| I’ll give you three seconds to come out wit' your hands up, one, two
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| This is my own private domicile
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| I will not be harassed, motherfucker!
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| Welcome to the Meth Lab, listen, it’s time to cook
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| Not confessions of a video vixen, we by the book
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| Start the fire, I can tell what you thinkin' just by a look
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| I’m a crook, like some fish in a barrel, I got 'em hooked
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| Blame the Method, your sanity took, go 'head, admit it
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| You a meth head that live on the edge, just need a push
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| I’m your pusher, supplier, I’m back, the cheese on the wire
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| If a snitch burnin', wouldn’t even piss on the fire
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| Now you kids learnin', I ain’t tryin' to preach to the choir
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| Now the kids earnin' like them dealers that he admire
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| Got that whip workin' like I’m sacrificin' a virgin
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| That’s a burden, but I’m certain you’re feelin' it, after you try
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| You can’t deny I cook a batch like, 'Woo'
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| Hazardous material, you’d need a hazmat suit
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| Now you lookin' at me like, 'What's a hazmat suit?'
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| Somethin' used to move a body, you don’t have that loop
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| Let’s talk about trust
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| I told you not to cook my recipe
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| And you went ahead and did it anyway
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| Cause I never said I wouldn’t cook it
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| Cause it ain’t yours, it’s ours, bitch
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| Hookers in the kitchen, chemistry is the best recipe
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| Especially this shit, I’m takin' on bets
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| Pressure cookers, percolate 'em like chefs
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| Meth labs here to the West, wools on them gear trims grassed
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| Mr. Barker, General, front and center (What up?)
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| Got them burners wit' them bodies on them, have me in cuffs
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| Killer’s focused, slam it up in them trucks
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| Eyes low, grippin' the toast, trigger finger, playin' it close
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| You think it’s a game? |
| It’s imperative, we show 'em we live
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| These niggas playin' wit' this money, funny how niggas die
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| They say it’s over when the fat kid cry, ratchets fly here to the Chi'
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| You think you can stop me from cookin'?
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| You cook whatever you like, as long it’s that B work
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| These niggas be runnin' around in the street wit' everyday
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| Don’t even think about usin' my grade A
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| You should try and stop me, bitch
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| I’m in the meth lab concoctin' another concoction
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| Decisions, decisions, just weighin' my options
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| The formula highly addictive, it’s habit forming
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| Side effects life-threatenin', the surgeon’s warnin'
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| I write a prescription just for meth abusers
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| Regulate your dose intake for heavy users
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| For generations, I been servin' these rap fiends
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| Babies born addicted to the metric, know what I mean?
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| You’re recoverin', but you still use frequently
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| So wet your court hearin', judge show some leniency
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| Can’t escape old habits, so you copy the new shit
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| Wit' your kids in your cars, see, pumpin' that Wu shit
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| We worldwide, supply and demand, I got the upper-hand
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| Check my passport, global support
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| Informant lands non-commercial goods, that raw and uncut
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| That got them breakin' bad at the gate for the re-up
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| What up, Street?
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| Yo, what up, man?
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| We gon' put some «Welcome to the meth lab» on there
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| Man, you know, it’s straight gutter shit, nigga
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| Yeah, you ready to get 'em this time?
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| Yeah, always, man
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| Alright, so I’m a leave it up to you
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| Go 'head, show 'em what you got |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Meth Lab , by - Method Man. Song from the album The Meth Lab, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп