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f/ Shawnna, Streetlife
[Intro: Method Man] Uh... what's really good? Yo, yo, yo.. |
printable copy of the lyrics to Who Ya Rollin Wit |
| [Method Man]
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It's the unstoppable, over come any obstacle
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Is this song NOT from TICAL 0: THE PREQUEL (2004) ? Would you report that? |
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Ya'll know my flavor, pack more punch than Tropical
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Any mission possible, do what I gots to do
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Labels gettin' butterfingers, and next they droppin' you
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You think you know, but you have no idea
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The Diary of a Meth Man, what's this I hear?
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Somebody told ya'll, steppin' in shit was good luck?
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I got the hood stuck, chh-chh, now give the goods up
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Ya'll done pushed up, past the point of no return
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It's Meth's turn, so roll that shit up and let's burn
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I heard Philly got the best 'scherm, out in Cali, they got the best perms
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Now that we know, when will the rest learn?
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Come on, each one, teach one, hear no evil, and I don't speak none
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Lyrics are provided for educational purposes only |
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Everything cool until that heat come
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Just call my name, and I'll be there
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Ya'll kids is slum, like the jewelry in Albi Square
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[Chorus: Streetlife (Shawnna)]
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We drinkin' Henny til we flip, poppin' bottles til we sick
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All ya'll haters eat a dick (yeah, uh)
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Let's throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks
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Tell me who ya'll rollin' with (yeah)
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[Hook 2X: Streetlife (Method Man)]
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Method spits fire (Fire!) The roof's on (Fire!) My crew's on (Fire!)
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[Streetlife]
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M-E-T, H-O-D..
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[Method Man]
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Man, I'm in the house like foreclosures
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Talk sober, until some dog gets forced over
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New York soldiers, be at ease, fall back
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Never ever, I'm the New Era, like ball caps
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Kid, whenever, whoever, whatever, ya'll want it
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Ya'll can have it, the problem and answer, I'm all that
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While we at it, let's tighten up our grips around that cabbage
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Silly rabbit, how many kid's done tricked you on your carrots
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The product of a bad package, like Bishop Don Juan it's Magic
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How I break 'em like a bad habit, hit tracks like it's target practice
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Then let these darts take a stab at it
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Niggaz ain't got it, ain't never had it
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I jam like L.A. traffic, Jellyroll behind the wheel
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And the passenger seat behind the field
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It's your boy, physically fit, mentally sick
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Get dirty money, told you honey, I'm filthy rich
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[Chorus]
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[Hook 2X w/o "fire" the second time]
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[Interlude: Method Man]
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Yeah, ya'll niggaz don't know it's a game
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Until it starts again, let's do it, haha!
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[Method Man]
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Six minutes, Method Man, you're on
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If you thinkin' you gon' slip and be alright, you're wrong
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You can see me lightin' the bong, while writin' the songs
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That the crowd, is either singin' to or fightin' along, fightin' along
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I'm try'nna tell you drugs is not your friends
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And girlfriend, don't try and front like you got your friend
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I'm at the hotel, motel, Holiday Inn
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And my chick's a man-eater, she be swallowin' men
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Aight, live from New York, it's Saturday night
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I got pipes that drain your confidence, and battery light
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Aight, mami tight, but she ain't really my type
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If ya'll don't see me treat her right, then she ain't really my wife
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When I was young, I was stayin' in school, obeyin' rules
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Play with my food, what makes you think I'm playin' with you?
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This is it, ya'll better come on in, the water's fine
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Jump on in, let's do it to 'em one more 'gain
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[Chorus]
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[Hook 2X]
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[Chorus]
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[Outro: Method Man]
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Yeah, Ladies Love Big John Studd
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No doubt, dick up in your mouth
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We do this shit everyday, I'm in the cut
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With my main shit stain, Ray-Ray Gutter Butt
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And we holdin' it down for the whole Staten Island, man
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Nothin' else but Staten Island, man
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Ya'll stand up, man, Stapleton, the Wild West, Park Hill
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Port Richmond, Now Born, Jungle Nilz, hah... Peace! |
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