uh)
Let´s throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks
Tell me who ya´ll rollin´ with (yeah)

[Hook 2X: Streetlife (Method Man)]
Method spits fire (Fire!) The roof´s on (Fire!) My crew´s on (Fire!)

[Streetlife]
M-E-T, H-O-D..

[Method Man]
Man, I´m in the house like foreclosures
Talk sober, until some dog gets forced over
New York soldiers, be at ease, fall back
Never ever, I´m the New Era, like ball caps
Kid, whenever, whoever, whatever, ya´ll want it
Ya´ll can have it, the problem and answer, I´m all that
While we at it, let´s tighten up our grips around that cabbage
Silly rabbit, how many kid´s done tricked you on your carrots
The product of a bad package, like Bishop Don Juan it´s Magic
How I break ´em like a bad habit, hit tracks like it´s target practice
Then let these darts take a stab at it
Niggaz ain´t got it, ain´t never had it
I jam like L.A. traffic, Jellyroll behind the wheel
And the passenger seat behind the field
It´s your boy, physically fit, mentally sick
Get dirty money, told you honey, I´m filthy rich

[Chorus]

[Hook 2X w/o "fire" the second time]

[Interlude: Method Man]
Yeah, ya´ll niggaz don´t know it´s a game
Until it starts again, let´s do it, haha!

[Method Man]
Six minutes, Method Man, you´re on
If you thinkin´ you gon´ slip and be alright, you´re wrong
You can see me lightin´ the bong, while writin´ the songs
That the crowd, is either singin´ to or fightin´ along, fightin´ along
I´m try´nna tell you drugs is not your friends
And girlfriend, don´t try and front like you got your friend
I´m at the hotel, motel, Holiday Inn
And my chick´s a man-eater, she be swallowin´ men
Aight, live from New York, it´s Saturday night
I got pipes that drain your confidence, and battery light
Aight, mami tight, but she ain´t really my type
If ya´ll don´t see me treat her right, then she ain´t really my wife
When I was young, I was stayin´ in school, obeyin´ rules
Play with my food, what makes you think I´m playin´ with you?
This is it, ya´ll better come on in, the water´s fine
Jump on in, let´s do it to ´em one more ´gain

[Chorus]

[Hook 2X]

[Chorus]

[Outro: Method Man]
Yeah, Ladies Love Big John Studd
No doubt, dick up in your mouth
We do this shit everyday, I´m in the cut
With my main shit stain, Ray-Ray Gutter Butt
And we holdin´ it down for the whole Staten Island, man
Nothin´ else but Staten Island, man
Ya´ll stand up, man, Stapleton, the Wild West, Park Hill
Port Richmond, Now Born, Jungle Nilz, hah... Peace!