Текст (слова) песни: Method Man - Who Ya Rollin Wit

f/ Shawnna, Streetlife

[Intro: Method Man]
Uh... what`s really good?
Yo, yo, yo..

[Method Man]
It`s the unstoppable, over come any obstacle
Ya`ll know my flavor, pack more punch than Tropical
Any mission possible, do what I gots to do
Labels gettin` butterfingers, and next they droppin` you
You think you know, but you have no idea
The Diary of a Meth Man, what`s this I hear?
Somebody told ya`ll, steppin` in shit was good luck?
I got the hood stuck, chh-chh, now give the goods up
Ya`ll done pushed up, past the point of no return
It`s Meth`s turn, so roll that shit up and let`s burn
I heard Philly got the best `scherm, out in Cali, they got the best perms
Now that we know, when will the rest learn?
Come on, each one, teach one, hear no evil, and I don`t speak none
Everything cool until that heat come
Just call my name, and I`ll be there
Ya`ll kids is slum, like the jewelry in Albi Square

[Chorus: Streetlife (Shawnna)]
We drinkin` Henny til we flip, poppin` bottles til we sick
All ya`ll haters eat a dick (yeah, uh)
Let`s throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks
Tell me who ya`ll rollin` with (yeah)

[Hook 2X: Streetlife (Method Man)]
Method spits fire (Fire!) The roof`s on (Fire!) My crew`s on (Fire!)

[Streetlife]
M-E-T, H-O-D..

[Method Man]
Man, I`m in the house like foreclosures
Talk sober, until some dog gets forced over
New York soldiers, be at ease, fall back
Never ever, I`m the New Era, like ball caps
Kid, whenever, whoever, whatever, ya`ll want it
Ya`ll can have it, the problem and answer, I`m all that
While we at it, let`s tighten up our grips around that cabbage
Silly rabbit, how many kid`s done tricked you on your carrots
The product of a bad package, like Bishop Don Juan it`s Magic
How I break `em like a bad habit, hit tracks like it`s target practice
Then let these darts take a stab at it
Niggaz ain`t got it, ain`t never had it
I jam like L.A. traffic, Jellyroll behind the wheel
And the passenger seat behind the field
It`s your boy, physically fit, mentally sick
Get dirty money, told you honey, I`m filthy rich

[Chorus]

[Hook 2X w/o "fire" the second time]

[Interlude: Method Man]
Yeah, ya`ll niggaz don`t know it`s a game
Until it starts again, let`s do it, haha!

[Method Man]
Six minutes, Method Man, you`re on
If you thinkin` you gon` slip and be alright, you`re wrong
You can see me lightin` the bong, while writin` the songs
That the crowd, is either singin` to or fightin` along, fightin` along
I`m try`nna tell you drugs is not your friends
And girlfriend, don`t try and front like you got your friend
I`m at the hotel, motel, Holiday Inn
And my chick`s a man-eater, she be swallowin` men
Aight, live from New York, it`s Saturday night
I got pipes that drain your confidence, and battery light
Aight, mami tight, but she ain`t really my type
If ya`ll don`t see me treat her right, then she ain`t really my wife
When I was young, I was stayin` in school, obeyin` rules
Play with my food, what makes you think I`m playin` with you?
This is it, ya`ll better come on in, the water`s fine
Jump on in, let`s do it to `em one more `gain

[Chorus]

[Hook 2X]

[Chorus]

[Outro: Method Man]
Yeah, Ladies Love Big John Studd
No doubt, dick up in your mouth
We do this shit everyday, I`m in the cut
With my main shit stain, Ray-Ray Gutter Butt
And we holdin` it down for the whole Staten Island, man
Nothin` else but Staten Island, man
Ya`ll stand up, man, Stapleton, the Wild West, Park Hill
Port Richmond, Now Born, Jungle Nilz, hah... Peace!

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Меню » Главная » Музыка » Правила » В избранное	Музыка RU: 0-9 А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я EN: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z Текст (слова) песни: Method Man - Who Ya Rollin Wit f/ Shawnna, Streetlife [Intro: Method Man] Uh... what`s really good? Yo, yo, yo.. [Method Man] It`s the unstoppable, over come any obstacle Ya`ll know my flavor, pack more punch than Tropical Any mission possible, do what I gots to do Labels gettin` butterfingers, and next they droppin` you You think you know, but you have no idea The Diary of a Meth Man, what`s this I hear? Somebody told ya`ll, steppin` in shit was good luck? I got the hood stuck, chh-chh, now give the goods up Ya`ll done pushed up, past the point of no return It`s Meth`s turn, so roll that shit up and let`s burn I heard Philly got the best `scherm, out in Cali, they got the best perms Now that we know, when will the rest learn? Come on, each one, teach one, hear no evil, and I don`t speak none Everything cool until that heat come Just call my name, and I`ll be there Ya`ll kids is slum, like the jewelry in Albi Square [Chorus: Streetlife (Shawnna)] We drinkin` Henny til we flip, poppin` bottles til we sick All ya`ll haters eat a dick (yeah, uh) Let`s throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks Tell me who ya`ll rollin` with (yeah) [Hook 2X: Streetlife (Method Man)] Method spits fire (Fire!) The roof`s on (Fire!) My crew`s on (Fire!) [Streetlife] M-E-T, H-O-D.. [Method Man] Man, I`m in the house like foreclosures Talk sober, until some dog gets forced over New York soldiers, be at ease, fall back Never ever, I`m the New Era, like ball caps Kid, whenever, whoever, whatever, ya`ll want it Ya`ll can have it, the problem and answer, I`m all that While we at it, let`s tighten up our grips around that cabbage Silly rabbit, how many kid`s done tricked you on your carrots The product of a bad package, like Bishop Don Juan it`s Magic How I break `em like a bad habit, hit tracks like it`s target practice Then let these darts take a stab at it Niggaz ain`t got it, ain`t never had it I jam like L.A. traffic, Jellyroll behind the wheel And the passenger seat behind the field It`s your boy, physically fit, mentally sick Get dirty money, told you honey, I`m filthy rich [Chorus] [Hook 2X w/o "fire" the second time] [Interlude: Method Man] Yeah, ya`ll niggaz don`t know it`s a game Until it starts again, let`s do it, haha! [Method Man] Six minutes, Method Man, you`re on If you thinkin` you gon` slip and be alright, you`re wrong You can see me lightin` the bong, while writin` the songs That the crowd, is either singin` to or fightin` along, fightin` along I`m try`nna tell you drugs is not your friends And girlfriend, don`t try and front like you got your friend I`m at the hotel, motel, Holiday Inn And my chick`s a man-eater, she be swallowin` men Aight, live from New York, it`s Saturday night I got pipes that drain your confidence, and battery light Aight, mami tight, but she ain`t really my type If ya`ll don`t see me treat her right, then she ain`t really my wife When I was young, I was stayin` in school, obeyin` rules Play with my food, what makes you think I`m playin` with you? This is it, ya`ll better come on in, the water`s fine Jump on in, let`s do it to `em one more `gain [Chorus] [Hook 2X] [Chorus] [Outro: Method Man] Yeah, Ladies Love Big John Studd No doubt, dick up in your mouth We do this shit everyday, I`m in the cut With my main shit stain, Ray-Ray Gutter Butt And we holdin` it down for the whole Staten Island, man Nothin` else but Staten Island, man Ya`ll stand up, man, Stapleton, the Wild West, Park Hill Port Richmond, Now Born, Jungle Nilz, hah... Peace! Нравится песня? Расскажи о ней друзьям: Прямая ссылка на текст песни Who Ya Rollin Wit: http://musworld.ru/music/eng/112/1/6807.html Все тексты песен: Method Man » Method Man - Sucker MC`s » Method Man - Shaolin What » Method Man - Know Your Role » Method Man - N.Y.C. 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