Styles P - Ya'meen lyrics

[Intro: Method Man] Yo, I'm bout to hit you with this ya'meen On top of the ya'meen, with a lil' bit of ya'meen mixed in Ya'meen? Yeah... yeah... yo [Method Man] How should I get it started, f** it, just get it started These trash talking artists is nothing, n***as is garbage When Meth strike his target, leave it dearly departed His flow is clearly the hardest, y'all gon' feel me regardless Might break a promise, but never, breaking the code Some get popped and call for they mamma, when the drama unfolds My block, hot as a sauna, never wind up and joke Crack deals on every corner, fiends wanna foam you with soap And, if life's a b**h, then I bet she bitter and cold Everytime she thinking I fold, seven figures get sold Meth, all in your chest, or inhale it all in your nose Cops don't know about this Method, but smell it all in his clothes Yup, I'm still intact, how real is that, I'm back With enough Sensamilla to fill ya vanilla wraps up New York, New York, rock tube socks and Timberlands Cuz hip hop ain't feeling them flip-flops, they feminine [Hook: Method Man] I'm the one shot dealing, one shot k**ing it (ya'meen) Yeah, it's the top billing, the block feeling like (ya'meen) Yeah, f** with me (ya'meen), yeah, f** with me (ya'meen) If you not for squealing, and for spilling the (ya'meen) The streets is watching the apple rotten like (ya'meen) Plus the B.B. hot and the towers dropping like (ya'meen) Yeah, f** with this (ya'meen), yeah, f** with this (ya'meen) If you get it popping, or get to popping 'em (ya'meen) [Fat Joe] You know the haters diss you, let's deal with bigger issues You know New York is dying after all the sh** we been through And we done lost B.I.G., we done lost Pun Homey, you can't live, gotta go and get them guns You know the hammers'll lose your cabbage, them dudes do damage Send Zulu Nation through Reaganomics, we move them package We pushing rain pain, gotta go and get that money Y'all going "hey hey", but don't that pen look lovely You - must - not - know - who - y'all n***as is f**ing with I - can - take - life - nig... just for the f** of it Crack's crazy, that n***a'll smack babies Clap ladies for yackin' you gon' catch shady Call it a ma** shower, the way them hollow's drizzle Mr. Potato Head, you know them things can't miss you The Average Joe, with an average flow Me and Meth bringing back New York, n***a [Hook] [Styles P.] You don't like me, you can get what's right above the testicles S.P., turn your top five into vegetables You don't believe me, get 'em all in a room And the next five, I plan to getting all of them soon Y'all can meet me at the table that's round, or get ya place in the ground That's what you get, when you facing me, clown Who got the crown, I'm piss on it now, while you wearing it Nobody nicer than Ghost, I ain't hearing it Been Nike Airing it, white tee out Stick-up kid season when the dice be out I'm a thug or star investing in living, n***as sippin' soup Ghost rapper, knocking out your icey mouth n***as in the East wanna unite, not me If you ain't sayin' I'm the best, you ain't come to be right KnawImean? If you don't, then you not of being Your four-four, knock little pieces off of your spleen, n***a [Hook]