Papoose, Method Man - Heat 7 lyrics

Yo, Pap, this hard bruh
Like, like slap your mom on
Her birthday hard bruh all truth
Yeah

This is all bidness
No card limit, black car tinted
I put y'all in this
Search and it hurts them cars rented
When the God spit it, like SARS with it
You’ll all get it
Call these bars sick as last caught with it
Your bars tendered
Soft, winded, just take off end it
I'm offended
59 fifty, I'm authentic, ’cause y'all fitted
Bars, twice as hard as them
Park benches my palm itching
Y'all picking sides, this is suicide
We squad different
I'm Scott Pippen, nice around mics
My palm grippin' 'Nother palm is liftin' my
Charles Dickens now pause, listеn
You think the ball slippin'
No vacation, you think the ball trippin’
Conversation, look at thе boy drippin’
No competition
I put the comp into composition
Get a thot's attention
She give me props then the proposition
Not my position beside the fact
That it’s not opinion
Once I know the mission
I'm black op'n the opposition

Am I the greatest? Yes
Downtown Brooklyn shoppin' the INS
The 574 New Balance matchin’ the Avirex

Your shit Nikes
I put my foot so far up your A-S-S
Hate when New York go against New York

It's like when the Yankees play the Mets
Spit fire like Ghostface, U-God, Rae or Meth
My pen deadly as Jigsaw
Playin' the game of death
The criminal minded album cover
Strap like KRS
The basketball tournament trophy winner
I pay the reps i bear perfection, both
Hands are treacherous, i'm ambidextrous
You can't outgrind or outshine me
With a fancy necklace
My aura can't be mess with, I'm
Cocking fullies dropping bullies
Rockin' hoodies
Poppin' woolies right on the benchy reckless
Got trust funds for my loved ones
My family precious
My crown's barking more than Charles Bronson
This can't be death wish