Method Man - Mr. MEF On Yo Lef lyrics
[Method Man - Mr. MEF On Yo Lef lyrics]
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Meth Tical, 118, am I right? Sandman 118
This goes to my man big Carlton Fisk
Fiskus, what the deal son?
Comin' through with the gun, gallion
Ahh it's a Stallion
Hang like gold medallions, check it out
Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it
Make that loot black man and stay focused
Whoever thought that nigga Tical could
Bring the dope shit
Clog up the arteries quick with overdosage
Lethal injected poem be in the zone
Find me a spot in the shade and call it home
Recline, let a nigga drink wine
And get a Jones
Mad Max, the minimalist shot by Terrordomе
In half with a logical staff, the aftermath
A bloodbath, verbal assault
I'm in that ass now
How could a rappеr get down
If he can't get up taught in the darkness
Yeah I light your shit up
Calgon, oh my god the Black Stallion
Comin' to your house in the projects
Represent
And I eject lyrics from my mouthpiece, check
The style, ooh yeah, across the Verrazzano
Shaolin what, the Isle, yeah
Park Hill Avenue, big up the crew
W to the U Tang, 36 Chambers Of Death
Check the Meth-Man, oh my god oh my god the
Hooked on the chronic
Fuck the phonics electronics
Got me goin' through it
Can't do it and just screw it
Baby, F-U it, stay true to it, uh
My life, that's my culture
I self Lord and Master
The disaster comin' faster, aftermather
The blaster, lyrics Shasta, hehehe, ha ha
Passed ya, so the stone, the bone
Meth Tical off on his own, like Patti LaBelle
I might rock bells like I was LL, ha!
But you can't see that or smell
Any type of lyric I tell like AT&T
Check me, the M-E T-H-O-D M-A-N
Oh my god the black skin, grafted
What the devil, the lowest level
Give him his own shovel, to dig his own grave
He's the mental slave and I'm my death
To this shit, never have to step
Meth Tical rip sharp as the meth
Southpaw on your left, not a breath
But I'ma come once again, I choose the gum
No the swine, the gum base
The dextrose on our mind
Ahh pork on the fork
Better check the rugged New York styles
From the Meth Tical, oh my god
You better check the large squad
Comin' from the uh, hard type of struggles
Niggas better bubble for they mentals
And get they hustle
If they got to, flex they muscle
Fuckin' round with Russell Simmons
At the Def Jam
Swimmin' with the fine women, hehe
You know my stee'
The beat's goin' please, now I'm out
Ha, you know the routine, Sandman, the 118
Huh
Meth Tical, 118, am I right? Sandman 118
This goes to my man big Carlton Fisk
Fiskus, what the deal son?
Comin' through with the gun, gallion
Ahh it's a Stallion
Hang like gold medallions, check it out
Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it
Make that loot black man and stay focused
Whoever thought that nigga Tical could
Bring the dope shit
Clog up the arteries quick with overdosage
Lethal injected poem be in the zone
Find me a spot in the shade and call it home
Recline, let a nigga drink wine
And get a Jones
Mad Max, the minimalist shot by Terrordomе
In half with a logical staff, the aftermath
A bloodbath, verbal assault
I'm in that ass now
How could a rappеr get down
If he can't get up taught in the darkness
Yeah I light your shit up
Calgon, oh my god the Black Stallion
Comin' to your house in the projects
Represent
And I eject lyrics from my mouthpiece, check
The style, ooh yeah, across the Verrazzano
Shaolin what, the Isle, yeah
Park Hill Avenue, big up the crew
W to the U Tang, 36 Chambers Of Death
Check the Meth-Man, oh my god oh my god the
Hooked on the chronic
Fuck the phonics electronics
Got me goin' through it
Can't do it and just screw it
Baby, F-U it, stay true to it, uh
My life, that's my culture
I self Lord and Master
The disaster comin' faster, aftermather
The blaster, lyrics Shasta, hehehe, ha ha
Passed ya, so the stone, the bone
Meth Tical off on his own, like Patti LaBelle
I might rock bells like I was LL, ha!
But you can't see that or smell
Any type of lyric I tell like AT&T
Check me, the M-E T-H-O-D M-A-N
Oh my god the black skin, grafted
What the devil, the lowest level
Give him his own shovel, to dig his own grave
He's the mental slave and I'm my death
To this shit, never have to step
Meth Tical rip sharp as the meth
Southpaw on your left, not a breath
But I'ma come once again, I choose the gum
No the swine, the gum base
The dextrose on our mind
Ahh pork on the fork
Better check the rugged New York styles
From the Meth Tical, oh my god
You better check the large squad
Comin' from the uh, hard type of struggles
Niggas better bubble for they mentals
And get they hustle
If they got to, flex they muscle
Fuckin' round with Russell Simmons
At the Def Jam
Swimmin' with the fine women, hehe
You know my stee'
The beat's goin' please, now I'm out
Ha, you know the routine, Sandman, the 118
Huh