| Yo, yo, yo From the heart of Medina to the head of Fort Greene
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| Now-Y-C/Now I see Everything
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| Niggas who sling, Shaolin cats throw inside a bing
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| Bobby Digital got the golden seal sting
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| Rhyme star, I write a hundred thousand dollar bar
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| My pinstripe comma deletes your power bar
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| Dr. Octopus tentacles, same as different song
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| Bob Digital instrumental, nothing’s indentitcal
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| You biter, non-writer, Mr. Potato Head or Ida
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| Deep-fried crinkle cut, one nickel cup fucked your whole LP up You must be stupid you liar
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| I’m the purifier, live wire, hip-hop reviver
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| A suicide mission you’re committin, go against the Wu-Tang henchmen
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| Perfect precision marksman, spit darts an, flip charts 'an
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| Archery, shots aimed at your heart then
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| Daffy Duckest will still +Bring Da Motherfuckin Ruckus+
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| Project Killa Hill be the buckest
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| Smoke blunts drink Bud Light beer wit Buzz Lightyear
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| Wet from here to infinity for them white hair
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| Bobby Digital, overthrow your whole citadel
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| Mista pitiful, your whole shrap stack is dispicable
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| Undernourished, your shit cannot flourish
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| Cherish every moment of his love before you perish
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| Bitch, chicka chicka chich, watch me switch
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| Lookin for a bird, I can hitch, into your atmosphere
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| Take your pussy out like a pap smear
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| Make you smile, at the same time crack a tear
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| Smack ya rear, vagina saliva, Trojan wear, rough rider
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| Up inside ya, dick applehead, opens up your clit wider
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| Taste the apple cider, you become strong, then become a? |
| prider?
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| (Bobby Bobby Bobby, Digi Digi Digi)
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| Stuck to your ass like a Victoria’s Secret wedgie
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| Heart of Medina to the head of Fort Greene
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| Now-Y-C/Now I see Everything
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| Niggas who sling, Shaolin cats thrown inside the bing
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| Bobby Digital got the killa bee sting
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| From the heart of Medina to the head of Fort Green
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| Now-Y-C Everything, niggas who sling
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| Shaolin cats is thrown inside the bing
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| Bobby Digital got the killa bee sting
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| Drink a Heineken, as we go inside the mind again
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| Nevermindin men droppin gem, can he shine again
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| Most definate, let this be my last willing testament
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| For the pesimist, exercise for the Exorcist
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| Johnny Treacherous, like Three, I’m supposed to be Perpetuous, desimate the poetry cuz everything is close to me The lectorous, Jonathon, king of the seven seas, battle wit Leviathon
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| The Methodist, poly to your deficit, hit it up If I can’t live it up somebody gotta give it up John J., blow em out the water adopt the Bombey
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| Your bitch look like Stronjay, look at me the wrong way
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| Burn one and sautee, bringin you different ways to sword play
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| They bustin Bullets Over Broadway, Deep Cover
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| I’m like Larry when the Fish-burn, I burn rubber
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| Cuz I’m not an easy lover
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| To the midnight, butt naked wit a knife
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| Ask my alien likes, I’ve been crazy all my life
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| Hardtime homicide, time flys, do or die
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| Crooked ass and crooked eye, scripture from the darkside
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| Johnny 5, I reside, in the killa bee hive,
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| only the strong gon’survive
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| From the depths of the killa to the top, we’re now born
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| Wildin on Staten Island be the poet John John
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| Can’t forget Bobby, if I did I’d feel gyp
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| Like my sandwich ain’t a sandwich without Miracle Whip
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| From the depths of the killa to the top, we’re now born
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| Wildin on Staten Island be the poet John John
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| Can’t forget Digi, if I did I’d feel gyp
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| Like my sandwich ain’t a sandwich without Miracle Whip |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song N.Y.C. Everything, artist - Method Man. Album song Wu-Chronicles: Chapter 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп