Listen to Rap Phenomenon (feat. Notorious B.I.G. and Redman) by Method Man

Rap Phenomenon (feat. Notorious B.I.G. and Redman)

Method Man

Hip-Hop/Rap

68,283

Apple Music Note

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Featured In

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Redman

Vocals

The Notorious B.I.G.

The Notorious B.I.G.

Vocals

Method Man

Vocals

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Christopher Martin

Christopher Martin

Songwriter

Christopher Wallace

Christopher Wallace

Songwriter

Clifford Smith

Songwriter

Isaiah Lee

Songwriter

Kenneth Gamble

Songwriter

Ronald Chambers

Ronald Chambers

Songwriter

Thomas Bell

Songwriter

Reggie Noble

Songwriter

Tracey Lee

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Eddie Sancho

Mixing Engineer

DJ Premier

Producer

Joe Perrera

Recording Engineer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]

Fuck that, I preach it, my nine reaches

The prestigious cats that speak this

Willie shit, flooded pieces

My hand releases, snatches

Smack ya cabbage, half-ass rappers shouldn't have it

So I grab it, never run, the outcome

Is usually a beatdown brutally

Fuck who you be or where you're from

West or East coast, squeeze toast

Leave most in the blood they laying in

What? What?

Them rings and things you sing about, bring 'em out

It's hard to yell when the barrel's in your mouth

It's more than I expected

I thought your jewels was rented

But they wasn't, so run it, cousin

I could chill, the heat doesn't

Ran up in your shell about a dozen

You never see bank like Frank White

Your hand clutching, your chest-plate contemplate

You 'bout to die, **** wait, keep yo' hand high

[Verse 2]

I don't brownnose out of town hoes

I'm up around fo' with the crowbar

To the five point oh

I get bagged, I'm John Doe, suspect

You ass like prime roastin, Calvin Klein clothes

Explode the pyros when Doc guest appear

I'm out there, I bought it with George Jetson here

Your time is near, so get your body dropped off

I stopped trustin' **** since Gotti got caught

It's Bricks keep your wrist covered or piss colored

By the waist got a gun as dark as Kris brother

I.C.U., my sheisty crew, like ice me too

I break your legs, leave your eyes slightly blue

The Doc is born with a grenade palm

I'm concurrent in your hood like a teenage mom

Yo Biggie (What, what), she havin' my baby

If I pull out the A.K., keep your hands high

[Verse 3]

This rule is so underrated

Actin' as if it can't happen, you're frontin'

Ain't no other kings in this rap thing

Biggie, a motherfuckin' rap phenomenon

This rule is so underrated

Actin' as if it can't happen, you're frontin'

Ain't no other kings in this rap thing

Biggie, a motherfuckin' rap phenomenon

[Verse 4]

I got a new mouth to feed, I'm due South with keys

Y'all pick seeds out y'all weed, I watch cowards bleed

Motherfucker please, it's my block with my rocks

Fuck that hip-hop, them one-two's, and you don't stops

Me and my **** Lance took Kim and Cee's advance

Bought ten bricks, four pounds of weed plants

From Branson, now we lampin' twelve room mansion

Bitches get naked off "Get Money", "Player's Anthem"

Don't forget , "One More Chance", my other hits, other shit

**** spit the counterfeit, robbery come naturally

In and out like fuckin' rapidly, pass the gat to me

Make his chest rest, where his back should be

Talking blasphemy

Blasting me, your family, rest in coffins often

Frank Wizzar, far from soft or fragilla

Play hard like Reggie Miller, rapper, slash dope, dealer

Slash gorilla, slash illest turned killer

[Verse 5]

Don't approach me with that rah-rah shit

You out of pocket

I take these adolescents back to Spofford

Mentally, my energy is like a figure eight

On it's side, that's infinity

Too many sicks ****, nickel nines bring the remedy

When you play the field, what's the penalty?

Unnecessary roughness, career ending injuries for suckers

Stuck on stupid, shoot 'em with a dart like cupid

Until they got love for my music

Star Wars, I'm Han Solo with three egos

And three charges, I got to C3PO's

This is Whoop-yo-ass Day, the sequel

Eyeball blower with no equal

**** swingin' swords in the war, that's my people

Sho' nuff, before I roll up, this is a hold up

Hand high, reach for the sky

I rep S.I., the un-pretty, word to Left Eye

New York City, put they weight on it

And who better for the job than Biggie?

The Notorious, Jesus, unbelievable rhyme that reaches

And touch individual, small frame buck and change

M.C. What's-Your-Name, tuck your chain

All about the fortune, fuck the fame, labels still extorting

Kick me when I'm down, but I'm up again, scorchin'

Hot, forcing my way up in the door

To kill the bullshit like a matador

Keep your hands high, what?

Written by: Christopher Martin, Christopher Wallace, Clifford Smith, Isaiah Lee, Isaiah Lee III, Kenneth Gamble, Reggie Noble, Ronald Chambers, Thomas Bell, Tracey Lee

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