| Street Life
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| Yo yo, enta, enta, enta, enta yo It’s the synical, lyrical rap individual
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| On my death bed I spit sick flows that’s critical
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| I’m not a fan of this, I’m a mic vandalist
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| Thug therapist, my clan’s too original
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| My slang bang to wax, words that’s visual
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| Too digital for y’all common street criminals
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| Who wanna come test, lick the sweat from my genitals
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| We can get off the mic and get a little physical
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| I was born to rock since they cut my umbilical
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| Cord, I swing swords, behold the prolifical
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| Rhyme writer, hip-hop provider, prize fighter
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| Live wire, quick to set the mic on fire
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| I speak legalized dope, hitman for hire
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| I «e murderous notes, dope rhyme supplier
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| Hang glide on the mic like a stunt driver
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| And I won’t stop rockin till I retire
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| Redman
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| Yo yo yo
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| When it comes to the darts, I throw em Flamethrower, blow your section-eight home to your payphone up Grass smoker, in the cut for the lawnmower
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| I water, I ride the wale that ate Jonah
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| Over, your faced wit the black cape over
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| You woke up four gorillas wit a makeover
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| Packin a punch, asthma pump takeover
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| My crew boards, and the whole plane lays over
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| (YO YO!) You can’t talk wit the tape over
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| Pass the pussy, get out, date’s over
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| Back to your gray Nova that’s way slower
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| Redline to five on the highway shoulder
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| Enemies say «Doc the one to play closer»
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| This baboon loose off the chain choker
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| Hardcore, ?jacore? |
| I hate poker
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| But y’all spread when my bullet’s daytona
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| Comin through, comin through duck
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| Run for cover (BASS!)
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| Method Man
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| Yo yo this ain’t ya granddaddy music, it’s hip hop
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| Comin through your woofer like a mute kit
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| Hundred-thousand watts on some bullshit
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| I blackout eclipse wit the semi bust a full clip (CLAP OUT!)
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| Touch one if any, that’s my complexing conquest
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| Now tell that shit to the court, I plead no contest
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| >From none of y’all, please
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| I potty train pissy-ass rugrat for free
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| Keep the cake for the family and off Sarah Lee
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| That’s how we do, powerful, movin on ya left!
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| Mista who, Meth, black gorilla, beatin on his chest
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| I suggest, you pay yo’debt or Protect Ya Neck
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| I suggest, you wear a vest makin all them threats
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| Here’s a chin check that cash and splash niggas in half
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| Smash rappers like hash (smoke em down to ashes)
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| At last it’s the crew that party crashes the masses
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| Madness wildin out like special ed classes
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| Ghostface Killah
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| Straight out the gate, meet Tony
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| Don of all dons, behind New York King Tut wit one arm
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| Been at nutcrunch last cinnamon toast wit power rose
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| Whips dirty, dustin my bitch, FUCK PAROLE!
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| Peace shout he’s Wallee Timb’s, wild out (wild out)
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| We in the spot, guns go off though
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| Came out his mask it was Ollie North
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| Oh shit, what up what up Ghost
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| Congratulations on your new flick
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| Burn it dead who max the most
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| Word up you got the most Clarks
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| Bravehearts spin this
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| For under come down in the pale he need minutes
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| Told y’all before I kick doors off the hinges
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| Ain’t no cooler and there ain’t no Guiness
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| Money like Barry Blue, Keanu Reeves wit bench slippers
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| Play the PGA Tour wit Jack Nicklaus
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| Statues of Mary, gas that bust mercury
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| Sit through the biggest storm and hand out turkey
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| Redman
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| Yeah, yeah, yeah, WHUUUA!!!
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| That’s the way I like it Method Man
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| PISSY ASS RUSTY ASS NIGGAS! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Run 4 Cover , by - Method Man. Song from the album Blackout!, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп