Method Man, Redman - Blackout lyrics

Yo, yo, yo, yo all my people!
Yo, yo, yo, yo yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo yo, yo, yo, yo!

It's Funk Doc, where the weed at, bitch?
I speed backwards down a one-way from cops
See that shit? Believe that shit
Slaughter straight to camcorder
I'm "Too Hot for TV", rap draw water
My windpipe's attached to project boilers
You yell: "Turn the heat down!"
My voice DVD 'round sound so
I'm heard round town
The chances are y'all leaving 'round now
Wait later, we'll make front page paper
Date raper with juvenile eighth graders
Hit the high school and 187 Caesar
When I bust y'all need to back four acres
Doc y'all and that's my man, Jabberjaw
The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?
I'm from the underground, my sound lift


Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds

Get up, stand up, back up, push up (Come on)
Jump up, act up to make y'all feel it
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em
Yo, blackout, shootout, smoked out, move out
(Come on) even knock your tooth out to
Make y'all feel it
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em

And I'm the street talking, dog walking
Approach me with extreme caution
Oh now you forcing my hand
To rock your cradle often
I'm hot scorching but stone
Cold like Steve Austin
If you smell what Tical cookin'
Ain't tryna see central bookin'
So tell ya goon stop lookin'
Know what you did last summer
So I started hookin' you past shooken off an
Open can of ass-whoopin'
Ain't no tomorrows in the Method's
Little shop of horrors
Go ask your father who the father
From the hill to harbor you know the saga
Marijuana blunts and Goldschlager
With deadly medley
Y'all ain't ready for Shakwon and Reggie
Don't even bother, to radio for back-up
(Back-up) , alright then
Your man got slapped up
Extorted for his ice an'
Street life is triflin', "Body over here!"
Don't make me pull a Tyson
And bite a nigga ear
Precise and slicing jugulars, the cutthroat
Ruggeder, predator, viking, etc
People's Champ
Niggas be taking on competitors
Reaching for the microphone
Relax and light a bone
Straight from the catacomb
The "Children of the Corn"
That don't got a clue
Prepare for Desert Storm

Get up, stand up, back up, push up (Come on)
Jump up, act up to make y'all feel it
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em
Yo, blackout, shootout, smoked out, move out
(Come on) even knock your tooth out to
Make y'all feel it
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em

I scored 11 on my SAT
And still push a whip with
A right and left AC
Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called
I'm behind the brick wall with arsenic jaws
Spit poison, got a gun permit draw
Gun down at sundown, you keep score
This training course and y'all ain't fit
On my crew tombstone put
"We all ain't shit!"
Yo, all you gonnabe, wannabe
When will you learn?
Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait your turn
I spit a 41 revolver on New Year's Eve
With the mic in my hand, I mutilate MCs
The most slept on since Rip Van Wink'
My shit stink with every element from A to
Zinc so what you think
I'ma blackout on just one drink?
You must be crazy
A little off the wall maybe, go get a shrink

Get up, stand up, back up, push up (Come on)
Jump up, act up to make y'all feel it
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em
Yo, blackout, shootout, smoked out, move out
(Come on) even knock your tooth out to
Make y'all feel it
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em
Br-r-r-r-r stick 'em, ha ha ha stick 'em