method man + ghostface freestyle - stretch and bobbito lyrics
[method man]
listen, what 6*foot*4 coming at your jaw
it’s me kid, coming from the 1*6*2
i got crew kid, straight from the smoked out lungs of the mad one
blow a crab to kingdom come ’cause it’s real son
represent what town you’re from
and i k!ll rhymes quicker than a clock you’ll time
word life god, f*ck making fancy moves
i need props forget about a hill street blue
this is my plot, n*gga wanna test my stee
i make sh*t hot, burn to a third degree
and it don’t stop, keep on to the break of dawn
and i rip cords in half with the wu*tang style
what up? ha! you’re blind ’cause you don’t know math
you’se a b*tch*ass n*gga from a light*weight class
caution, you’re p*ssing me off and its forcin’ me to have thoughts of extortion
[ghostface k!llah]
yo, i’ma be here forever, max like the weather
thoughts designed and classified like genuine leather
as i get down to the brownsville
you remain still as i shoot the gif at will
with rough raps banging off of marvelous tracks
paragraphs slamming like a late night snack
the rap thoroughbreds
you could get with this rhyme specialist
yes i be possessed leaving threats like a terrorist
blood spiller, ex*convict, verbal assaulter
disguising as a psychiatrist whose name’s walter
now i like smuggling mics of all types
spotlights at the airport and catch a flight to another chamber
then i will strike like a stranger
bad guys shorten they lives and lose fingers
[method man]
hey! hey! i swing funky rap routines and tap the jaws
spot you 20 points that you still can’t score
nothing, because you ain’t got no points in this game
b*tch you frontin’, i’m home run hittin’, you be buntin’
fresh out the toilet and i got my sh*t together
when i’m good, i’m good, when bad, i’m better
you want it? whatever, i be the stormy weather
rain coming down so weatherproof your leather *
jacket, a n*gga with an axe couldn’t hack it
i spark him like a match of a mac
it’s the method, say it loud and the method man, clap your hands
now check it, see me in the mix rolling fat blunts and spliffs
saw my physical, brother came through and got me lit
n*ggas that i walk by and give me the eye
the moment is f*ckin’ me up, k!llin’ me high
n*gga get back, you’re p*ssy cat, fearsome
basically that, i’m all that and them some
while i was out on tour going berserk
i heard you was at the sandbox and kicking dirt
all of my name but you can’t pull my files
you don’t know me and you don’t know my style
remember that hair like that, there yeah!
even grizzly adams couldn’t bare
[ghostface k!llah]
yo, i’ma set it with one shot, forget me not
ghostface blows the spot, popping n*ggas like ronnie lott
but of course, wu*tang clan made the source in no time
n*ggas got flipped and tossed off the single
hittin’ like a bell and i jingle
a fat rap dose of the ghost is what i bring you
at last the wu*tang clan got me gassed
labeled as a outcast, the beat got smashed
back up, thoughts is mad buck with real ass
like shorty hooded up in a church with two macs
thoughts react so fast, i’m so sick
so quick to jig a n*gga up with an ice pick
i’m stranded, facing your peeps, i be the one
picture ghostface in the sun, be on the run
reject that, brothers wouldn’t never expect that
running up on the god ghost, what’s the catch?
my technique, the words i speak shoot your freak
i get deep like k!lling george bush in his sleep
untold, no one seen sh*t, no one heard jack
i’m overseas counting g’s relaxed and laid back
[method man]
are you ready, to face the consequences and suffer?
i even take ya momma, you ain’t sh*t, motherf*cker
bring it, and let that k!ller bee kid sting it
and represent, it’s like heads up a brick, when i swing it
get lost, i break you off something
i’m pumping, like a reebok, with a pump
from the jump and you was nothing
bet you thought your freaking clan had ya back but they was fronting
smoking dirt blunts and f*cking nasty sl*ts and
you just a naked gun without the bullet, what you busting?
get your ship sunken, messing with this drunken
master disaster at any rap functions
listen! who said the wu*tang clan? was it you or your man?
you wanna point the finger, i’ll bring ya
36 chambers, be out, you’se in danger
let me pull your brain out your ass with a hanger
didn’t momma tell ya not to talk to a stranger?
now ya got ya neck in the noose of the strangler
just recline, keep the meth in mind
i’ll even test a knuckle check on the hands of time
[ghostface k!llah]
nonchalantly, i roll up on the rap scene bluntly
and lamp like i’m knocking off keys collecting monthly
my nickel plated pattern of stacks rips the [?]
i build like i’m a stacking a log to make a cabin
runnin’ wild in midtown, hit the ground quick
mad bodies being lost and found
no one can stop me cause that’s a sin, you know era
one thing, i bring the mc’s, it be terror
kick dirt on jerks and sh*t, i be the expert
catch a hole in your shirt, john i do work
ghostface maxing in the hall of fame place
suicidal blends that kick like no place
surviving, crazy live when i flips a track
i hit a reverend in the head with a bat
and threw his head in a showcase, in a glass box with no case
who did it? ghostface!
[method man]
ha! it be the method man coming again
godd*mn at your command
listen, when you’re gone, it’s right not now, but right f*ckin’ now
recognize who the man, meth tical
coming from the slums of the shaolin isle, i be smoking
like a 24*hour store, i stays open
daylight, and i’m about to catch this flight to the far side
some stay my style is trite as apartheid
knocking on the next man’s door
with the .44 automatic c*cked for sure
you get yours, first you gotta get mine, son
read your horoscope saying that it can’t be done
hey, i get down with the angel of death
i be’s a pirate lampin’ on the dead man’s chest
what? what? huh
n*ggas wanna get stressed
i stick that ass for your meth, ghostface…
[ghostface k!llah]
yeah, check it, fresh joint from out the stash
yo, yo, first of all son, peep the arson
many brothers i be sparking and busting mad light inside the dark
and call me dough sn*tcher, just the brother for the rapture
i hang glide, holding on strong, hard to capture
extravagant, rza bake the track and it’s militant
then i react, like a convict, and start k!lling sh*t
it’s manifested, the gods work like appliances
dealing in my cypher, i revolve around sciences
9th chamber, you get trapped inside my hallway
you try to flee but you got smoked by the doorway
no question, i send your ass back, right to the essence
your whole frame is smothered in dirt, now how you resting?
while i’ll be trapped by sounds, locked behind loops
throwing n*ggas off airplanes ’cause cash rules
everything around me, black, as you can see
swallow this number one verse like god’s degree
then *n*lyze my soundtrack for satisfaction
and you adapt like a flashback chain reaction
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