Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mr. Sandman , by - Method Man. Release date: 15.09.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Mr. Sandman |
| Serious the craziest |
| … d da (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) day da Danger dangerous… style |
| Verse One: RZA |
| Lyrical shots from the glock |
| bust bullet holes on the chops I want the number one spot |
| With the science, of a giant |
| New York defiant, brutal like domestic violence |
| Silence of the Lambs, o-ccured when I slammed in Foes grab their chairs, to be mad as Ralph Cramden |
| Others come with shit, as silly as Art Carney |
| But my Tetley triplizes, more kids than Barney |
| Never need for stress there’s three bags of sess |
| a damn I rest, playing chess, yes |
| My thoughts be sneaky like a crook from Brooklyn |
| When you ain’t lookin, I take the queen, with the rook then |
| I get vexed, layin phat trax on Ampex |
| Morphous God, gettin drunk, off a Triple X Violent time, I got more love than valentines |
| The violent mind, I blast with a silent nine |
| Verse Two: Inspector Deck |
| My hazardous thoughts to cut the mic’s life support short |
| Brains get stained like tablecloths when I let off |
| Powerful, poetry pushed past the point of no return |
| Leavin mics with third-degree burns |
| Let me at 'em, I cramp your style like a spasm |
| Track em through the mud then I bag em We’re screaming hardcore, hip-hop drips out my balls |
| and I be raw, for four score plus seven more |
| I strike like a bowling ball, holding y’all hostage |
| like hail, electrifying the third rail |
| Peep the smash on paragraphs of ruckus |
| Wu-Tang (Clan ain’t nuttin ta fuck wit) |
| Verse Three: Method Man |
| Hot time, summer in the city |
| My people represent, get busy |
| The heat-seeker, on a mission from hell’s kitchen |
| I gets in where I fits in for head-touchin, listen |
| Enemy, is the industry got me flippin |
| I don’t give a fuck tell that bitch and a nigga |
| I’m killin, snipin, catchin murder cases |
| Desert Storm-in, I be searchin for oasis |
| As I run a mile with a racist |
| Pullin, swords, hit the Billboard with a bullet |
| Peace to the number seven |
| Everybody else get the fo'-nine-three-eleven |
| (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) |
| I don’t know what’s going on if you can take us there… |
| Verse Four: Street Thug |
| Yo, watch me bang the headpiece there’s no survival |
| My flow lights up the block like a homicidal |
| murder, underground beef for the burger |
| P.L.O., criminal thoughts you never heard of I switch, the city never sleeps, life’s a bitch |
| I shit, runnin through bitches like Emmitt Smith |
| Caution, niggaz best to be careful crossin |
| the street, before they end up layin in a coffin |
| Don’t sleep, niggaz tend to forget, however |
| Peep this -- my nigga Case lives forever |
| Verse Five: Carlton Fisk |
| What evil lurks in the heart of men? |
| It be the shadow, street-life, flowin again |
| I had a plot, scheme, I knew for sure |
| Only one kid would knock the hinges off the door |
| The jerk tried to jet, Sabrina at his neck |
| Thirteen pounds on the table plus a tec |
| Just when I said, Where the fuck’s the cream? |
| Another jerk came out the kitchen with the M-16 |
| He tried to cock it, blast these shots like, rockets |
| Crushed his collarbone, ripped his arm out the socket |
| My move for the table was swift, I got my hostage |
| (The nigga tried to stab you God!) but I dodged it Niggaz said, Carlton youse a ill motherfucker |
| Cause I made it look like they both killed each other |
| And I’m out |
| (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) |
| (Mr. Sandman bring me a good dream) |