Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Meth Vs. Chef , by - Method Man. Release date: 15.09.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Meth Vs. Chef |
| Your skill’s worthy of a general |
| If you want to fight, fight with me! |
| One to one! |
| Man to man! |
| Get ready to gel team! |
| Live and direct from the one-six-ooh |
| We got Tical, pow! |
| Raekwon the Chef, Tical! |
| It’s about to go on, Tical |
| You make the call, I make the call |
| It’s all for all |
| Method Man, Raekwon the Chef |
| (count my shells) |
| And there’s about to be one left |
| (count my shells, nigga) |
| I know you know it’s on kid |
| (Bring that shit I don’t give a fuck!) |
| Who lit that shit it was I the chinky-eye |
| Chiba-hawk from New York, Tical Staten Isle |
| Niggas thought, that they could walk a dog but they caught |
| A bad situation, cause I’m a sandwich short |
| Of a picnic, cause you ain’t equipped with the sickening |
| Style, blowing up the spot like ballistic |
| Missiles, I be comin through like the four-nine-three-eleven |
| Tearing up the power-u, Meth-Tical |
| A bad motherfucking buddah monk, what the fuck |
| Hit your chest, like cardiac arrest, blow the front |
| Out the frame, hit the pussycat for the pain |
| Of the dog shit, nobody move run your garments |
| A rugged vet, durable like a Champion sweat |
| Wrap a power in a tec, to wet |
| A nigga up, with all the dangerous diseases |
| Sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head fever |
| Fucker, I think it’s bout time that you suffer |
| Bobbing on my knob like an all day sucker |
| Bitch! |
| Meth Vs. |
| Chef |
| Meth Vs. |
| Chef (Let's bring this shit) |
| Meth Vs. |
| Chef (Yeah, one more time!) |
| Meth Vs. |
| Chef |
| I blow your fuckin ass to death |
| I’m goin all out kid no turnbacks |
| You could try to front, get smoked and that’s that |
| Lyric assassin, dressed in black rugged |
| Sixteen shots to your mug, from a slug then |
| I go to war in a concrete jungle, making bundles |
| Niggas act funny, and fumble |
| But I relax, count my shells, a lot of heads gotta fly |
| Niggas stay strapped, armed to die |
| Time for jet-black Tim boot, flowin |
| Wha-Su God get him, hit em with the nine troop |
| No question, cha-cha-BOW in the session |
| Bloodshot in that direction, cypher |
| Attack you like chess moves best move |
| Yo, yeah, yo |
| The boards, your ass |
| 'Tack, 'tack, 'tack, uh! |
| Attack the boards like chess moves, best move |
| At Rae through, comin at your motherfuckin crew |
| Live direct, yeah you better step |
| Gunshots ring on the set |
| Let’s jet — motivate, to the gate |
| With some quick high Rae stay fly, and rob your Isle |
| Airwaves, yo behave |
| Now you’re a slave with the boots that paved the way |