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[Method Man] Yeah ha.. we vibin` Channel livin` all day ha c`mon Yo its me the m-e-t-h uh o-d ???? Sniff a whole key My coke deep Be my consciouss tellin me it dont make sense Then guard his nonsense A niggas best defense is his offense So yo I watch po po And duck a dodo Birdies in them gogo`s Trying to steal my mojo Oh no your`e fuckin with a pro Who go for dolo For sure though A season veteran holy a (dobo???) Come on now judge judy Youre televised through our vision While I black you get imprisoned When my eyes see through your eyes Your hypnotized Subconsciously you change the station to channel live That underground hard-core sound who said it`d die Cause if it is me and my nine`s The first to ride For my niggas Live by the fire die by the flame Happy im gone knowin my son`s gonna be the same As his dough-diggy dog that Who put his feelings on a pamphlet A pen unleash the dragon again uh Im on ya like hot grease on a skillet Gorillas on real tv because they feel us [Verse 2] I`m livin like a hundred in a jeep stolen Wools in sheeps clothng All beef frozen Bust like cheap trojans Nautrally rollin blunts and weed smokin We keep chokin Bitches on they knees open I spit like a automatic semi barking part And if you hear me starin blame the remmy martin So liquor shots ghetto people Dutches and c-lo`s duckin the repo For fuckin them lady c-o`s Rhymes blind devine (evol??) Smoked out in the cadillac regal With a mommy on my beecho Theres eight million stories Only six million ways to die Theres two million niggas getting away with crime Theres two million more whack niggas tryin to rhyme Now theres four million niggas tryin to eat at one time It keeps the thugs gunnin in the blood runnin And the judge frontin Enough to make nigga touch something [Chorus] Niggas fuckin with that strick-nine The models get mine So we gonna be big time Its ghetto buisness Niggas jack cars and rap stars Rockin the cash bars Bitches dancin naked on their lap Its ghetto buisness Niggas hold guns Hot ones steakin` the biscut Ghetto nigga soft cores is ghetto business Yo, drinks and weed son Never seeds son I got what you need son Its all ghetto business [Verse 3] Yo this is for the senile Walking on the green mile My lyrics be like the spirit of a teen gone wild Shit is after ten bitch wheres your child With a nine in his pocket lockin it down like penile I did the knowledge to born Your style straight corn I woke up in the morning Heard your shit and just yawned You fuckin up my high No lie You can die ?????????????? Before i break you up like god Yo its the herb slinger
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