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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Method Man
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Method Man
Composer
Jason Scott "Rebel-INS." Hunter
Composer
David Porter
Composer
Bobby Joe Bratcher
Composer
Isaac Hayes
Composer
M. Singleton
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jason Scott "Rebel-INS." Hunter
Producer
Nolan " Dr. No" Moffitte
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
One more game, yo
Uh-huh, uh-huh
Star
[Verse 2]
Surround sounder, blunt smokin', remy downer
Hip-hop sizzar slingin' my raw in your flounder
You get skid awed, undertakin' under grounders
This lyricist lounge with low that be lounger
Aliens is out of townish, fuck applause
**** clap now with forty pounders and .44's
It is all fair in love and war
Youngins with guns, acting like they taking yours, uh
[Verse 3]
Live by the sword they gonna die by the sword, uh
My vocal chords breaks the laws that apply to nature
Low and these **** love to hate ya
Request the Henny straight, no chaser
Twin towerin I skyscrape ya
Now give me yours
[Verse 4]
Trifled disciple, arch rival reppin with weapons that homicidal
Star leaves you marked from the start like tribal scars
I'm hazardous as a bomb and arms spinnin' like Christ
Recitin' psalms in the streets of Babylon
Verbs I gather well
Spittin' data shells
My squad camouflage your wealth
Like the bible with parables
[Verse 5]
With the navigator
Spittin' razor sharp
Breath laser data that'll tickle you now
But sway you later
[Verse 6]
On this one, call me Lee Major
Million dollar man, bionic or professor chronic
Still not a player
I just fuck a lot, the panty raider
Get shorty's mad
They curse you wild on your sky pager
Stankin' ass
[Verse 7]
Yo, Mr. Big Mouth
Better duck down or bite the bullet
You **** got guns
But you scared to death to pull it
Bet if I pull my gun, I'm gonna squeeze
I'm startin' at your head, son
And stoppin' at your knees
I hate your screw mugs
Rumble counterfeit thugs
[Verse 8]
**** want mine
Bet they come and get it in blood
Fat potential
Gave birth to a corrupt mental
Foul thoughts paralyzin' temples
It's just that simple
[Verse 9]
You better come with your best gun
**** be holdin'
It's all war, no fun
**** be bowlin'
You **** under pressure now
My squads down for whatever with whoever now
Let's get it on
[Verse 10]
Best to come with your best gun
**** be rollin'
It's all war, no fun
**** be holdin'
You **** under pressure now
My squads down for whatever with whoever now
Let's get it on
[Verse 11]
Arm leg shots to hit the spot
Like a four fifth glock
We got this hip-hop shellac
And all you clique got was lip lock
Heavy heat, steady street, sweeping your peeps
Hawks, machete chops, puttin' the cease to your petty fleet
This raw rebel got more metal than pop
And rock groups when my glock shoots the scores settled
[Verse 12]
A ground attack
I'm bound to clap rounds of rap
Clowns are found flat
Face down around the map
Simple minds, cripple smiles
My rhymes are four five
The size, oh-two-nines combined
Can't even tickle me
[Verse 13]
I told you once I told yo ass a thousand times, chump
Body in the trunk, stay in the line, punk
[Verse 14]
Yeah, you be the actual
Sixteen bars comin' after you
Never go against my team
They might embarrass you
Slit-slang, terrorist talk, fully armed
Put your hands up
I'ma put a hole in your paws
Ruin your side show, eyes low
Brains fried from hydro
[Verse 15]
Two choices
Bass off or either die slow
We all scholars
When it's time to come clean a dirty dollar
Attack the boards
Just like a Rottweiler
[Verse 16]
**** comin' out they shoes like they Usher
These motherfuckers on the run and they socks from
The bounty hunter Iron Lungster, the rain and thunder
Here come the lightening and now I'm striking back at **** biting
Pushin' buttons just to step away from self destruction
Inch and a half away from touchin' somethin'
Second away from bustin'
[Verse 17]
Y'all probably laugh now and cry later
I rap from Alpha to Omega
Sixty four to Sega
Whoppin' that ass
Walk your dogs through the lookin' glass
Been burnin emcee's since cookin' class
Makin' it hot like the summer in the crack spot
With black tops, my nickel slot
Triple bar hit the jackpot
On each block, I'm the remedy
Send them back to me after detox
Shorty got knuckles in the Reebok
Plus she got a problem with the Benz
(What's her problem with the Benz)
She want the six hundred
But she ain't got the ends
[Verse 18]
You better come with your best gun
**** be holdin'
It's all war, no fun
**** be rollin'
You **** under pressure now
My squads down for whatever with whoever now
Let's get it on
Written by: Bobby Joe Bratcher, David Porter, Isaac Hayes, Jason Scott "Rebel-INS." Hunter, M. Singleton, Method Man