[Method Man]
Excuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye
Who the f** wanna die for their culture
Stalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm
Blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your housing projects
I represent yo Shaolin my n***a
Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow
It be goin' down, diggy diggy down diggy down down
[Redman]
While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigger finger all y'all n***as hit the deck
Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs
The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops than that Toucan Sam b**h
Plus the Bombazee got me wide
[Method Man]
f**ing with us
[Redman]
Is a straight suicide
[Method Man]
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4
3, 2, murder 1 lyric at your door
Tical bring it to that a** raw
Breakin' all the rules like gla** jaws
n***a, you got to get mines to get yours
f**'a we don't need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture
More than you bargained for
Tical I stays open like an all-night store
For real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the intent to k**
And end your existence, M-E-T
Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D
[Redman]
I be's the ultimate rush to any n***a on dust
The Egyptian Musk used to have me pull mad s*uts
I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough
Your sh** broke down, light your flare
Since the darkside tears you into Hollywood Squares
Six million ways to die, so I chose
Made it six million and one with your eyes closed
The blindfold cold so you can feel the wrath
And shatter the gla** and second half on your monkey-a**
And yo my man (Tical) hit me now
b**hes used to play me now they can't forget me now
They get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock
Empty off a licking off a hip-hop
f** the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
How you dope when you payed for your Billboard spot?
[Hook]
Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
It's the Funk Doctor Spot smoking buddha on a train
HOW HIGH So high that I can kiss the sky
HOW SICK So sick that you can s** my dick
Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
HOW HIGH So High that I can kiss the sky
HOW SICK So Sick that you can s** my dick
[Method Man]
Till my man Raider Ruckus come home
It ain't really on til' the Ruckus get, home
Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
We don't need your dirt weed we got our f**in' own
Check it
I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic
Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method
Out my f**ing dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast
Hailing from the big East Coast, where n***as pack toast
Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
[Redman]
[Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block
You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped]
[Method Man]
As I run a mile with a racist
My style was born in the pissy stair cases
Dig it, eff a rap critic
He talk about it while I live it
If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it
[Redman]
Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya
Enter the center, lyrics bang like ricochet rabbit
I brings havoc with an A-K matic, rollin' blunts an all day habit
I get it on like Smif 'n' Wes who clicks the best
Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest
The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon
Blow can*ls of Panama just off stamina
Styles not to be f**ed with or played with
f** them pretty hoes
I love those Section 8 bit-ches
Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with
Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like Digga -- boo
Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens
f** the Marines, I got machines
That like to spit and read Mad Magazine
I fly more heads than Continental
Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental
Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
I breaks em up proper
Ask Biggie Smalls Who Shot Ya
Funk doctor with the twelve Gauge Mossberg
Look I got the tools like Rickle
To make your mind tickle
For the nine nickle