Method Man - The Turn

 (versiyon 1)
Metin boyutu: ( + Büyült ) ( - Küçült)   
Everywhere I turn, I see, your face

Yeah, ah, yeah, yo, yo, yeah

Yeah, motivate, motivate, from the gate, ya'll

Yeah, aiyo, aiyo, aiyo



And we the Gods, still tear the whole hood apart

Darts that'll splatter through faces, taste niggaz hearts

I'm intellectual, plus professional

And Walbaums to vegetables



Shit is right here, like buyin' fly gear

Dare any white man or fan nigga, ran through niggaz

Blew shotties in niggaz lobbies, the grand RZA

We left, the radio broke, I yoke my vocals, hittin' green smoke



Allah Math', show me when the needle broke

Numb the whole crowd up, stupid ass Loud fouled up

Never knew what they had, now they proud of us

Picture my vision, precision, lines jumpin' out of commission



Divine got me, nigga, the boss, he pop me

Rae, we gotta generate, Lord, I feel the Ditech, the mildew

Buy jets and vehicles, steal a little

Wrap up the whole rap government



Go 'head, ya'll floss wit it, walk wit it, I slap your boss wit it

Navy blue, New York fitted, I'm cold frost bitted, two puffs and off wit it

You smell the herb, 'fore I lit the spots it's forfeit it

Blocks is hot, feel the shot from fourth fit it



With no regard for your boulevard, just the shit bag and bullet scar

It's the Riddler, riddle me this, riddle me that

Who the pretender? And who the door man that let them enter?

The Wu-Tang, 36 Cham', what you smokin'?



Got you in the game chokin', like Van Gundy coachin'

Your street team, bunch of weaklings

Don't ever let me catch your reachin'

Respect when a grown man is speakin'



Shh, keep on sleepin', and just like TLC, I keep on creepin'

The five percent of ya'll, keep on teachin'

The heat seakin', missile official, that got issues

Like Funk Doc got snot tissue, it's hot nikkels



Everywhere I turn, I see, your face, but you're never there

Shh, shit ain't over



Okay, now, same shit, different day, grindin', gettin' paid

Self at it, automatic, guns that spit and spray

Gotta have it, ass grab it, time to slip and weight

Godbody, House your Party, watch the kid 'n' play



Ya'll gon' make me go postal, up in this muthafucka house

Full of bloodsuckers and hoes that love hustlers

Roll that izza, pour me another kizza

Bigga, to my nigga, so drunk they can't get up



Shotguns through nose, hot ones through foes

Let the herb spots run till the cops come, suppose

I was just another stick in the mud, on a Saturday

Thinkin', how I'mma get the fifth in the club



See my crew thick, everyday I fights to prove it

We comes undisputed, with batteries included

Honey's bee like Meth, I be like what?

They want some free cd's, I'm like, "See these, nuts"



If ya'll muthafuckas gettin' high tonight, say all right, haha

If ya'll muthafuckas gettin' drunk tonight, say all right, haha

It be Tical, okay, haha, yeah, yeah, okay

It be Tical, okay, haha, yeah

© EMI MUSIC PUB. LTD.;















		
			



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