Method Man, Redman, Damian Marley - Lyrical .44 lyrics

Selecta come!!
Play this song on your fuckin' radio okay!
Play this song on your fuckin' radio
Step to my bidness

Oh, no! Another flow! Lyrica forty-fo'
If it gets deep
Jump in feet first and hold yo' nose
I'm a beast when you step on my toes
You hear my whistle checkin 'em hoes
You see my pistol lettin' it go
I couldn't wait to do a song
Right? Hardly 'gon do ya wrong
Time to party Meth
Stephen Marley and Jr gong
So selecta! Come with it!
Awww, shitted! Now y'all done did it!
Supper ready, y'all come get it!
Now, who 'gon stop me? Block me? Pop lock me
Knock me?
Jamaica posse, Most High Haile Selassie
Allah willin', another sound boy killin'
I'm hot, bitch! I don't catch cold
Or catch feelings
The truth be the ghetto youth
And Def Jam y'all know the Meth
Man take care of his fam
That's what ya better do!
Examine our skin, we plannin' to win
Worldwide, tell the people we
Be jammin' again

Doctor! Make way for Reggie Hammond
Got more hoes than Grand Canyon, ah!
Dig 'em out, then tie 'em up for ransom, ah!
Shoot at your feet, make you start dancin'
Ah! Pissin' on your picnics where ya campin'
Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy
When the zig zag roll, I'll rip your zip code
Got bitches fucked up off the hypno
I tip-toe, then wait 'til they bend over
(There I go) A yo, money!
I got a moped in Jamaica, sittin' on twenties
(Chk-chk-blaow!) Look out! Guns in the air!
(Chk-chk-blaow!) Selecta! Guns in the air!
No Belvedere
It's Tiger Bone to get it crackin'
A yo, dread, right or wrong? I'm a sinner
Winner of the underground swimmers
Eat dinner in front of Bob Marley pin up!

I don't care about your bling bling bling
Over here, we let them things ring
BLAOW! Give it to me bLAOW! Give it to me
BLAOW! Shoot it up bLAOW! Give it up
I don't care about your bling bling bling
Over here, we let them things ring
BLAOW! Give it to me bLAOW! One time
BLAOW! Give it to me bLAOW!

I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya
And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature
Blunt dem so big a must fi
Bun it Bob and Peter
Teach it like a teacher
Preach it like a preacher put you in a fever
Pussy couldn't style mi up
Plus no underachiever
Gimme di rizla, gimme de blem
And gimme de sensimilla gimme de choons
Gimme de cup and a couple señorita
Jr gong di veteran
A trouble when mi reach ya
DJ fi fi fan dem inna
Grandtsand and di bleacha
Jumpin' off on di meter, you best believe yah
Babylon a smell skunk and
Couldn't get mi neitha
Well, ever since a likkle ghetto yute
Dem get mi crippled
So mi know seh Babylon dem a go get a weopen
Everytime when we hear
Some politician trippin
When a di big ting promote I'm
Right there wid di clip in
So just smile now yuh flip
Yuh likkle flippin lippin
Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin
Then mi buck up yuh face so
Far yuh don't know what's happenin
Dem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's
Like yuh fat and go gym
Get mi girl inna mi cabin
And mi cabin stabbin
It is slappin jappin dappin it is non stoppin
Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen
If a gal try dat, she's a dead pigeon
Well, woman a tear off mi pants stitchen
Natty dreadlocks inna di benz
And have recline switchin'
If a bwoy nuh like dat
Him may end up missin'
Rastafari dun tell yuh don't listen

Play this song on your fuckin radio
Play this song on your fuckin radio