| Traces of lipstick on my collar
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| Baby you got to do some more to get this last dollar
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| Hotter than lava when you come believe that I’ma follow
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| Lady Medana liketo drink, but she don’t like to swallow
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| Rockin' that Prada, Honey stay up in the beauty parlor
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| Girl it would be my honour, make you my babymomma
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| Holler she hella proper, fuck with tha dumbin' cousin
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| Sucka for lovin'-buggin', shockin' them duckin' buckin'
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| Suckin' then finga-fuckin', then let me show you somethin'
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| I’ll knock the stuffin' off that English Muffin
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| Can’t tell me nuthin', uhn uhn
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| Pushin' yo' panty botton when I’m stuckin'
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| All of a sudden, baby gun-duckin', BBC! |
| Oh girl you nasty
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| Yo' I get it on poppin'
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| Doc, unlockin' yo' doors, clockin' my drawers
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| Suckin' your mouth with a torn stockin'
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| Rapped around and knockin', I’m creepin' when you parkin'
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| Shoot out the lights, darken the area, then hop in
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| Pick up my bigga nigga who helped me figured the plottin'
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| Droppin' the tops, splittin' the dough
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| Shoppin' in rotten--New York, first flockin'
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| Because I’m heavy like Bo stockin' coat
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| Watch ya coat from Fo sparkin', they leave the parking
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| Niggas unforgetable can be forgotten
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| Doc and Meth entering the top ten!
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| Choppin' it raw, lockin' 'n blockin'
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| Only raw choppin', it’s metaphores, so cops can stop watchin'
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| I put 'em in and cock 'em, ready to rock 'em stock 'em
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| Renovate your appartment, when these two things barkin'
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| My Mackamichi knockin', bougie hoes be spottin' on they tampons
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| I get 'em drippin' like Licky Falls
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| : Redman,
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| Now who a bitch nigga?!
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| Now who the shit nigga?!
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| Now who you with nigga?!
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| Who rock shit nigga?!
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| Come on! |
| Come on!
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| Come on! |
| Come on!
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| Come on! |
| Come on!
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| Come on! |
| Come on!
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| I figured it out: ya’ll niggas ain’t as big as yo' mouth
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| My street-value well it ain’t won’t even fit in yo' couch
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| When I bust titties come out
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| No matter what city hardcore committee’s dumb to fuck out
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| Son’s ya duck out! |
| Nuthin' to lose, poppin' a two up in ya goose
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| Buckle yo shoes, cuffle my boots, fuckin' with you
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| Blow my Anaconda like Nirvana
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| Marijuana got bitches on they knees in they Gabbanas
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| Gettin' 'em dirty dirty with the hersey and the bombin'
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| Holla the drama, fire two in ya armor
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| Ya pigeon betta call ma, the ice is a honor
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| Twin help me lift her arm up, lebaba (?) with ya momma
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| Even dirty her donna, my dick is heronomic
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| Pull out a young Geroni-mo, BBC! |
| Oh girl you nasty
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| Itchin' to start the mission, flippin' so keep yo' distance
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| Ain’t go no pot to piss in? |
| Ain’t got no competition
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| Listen, I slip the clippin', trippin' you get me lippin'
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| Come mis and catch a whippin', now kids is actin' different
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| Ditchin' them double-dippin', chickens that keep forgettin'
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| I ain’t the one for trickin', on anybody kickin'
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| Rippin' these compositions, scrippin' them paper-written
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| Hold 'em and hit 'n stickin', ballin' like Scottie Pippen
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| It’s hot in Hell’s Kitchen, but still I’m force spittin'
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| Shittin' like 'No he didn’t', wipin' my ass and splittin'
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| Chattin' like Joe gettin'
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| All in the zone settin' it off like Big Daddy
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| And ain’t no half-steppin'…I keep reppin'
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| Staten you keep sweatin', frontin' and ass-bettin'
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| Duckin' my Smith & Wessum, trashin' the Meth and catchin'
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| Hell, we leave you restin' in PEACE, BBC! |
| Oh girl you nasty |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Y.O.U. , by - Method Man. Song from the album Best Of, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп