Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cheka, artist - Method Man. Album song Blackout!, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 31.12.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Island Def Jam
Song language: English
Cheka |
| Riggidi-raow! |
| Steppin out the crowd throwin bolos |
| Fliggidi-flame on! |
| Twin chrome fo'-fo's |
| Loadin it up, pack in the back, ready to splash for real |
| Spit flows out the gill, God tried to build |
| It’s hectic, 45−6 gimme ya grips |
| That’s more dollars in them thongs than them go-go chicks |
| Bitch I’m drunk, pumpin slugs out of cannon |
| Shut ya after-party down when Meth and Red in Check it, Bricks and Shaolin, NO JOKE! |
| And when I hit the pussy call me Daddy Long Stroke |
| Oh Anna, I’m hittin pigeons out in Atlanta |
| Banana-split; |
| HACH-TOO, SPIT! |
| (OH SHIT!) |
| Stickin ya rippin ya four or ya funds |
| I wet ya like a hundred and forty-one water guns |
| Cock d’like Rocky |
| So hold on you bitches RED-METH! |
| Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! |
| Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! |
| Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! |
| Fuck with me and Meth and we break ya fuckin neck-a (Remember this?) |
| Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! |
| (Remember this?) |
| Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! |
| (Remember this?) |
| Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! |
| (Remember this?) |
| Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! |
| Okay to hey hey baby, me and Doc about to blow |
| My Saturday Night’s a Special and their pointed at your nose |
| Aiy-yo, save the speculations and the rumors |
| Comin sooner then you think I knock a fat bitch out her bloomers |
| Givin tumors, hardcore, givin it to 'em raw |
| Landshark, Southpaw, so kids say I Jabb-er-jaw |
| One-two, no ending or beginning to my cypher |
| I’m winning tell the news like Peter Jennings |
| Depending, on any given day I’m representing |
| The struggle, my great grand who lived through the lynching |
| Oh yes y’all, if you got the weed, who got the blunts? |
| Take a guess y’all, Kool-Aid bustin thruough the wall |
| Mr. Meth y’all, AHH-CHU! |
| Comment alllez vous? |
| I used to hawk chickens, now I’m maxin with Badu |
| I represent — Wu, my uzi weighs a — ton |
| I’m swingin the track from Staten |
| cause Staten’s where I’m from |
| — repeat to fade |