Method Man - Crooked Letter I (feat. Streetlife) Lyrics
Intro: Streetlife (Method Man)]Ooooh! We have returnedYeah, show you how to flow again (show you how to flow again)It's the rap rule again (hehehehe) Yo, yo..[Streetlife (Method Man)]Street, Meth, we ride like A.C. and O.J. (y'all niggaz crazy!)I runs up on you in broad days, I'm a Loose LinkI carry's the Heaterz, alwaysSmall timers, get left for dead in the hallwaysIt's that ill breed, move in warp speed, follow my lead(Me and my Co-D's, about to O.D.) let me procedeI'm that O.G., you're not in my league (you know my steez)I put the smackdown, on you killer clown M.C.'s[Method Man (Streetlife)]I rock for all my niggaz (I rock for all my niggaz)That's why I hurt to be here, okay, let me see hereStat' Land, crooked letter is I, we back, manHarder than a dick on viagra gettin' a lap danceHittin' like a back hand (I slap y'all kids)As if we in a game of spades, and y'all renig'John Blaze, not the clothing, cuz some of that is slum(Son, I'm already knowin') cut they jeans mad young[Chorus 2X: Kon Artis]In the Crooked Letter I, it's do or dieShit, every man fights to stay aliveIn the Crooked Letter I, you should not tryMeth Tical, Streetlife, Killa Bee, why..[Method Man (Streetlife)]Stingy with my dough, even stingier with dojia'(Told y'all) You'll never go broke, long as I yo'yaMaintain your composure, or party overFor stank *****es, who get it, twisted like yogaHolla for a dollar, yea, and y'all ain't gotta go home(But y'all gotta get the ***** outta here)Who stay "Lo" like Jennifer, won't see me a lotBut when you see Vivica, tell her she a "Fox"[Streetlife (Method Man)]We rollin', big truck, sittin' on chrome (twistin' a bone)Talkin' to a bird on the bat phoneZonin', out the area, roamin'The closest you could come to my style, maybe, is clonin'The omen (I'm warnin' you now!) Niggaz is holdin'Run up, watch me put one up in your colonChizzle town, thugs in the club, like chicks posin'Lambchop niggaz is sheep in wolf clothing[Chorus 2X][Streetlife (Method Man)]Beware, danger, shoot off your flaresWarn all your dogs (tell 'em we here)The Stat' (we don't bust our guns in the air)Never that, y'all don't come out til the coast is clear(Who you suppose to fear) Street, I fears no oneYou all thumbs, I probably murder you with your gunWhen I start lettin' off (niggaz is jettin' off)You straight chicken broth, we holes in your terrycloth[Method Man]Double O, 3, long time no seeWho mind parts seas, and cause blind to seeSome think this industry is just all rhyme and GThen he make it to the door, and he can't find the keyDon't know what it be, to make y'all follow my leadOr make this pretty thing on her knees swallow my seedIf rap wasn't rap no more, what would it beI don't know, I'd be zonin' sometime, must be the weed...That's that shit[Chorus to fade][Outro: Streetlife (Method Man)]Yeah, Homicide Housing, Loose LinxCarlton Fisk, D.C., rest in peaceTo the Million Dollar Kid, Y(S.I., N.Y., 10304) Sick eyes, Size 7Big Nut, what up (Big up to Denaun, good lookin' on the track, niggaMatter fact, I'mma call Staten Island the tri-borough, now onCuz we'll "tri" any *****in' thing) Homicide Housing..(***** y'all)
