Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Show, artist - Method Man. Date of issue: 31.12.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Show |
| «Wanna see the world, ain’t scared to do it |
| Even if, your shocked by it |
| Me and you, lost when you do it |
| By myself, better off bein' you» |
| Smoke cess nigga, smokin' that A. K |
| Northern lights, yeah. |
| stick 'em! |
| Uh, ahhh, baby, you know it like a poet, baby doll |
| Yeah, yeah, crooked letter in, uh uh, S.I., better |
| Known as the crooked letter I |
| Come on! |
| Self Service |
| Y’all know me since '93, now let that weed burn |
| Back in this bitch, class dismissed, it’s the return |
| Of the super sperm, game over, lose a turn |
| Takes a germ to kill a germ, when will y’all killas learn |
| Your only as good as your last hit |
| Soon as you put them automatics on safety that’s it |
| I calm them bastards, I call them ratchets |
| Till you blasted, till y’all come ashes to ashes |
| We make classic, huh, bring you a rougher sound |
| You either up or down, don’t get that ass kicked |
| Ya’ll niggas fuck around, y’all only tough around |
| The crowds, scared to bust a round, don’t get that ass kicked |
| What part of the game is this? |
| I came to break bread, evidently y’all killas came to bitch, nigga |
| So, whose the whipped nigga, don’t even trip, nigga |
| Some say they pull trigga, I think they bullshitter |
| I just begun to fight, if mommy like daddy talk |
| Then daddy might get him some tonight |
| Give me, my limelight, give me, my five mics |
| Give me, some weed and a light to get my mind right |
| Is he, the illest M.C., to ever play the tough city |
| To find out it’ll cost you bout a buck fifty |
| Across your face swiftly, my after taste shitty |
| Whose built by New Yitty, whose milked like two titties |
| And I ain’t even got to say my name |
| I got this duck wit her legs up like, «say my name, trick» |
| You think it’s all a game, like pussy all the same |
| I’m speakin' toilet slang, not seakin' hall of fame |
| It’s raw, sushi, stain in your drawers, dooky |
| Quarter a Lucy, quarter more for a groupie |
| That like to pop snoopy, think she gon' pop coochie |
| Just cuz you got Gucci, don’t mean you not hoochie |
| Girl, I tell it like a T-I-N |
| Ain’t no other kids eatin' till I feed my kids |
| Trick, oh, you ain’t crushin', sister, I can’t do nothin' wit you |
| My money’s celebate, honey, and we ain’t fuckin' wit you |
| I do it for the nookie, some say I’m too pushy |
| Only thing better than pussy, that’s some new pussy |
| There that go, looky, it’s gettin' ugly even |
| With niggas so broke, they couldn’t spend a lovely even |
| Yeah, that’s it |
| Yeah, Method Man has just left the muthafuckin' building |