| Hah
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| (huh, hah, hah, hah, HAHHAH, hah)
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| Nineteen ninety-six
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| (hah, come on!) Coming with the sickedest motherfuckers
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| In the perimeter
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| (huh, whooo! nineteen) You hit em with a newwwww
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| (ninety-six, nine six) tree, dick be fly, in your ass
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| (Dick! Di-dick, check)
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| Amazing grace how sweet the sound is of the fo' pound
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| To blast all these sound men that got the po' sound
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| Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers here’s the show down
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| But since we’re broke now with dope sounds now here we go now
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| Check the motion while I be puffin the potent
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| Blow spots and urban networks with other experts
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| Plus this thing between my ear thinks clear
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| And the only thing it fears is the man upstairs
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| So fuck your bulletproof gear
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| If I decide to get your ass you better believe it’s more than a blast
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| (boo-ya) More like rough paragraphs out Alcatraz
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| And ash, your staff, let the grime our your ass
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| Everybody’s hustling with sons toting guns
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| Where Reggie Noble’s from we stick nuns that got funds
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| Bomb niggas like they did in Oklahoma
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| Freez, you’re froze, Def Squad UHH, case closed
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| I be the, sneaky, second dimension, seeping through your sector
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| Have nectar, leaking out you wack rhyme stressers
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| Extra deez disease leave rashes on rappers
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| Makin MC’s so feel the breeze of the Grandmaster
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| Packed with swift solid style structure
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| Simonizing MC’s with the degree of street ruckus
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| Aiyyo who got guns? |
| I split precise, spleen splitter
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| Return my physical presence to the borough of the hard hitters
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| I devour, night sun shower, minutes last hour, weak man’s last power
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| Body, the six four mind shotty
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| The one you handle, second dimension mind vandal
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| Lacerating your retina for tryin to see this
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| As I’m flowin through the prism of the X-3-D
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| See at forty belows I freak flows that burn your nose
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| When you inhale the verbal blows, case closed
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| Aiyyo, why the fuck you tryin to get funky on me nigga?
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| (Aiyyo, why the fuck you tryin to get funky on me nigga?)
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| Yo, don’t you know, who I am motherfucker?
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| Redman’s the name fool
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| (That's my nigga!)
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| Why the fuck you tryin to get funky on me nigga?
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| (Aiyyo, why the fuck you tryin to get funky on me nigga?)
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| Yo, don’t you know, who they are motherfucker?
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| (Crossbreed's the crew fool)
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| Them my niggas!
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| Things ain’t easy, cuz we be, strugglin day to day
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| A bunch of stressed black men with not really much to say
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| Twistin up some brown paper that we struggle just to get
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| All the deaf dumb and blind become mentally equipped
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| As I extend my pen to wreak havoc on paper
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| I execute and burn MC’s like Absolut with no chaser
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| Strong as chemical the general with props
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| Past wreckin mics, I make the Earth shatter like the 7th sign
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| My drama bring about a new aura
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| I’m sending a plague through your town like God did Sodom and Gomorrah
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| The deepest, my vocals actions got you speechless
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| Make gangsta niggas wanna go home and talk to Jesus
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| No man alive could figure we, beating rappers literally
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| X-3-D get up on this three dimensional trilogy
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| Got no love for foes, no respect for grimy hoes
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| Nuff said, X-3-D blowing up, case closed |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Case Closed , by - Redman. Song from the album Muddy Waters, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп