Lyrics Cheka - Method Man, Redman

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