Freestyle – Lyrics – Method Man
Singer: Method Man
Title: Freestyle –
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Meth-Tical, 118, alright
Sandman 118, this goes to my man big Carlton Fisk
Fiskus, what the deal son?
Comin’ through with the gun, gallion, ahh it’s a Stallion
Hang like gold medallions, check it out
Roll that sh#t, light that sh#t, smoke it
Make that loot black man and stay focused
Whoever thought that n#gg# Tical could bring the dope sh#t
Clog up the arteries quick with overdoses
Lethal injected poem be in the zone
Find me a spot in the shade and call it home
Recline, let a n#gg# drink wine and get a Jones
Mad Max, the minimalist shot by Terrordome
In half with a logical staff, the aftermath
A bloodbath, verbal assault, I’m in that #ss now
How could a rapper get down if he can’t get up
Taught in the darkness, yeah I light your sh#t up
Calgon, oh my god the Black Stallion
Comin’ to your house in the projects, represent
And I eject lyrics from my mouthpiece, check
The style, ooh yeah, across the Verrazzano
Shaolin what, the Isle, yeah
Park Hill Avenue, big up the crew
W to the U-Tang, 36 Chambers Of Death
Check the Meth-Man, oh my god the slam like I’m Onyx
Hooked on the chronic, f#ck the phonics electronics
Got me goin’ through it, can’t do it and just screw it
Baby, F-U it, stay true to it, uh
My life, that’s my culture, I self Lord and Master
The disaster comin’ faster, {?}
The blaster, lyrics Shasta, hehehe, ha-ha
Passed ya, so the stone, the bone
Meth-Tical off on his own, like Patti LaBelle
I might rock bells like I was LL, ha!
But you can’t see that or smell
Any type of lyric I tell like AT&T
Check me, the M-E-T-H-O-D M-A-N
Spread {?} through my sin, oh my god the black skin
Drafted, what the devil, the lowest level
Give him his own shovel to dig his own grave
He’s the mental slave and I’m my death
Took the sh#t, never half step
Meth-Tical rip sharp as the meth
South Pole on your left, not a breath
But I’ma come once again, I choose the gum
No the swine, the gum base, the dextrose on our mind
Ahh pork on the fork, better check the rugged New York styles
From the Meth-Tical, oh my god
You better check the large squad
Comin’ from the uh, hard type of struggles
n#gg#s better bubble for they mentals and get they hustle
If they got to, flex they muscle
f#ckin’ round with Russell Simmons at the Def Jam
Swimmin’ with the fine women, hehe you know my stee
The beat’s goin’ please, now I’m out
Ha, you know the routine, Sandman, the 118, huh
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Lyrics Method Man – Freestyle –
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