Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Do What U Feel, artist - Redman. Album song Muddy Waters, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1995
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: DEF JAM, RAL
Song language: English
Do What U Feel |
Hahahahahaaa |
Follow… just do what ya feel and I’ma follow |
I’ma follow… |
Just do what ya feel and we gon follow |
Just do what ya feel and I’ma follow (2X) |
Haha Meth Tical |
Verse One: Method Man Redman |
Who want to flip with the acrobatic |
From ground zero all the way to attic what we be smokin Tical |
The reservoir is now open |
I swim the English Channel backstrokin, you don’t know me or my style |
We hold court and blow trial |
You catch 'cal when you browse through my X-Files, who be next now |
Man’s down, hands down |
Foreground by your side when it go down, I dedicate this next dart |
To my fucking heart |
Little Meth he the best part, now walk with that one, word |
Time Time 4 Sum Aksion |
Dreamin bout Toni Braxton, blowin her back out like Bob Baglin |
I’m throwin wrestling holds |
Tag team with Funk Doc, we in funk mode, take yo' best shot |
If it don’t hip it don’t hop |
If it don’t quit it don’t stop, that’s the life |
I be the super-lyrical individual I be splittin through |
That Teflon material to knock Big Ben off of schedule |
Better move with a set of tools |
I be doin it to mics when I’m a, heterosexual |
I load the mic then cock, drop it like three-quarters |
When I slaughter don’t get caught in the water |
Cause the Brick’s got it’s own World Order |
Leave your bitch in shock like the third rail caught her |
Styles stay deeper than orca, I float the seven seas with ease |
Did more drugs than pharmacies |
So call me that lyrical Genovese, you can’t compare |
Get you steppin like stairs, frats, sororities |
Don’t make me bring it on back I fuck up the majority |
Of niggas lookin hard at me, I Port em like Authority |
And when my nigga Meth shine |
Out the inner How High mobile rollin three dimes at a time |
Redman and Method Man still… |
(hiiiigh hiiiiiiiiigh) |
It’s that Jersey representer |
Get hit from the bottom to your head when you enter |
Word… |
Just do what ya feel and I’ma follow (3X) |
Funk Doc break it down |
Verse Two: Redman, Method Man |
Yo, suck my dick out of animosity |
The velocity will fly that head and freeze your camps like pottery |
To give lobotomies to all you rap colonies |
And shunt your million dollar investment, to economy |
Impossibly might be the one in black leather |
Name tag sayin 'caution when wet by the track wetter' |
The hash spreader, I love the grimy shit |
Even my girl did grimy shit to me and I went back with her |
Three years for carrying a loaded handgun |
But it’s forever when a nigga and he lands one |
To your cranium |
That red dot on your forehead it’s not cause you Arabian |
(Yo watch you say to him!) |
You caught up in a tight situation |
I should start erasin your whole organization for makin |
Wack tunes while my whole platoon rock the basement |
You couldn’t come close if I gave you my bookin agent |
Or producer, royalty points twelve shot loaded Luger |
Even a crowd to get you souped up, you’re still wack |
I peel caps, on the regular |
Destroy MC’s et cetera, creep like The Predator |
Fuck you, your label moms and your editor |
Give you two to the jugular, blood be spreadin |
All on my shirt, the king of the flirt shittin |
Bitches hit me off more than New Edition |
(tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet, tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet) |
I make them pigs heart skip a beat from the steel physique |
So Iron Lung |
Get on the mic and break em off a sumthin sumthin |
We moonshine and grow crops |
Purchasin the handhelds with the sure shots, it got me spittin |
These slugs at my competition, in rap sessions |
You-A-P ain’t got no weapon, you lip professin |
Next in, line, parental discretion advised |
These explicit, street linguistics |
Better than yo' momma biscuits, we bomb shellin |
I might know but ain’t tellin, too bad you missed it |
Johnny, Dangerously Blaze another enemy made another due paid |
Color-safe bleach so I don’t fade |
Scar your mental with my double edged blade, razor sharp |
Get yo' bandaids hold that |
Like E said, Get the Bozack, show them wack niggas where the do’s at |
On the case like I’m Kojak |
Kissin the grits on that Flo bitch, flip scripts take LOOONG shits |
Raider Ruckus |
One, I come with premeditated redrum |
Gingivitis to your filthy ass gums |
Bottom line either get down or get done |
Motherfucker |