Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Perfect World, artist - Method Man. Date of issue: 10.10.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Perfect World |
| First, they dropped the bomb |
| Then came the disease |
| Then death |
| This our world |
| Your world, my world |
| I like this world! |
| Yo, on foreign land keep your toast up, hot rocks |
| Catch a close up your snot box, broke up Land shark, tryin to post up, reptiles |
| Trying to throw cub with crooked smiles |
| Take your kindness for weakness, yhey foul |
| New York niggas be lovin how the gun talk, POW! |
| Another underboss pull a doublecross |
| Niggas ain’t ready for the holocaust here and now |
| Want them games people play, catch these bullets over Broadway |
| Twenty-five to life up in Rahway get caught |
| Look deep into the black thought, a holy war is being fought |
| on Allah’s court, my perfect world (if you will) |
| Mr. Sandman, bring 'em a dream, infa-red light beams |
| Homicide scene, perfect world |
| By any means get cream |
| Just don’t let it come between you and I, seen |
| Everything is everything in this three ringed, circus |
| Peoples is swift, tryin to work us, lord |
| with devil worship and satanic verses |
| It takes place in the world, perfect, mine and yours |
| Heard when it rains, it pours |
| I came to bring the pain once more (once more) |
| Pedal to the floor, peep the Jim Crow law |
| The Big Apple, rotten to the core |
| These niggaz want war? |
| (GIVE EM WAR) |
| They schemin and I-Beam'n |
| Hitmen like cryin freeman, they need cleanin |
| Keep it comin til they all runnin, screamin, bloody murder |
| At war with them inner demons, it’s goin down |
| Invasion, U.S.A., spittin rounds |
| If these shells hit the battleground, pave the way |
| for birth of a Generation, X Spoken with a project dialect, bomb threat |
| to the air waves, hit the deck |
| Pressed for time in a world lacking sunshine |
| Got love for my family, cause they mine |
| See niggaz dying in the streets over petty crimes |
| We gonna eat, or die tryin, got my mind made up Young buck, just don’t give a fuck, pressin they luck |
| When they best, best to give it up, perfect world |
| Baby what? |
| Nigga head or gut, them or us Welcome to the dark ages, dirty pages |
| Of filth, fine filth flavors |
| Dust to dust, and ashes to ashes, life flashes |
| Right before his eyes, then he passes |
| While the 666 got more tricks |
| Than the PD’s got bricks |
| From bloods and crips |
| To pips with mints |
| We still lickin the scars from whips on slave ships |
| Mr. Sandman, bring 'em a dream, infa-red light beams |
| Homicide scene, perfect world |
| By any means get cream |
| Just don’t let it come between you and I, seen |
| Everything is everything in this three ringed, circus |
| Peoples is swift, tryin to work us, lord |
| with devil worship and satanic verses |
| It takes place in the world, perfect, mine and yours |
| Uhh. |
| the children are the future |
| And Wu-Tang is for the babies! |