| Whooooo! |
| Yo yo yo, yo yo Huh..
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| Yo VANGLORIOUS
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| This is protected, by the Red
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| and TICAL
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| Slap it down
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| Way out of bounds
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| Throw in the towels
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| 'fore we gun down
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| Yo, flipmodes, toilet bowls explode
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| When Doc, come drop a shitload
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| Grip fo’s, mushrooms, did those
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| Dee pistolwhip hoes, a bitch owes.
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| . |
| money, bro I stick a zip code
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| Tiptoed, before Doc hit skid row
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| Thirsty? |
| Sniffin out a pig nose
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| My Benz built with wings and 6−0's
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| My flows is, North Pole cold
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| My hands got areas to fit snow
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| Doc, mixin hoes and disco’s
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| My dogs, let em walk with ripped clothes
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| Shows, niggaz pack six rows
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| We’re losin him! |
| His heart won’t get pulse
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| Crack your backs off a ten percent dose
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| Lip closed? |
| I can hum and shit gold
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| Chorus: Redman
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| Tear the roof off the mother (repeat 8X)
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| Yo, yo tear the roof off
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| Yo, yo tear the roof off
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| Back up, don’t make me shoot y’all
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| You don’t, want to fuck with us, you don’t
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| I gets down, rip sound, with this stick style
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| Pist-al, lick round, get off my dick now
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| Get crabbed, hostile, you kids is all sound timid
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| Scared to get in it, these dogs is Rockwild'
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| Unchained, untamed, you know my name
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| Act strange, pack flame, it’s not a game
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| Just ill flows, that kills shows, you can feel yo Kickin in you do', like a steel toe, for real doe
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| Y’all gon’learn, I spit germs
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| When you come short on Big Worm, you get burned
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| Punks don’t get turned, they get done, and get sun
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| Come get some, the last vict-im, lie in a ditch
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| Now who wanna fuck with Hot Nikk'
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| Niggas chew gum with they ass and pop shit
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| Me and Funk Doc get, toxic
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| A bowl of rice and some chopsticks
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| Go make your Wu, just imposters
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| Try to O.K. |
| Corral with Doc and Meth Tical
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| Bar saloon fight, without weapons out (YEE-HAH!!)
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| Strech marks, like belly on Kevin? |
| Lous?
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| One yard to score, only second down
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| Hoes play wifey, wanna settle down
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| Tryin to lock cash? |
| Bitch better bounce
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| Boyfriend jump in, Meth shut him down
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| Pound to echo loud, bout seven miles
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| Doc, Dirty Jersey hunt em down
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| Uncut, rhymes won’t even fit the file
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| Baddest man out the bunch, pick him out
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| Drunk with a gun, miss you hit the crowd
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| Snitches, someone kiss to stitch your mouth
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| Wilder then winos on liquor droughts
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| Mrs. Howell, Mary-Ann, dig em out
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| Ginger watch, with the gun in Skipper mouth
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| Love Da Ruckus, and love to dish it out
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| Pre-washed MC’s, start rinsin out
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| Get your whole camp put on the missin file
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| Pushin twelve out, bumpin digital
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| We Just-Ice, men or mice, ain’t nuttin nice
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| (Fuck your life) Your type just too light to fight
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| We move right, on Fright Night, when niggaz bite
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| We bust pipe, 'pon does that suck tight
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| We alright, you all hype and all tripe
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| In the Source with half mic, you half liked
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| and half dead, blasted on flatbed
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| I’m past dead, eyes red, the hash head
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| Burn somethin, earn somethin and learn somethin
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| Take my turn frontin, Def Jam ain’t heard nuttin yet
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| Suspect, ruffnecks, book em Dano
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| You get bust-ed, never leave home without my mustard
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| Trust this, out for justice, clown
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| And caught on Judgement Day, call Joe Brown
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| Take MC’s to town if they starbound
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| Ashes to ashes, they all fall down
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| Master you bastards with hazardous tactics
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| Semi-automatic full rap metal jacket
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| Blasted in plastic your brain on the mattrress
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| All you kids is ass-backwards and vice-a versa
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| Come on, yo tear the roof off
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| Nigga, yo tear the roof off
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| Back up, don’t make me shoot y’all
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| You don’t, want to fuck with us, you don’t
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| Huh.
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| Yo, you don’t want to fuck with us, you don’t
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| Yo, you don’t want to fuck with us, you don’t |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Tear It Off , by - Method Man. Song from the album Best Of, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп