| Come on
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| Mr. Meth and Doc
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| Dj Scratch on the track
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| Break your motha fuckin back
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| Ah yo yo
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| My, lyric is 8 ball
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| Batter up play ball
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| Fuck ya’ll analog
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| Niggas we be digital, subliminal, come in
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| From the 5 star general
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| Attack you from the blind side, invisible
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| To the naked eye
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| Where them criminals
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| Better have your 8 essential vitamins and minerals
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| The wu is coming through you know the outcome
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| Critical
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| Condition in your physical for injurin
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| The officer and gentleman who stack by the benjamen
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| Off a beat like this
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| I keep a night stick
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| In case any stick up care where heat might miss
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| I chicken fry rice bitch
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| In a white trench
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| Bustin off two macks I’m like «I'm hit»!!!
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| I’m just playin, I clear the croud out
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| Like a peppa can sprayin
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| I throw lightin out the arms raiden
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| Go guard your pray
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| Next year I do nothin more than Y2k
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| We say
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| Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2
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| Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2
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| We say
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| Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 we say
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| Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2
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| We say
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| Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2
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| Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2
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| And if you say fuck me
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| I’m a say fuck you
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| Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2
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| From deputant down to stripper
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| I’m too nonchalaunt
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| A drink mixed with four kinds of liquors
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| Catch me at the bar «Fu Bar»
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| Ladies know who we are and
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| Dream of fuckin a star
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| Who da scrub
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| Shotgun in this man car
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| Burnin up
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| Forever gettin thrown out the club
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| It be us Paul
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| Shot out and bugged
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| I smoke bud, sniff a bee’s ass to get a buzz
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| I’m everything you think you don’t know
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| I throw a 5 in the power
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| Poppa wheely with the front end hittin speed bumps, 40 miles per hour
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| I’m out at Howard, next to Baltimore
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| Takin change out the fountains at shoppin malls
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| Rats can only afford Chuck E Cheese
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| The blood in my jeans is tough like Buddy Lee
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| Semi-dart auto off ya, blood coughin
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| Meth pull the last spark plug with a heart pump
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| Call me will, enemy I state
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| When 4 Doc run the scam
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| New jacks studderin, that the man from the upperhand
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| Punch, atomic bomb I hit many
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| From Bricks to South Park you dyin with Kenny
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| While you bailin I’m trailin
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| Rockin hard hat helmets clip the satellite servallence
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| When I walk by you better not be kickin
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| Or I put two more in that terriyaki chicken
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| You’ve just been fitted for them seeman shoes
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| This is bottom of the lake raps
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| Stab you in the back
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| Kung Fu
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| 52 cops can’t withstand the 52 blocks
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| Unless they bust like 52 shots
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| I’m the has been that have not
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| Battle kids at Maxwell’s house
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| Know when I’m good to the last drop
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| What’s my name Meth he’s name Doc
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| Just like urban
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| See me in the gran transportation splurgin
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| Drivin with a turban who push a black suburban (come on)
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| We rollin windows half down through the urban
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| Network law lay it down like a persian
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| M to the E to the F, spell curtain
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| Get out your car sucker
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| This ain’t yours
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| Robbed you with a gun that filled with paint balls
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| And brauds got the nerve to act funny
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| You a champaine ho, with kool aide money
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| Frown bitch, Doc up in that town quick
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| You back down a point on nfl blitz
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| I’m lyin buddah break fool and take two
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| And put your hole in the earth to escape through
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| Dj Scratch
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| Not ready for prime time playas
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| Mr. Meth, Funk Doc
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| Def Jam 2000 mutha fuckasssssss!!!
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| Calm me down baby
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| Nod your head to this
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| Come on
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| Ey yo this is wkya radio
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| We kickin your motha fuckin ass
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| Yo Flex
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| That’s right it’s goin down
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| Redman, Method Man blackin the funk out
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| Now listen |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song 1, 2, 1, 2 , by - Method Man. Song from the album Blackout!, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп