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Текст (слова) песни: Method Man - Crooked Letter I



Intro: Streetlife (Method Man)]
Ooooh! We have returned
Yeah, show you how to flow again (show you how to flow again)
It`s the rap rule again (hehehehe) Yo, yo..

[Streetlife (Method Man)]
Street, Meth, we ride like A.C. and O.J. (y`all niggaz crazy!)
I runs up on you in broad days, I`m a Loose Link
I carry`s the Heaterz, always
Small timers, get left for dead in the hallways
It`s that ill breed, move in warp speed, follow my lead
(Me and my Co-D`s, about to O.D.) let me procede
I`m that O.G., you`re not in my league (you know my steez)
I put the smackdown, on you killer clown M.C.`s

[Method Man (Streetlife)]
I rock for all my niggaz (I rock for all my niggaz)
That`s why I hurt to be here, okay, let me see here
Stat` Land, crooked letter is I, we back, man
Harder than a dick on viagra gettin` a lap dance
Hittin` like a back hand (I slap y`all kids)
As if we in a game of spades, and y`all renig`
John Blaze, not the clothing, cuz some of that is slum
(Son, I`m already knowin`) cut they jeans mad young

[Chorus 2X: Kon Artis]
In the Crooked Letter I, it`s do or die
Shit, every man fights to stay alive
In the Crooked Letter I, you should not try
Meth Tical, Streetlife, Killa Bee, why..

[Method Man (Streetlife)]
Stingy with my dough, even stingier with dojia`
(Told y`all) You`ll never go broke, long as I yo`ya
Maintain your composure, or party over
For stank bitches, who get it, twisted like yoga
Holla for a dollar, yea, and y`all ain`t gotta go home
(But y`all gotta get the fuck outta here)
Who stay "Lo" like Jennifer, won`t see me a lot
But when you see Vivica, tell her she a "Fox"

[Streetlife (Method Man)]
We rollin`, big truck, sittin` on chrome (twistin` a bone)
Talkin` to a bird on the bat phone
Zonin`, out the area, roamin`
The closest you could come to my style, maybe, is clonin`
The omen (I`m warnin` you now!) Niggaz is holdin`
Run up, watch me put one up in your colon
Chizzle town, thugs in the club, like chicks posin`
Lambchop niggaz is sheep in wolf clothing

[Chorus 2X]

[Streetlife (Method Man)]
Beware, danger, shoot off your flares
Warn all your dogs (tell `em we here)
The Stat` (we don`t bust our guns in the air)
Never that, y`all don`t come out til the coast is clear
(Who you suppose to fear) Street, I fears no one
You all thumbs, I probably murder you with your gun
When I start lettin` off (niggaz is jettin` off)
You straight chicken broth, we holes in your terrycloth

[Method Man]
Double O, 3, long time no see
Who mind parts seas, and cause blind to see
Some think this industry is just all rhyme and G
Then he make it to the door, and he can`t find the key
Don`t know what it be, to make y`all follow my lead
Or make this pretty thing on her knees swallow my seed
If rap wasn`t rap no more, what would it be
I don`t know, I`d be zonin` sometime, must be the weed...
That`s that shit

[Chorus to fade]

[Outro: Streetlife (Method Man)]
Yeah, Homicide Housing, Loose Linx
Carlton Fisk, D.C., rest in peace
To the Million Dollar Kid, Y
(S.I., N.Y., 10304) Sick eyes, Size 7
Big Nut, what up (Big up to Denaun, good lookin` on the track, nigga
Matter fact, I`mma call Staten Island the tri-borough, now on
Cuz we`ll "tri" any fuckin` thing) Homicide Housing..
(Fuck y`all)

 

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