Method Man - New York lyrics

Ayo, Meth spanking that ass nigga
Take all back to the real
New York streets shit okay
Yeah, yeah, Evil Meth
Back for another one bitch let's do it, Ha
Staten Island stand up (okay)
Long Island stand up (okay) jersey
Yeah, Brick City nigga funk Doc

Yo, I'll start this rhyme with how
Y'all feel in this bitch
I'm finna to spit, got steel in my grip
But I ain't talkin bout
Guns, I'm talkin mics
Niggas stealin my shit
Then try to act like they
Ain't feelin my shit
Now if we talkin bout ones
I'm Russell Simmons I be talkin in tongues
Fuck where you from and all
The niggas you brung


Punk, My clan don't sleep son
I put that on each one
Be cool until the heat come
These pussies might eat some
Nigga this is not pop music
Unless your tryna pop shots to it
Why would you have that Glock and not use it
How could you hear this joint and not lose it
You stupid, you need to shot from cupid to
Get love for this music
Diamond in the ruff, like iodine
Find me in the cut
If not, probably find me in a slut
If I buy me a Dutch that means
Mef Man's back with the stuff
Lot of back talkin backin it up

Now I like bein the man
I like weed in my hands
I like my G's in advance
But y'all don't understand me no like
Fake niggas that ain't got the game right
Me no like
When y'all killas pop shit and can't fight

Back in the zone, no backbone
He stepped on and spat on
Niggas don't last long
If I don't get some act-right soon
I'm gonna act wrong
I ain't tryin to get clapped on
For makin these rap songs
If you're misunderstood pimp
What would the hood think?
To know that I've been swindled, bamboozled
And hoodwinked these rappers ain't like me
They see that there might be
More to me then some Air Force
Ones and a white tee, i'm nice B
6 foot 4, un-cut raw, pocket full of straws
I'm that nigga to look for
Want paper like a book store
Ain't never been shook poor
I switch from Method Man to Candy
Man and the hooked off
Still ain't nothin sweet though
Who wanna spit flows
First learn to put the weed inside
The bag and then get dough
(Then get dough motherfucker)
Tell your peoples and kin folk, I been dope
Anything else is an insult (God damn right)

Now I like bein the man
I like weed in my hands
I like my G's in advance
But y'all don't understand me no like
Fake niggas that ain't got the game right
Me no like
When y'all killas pop shit and can't fight

So obnoxious that I'm toxic
Call that diarrhea
Spit that hot shit, cause I'm hot bitch
And got butter-fingers
Oops I drops it, load and locks it
Take the recipe that’s been concocted
Got women just like a vehicle, topless
First You see what I'm worth
Pullin paper straight out the wood work
Until I push dirt
Shit I hate to fuck up a good shirt
But damnit I'm back, I done relapsed
Shot a dose of some murder I wrote
Then lean back
I'm part Ghost, Part Cappa, RZA, and Deck
Part Dirty, Uey, GZA, Masta Killa, and Chef
But I'm all Mef, all vet, Killers I'm complex
Niggas, have yet to blow up
Nothin but bomb threats
New York yall, shoot or shank me
I bleed Yankee i'm hot dog
Y'all ain't nathan to put it frankly
I find excuses to finally lose it
Then write exclusive
And he like VH1, you know behind the music

Now I like bein the man
I like weed in my hands
I like my G's in advance
But y'all don't understand me no like
Fake niggas that ain't got the game right
Me no like
When y'all killas pop shit and can't fight