4 Gatsu

[Verse 1: Method Man] Listen, what 6 foot 4 coming at your jaw It's me kid, coming from the 1-6-oooh I got crew kid, straight from the smoked out lungs of the mad one Blow a crab to kingdom come 'cause it's real son Represent what town you're from And I kill rhymes quicker than a clock you'll time Word life god, fuck making fancy moves I need props forget about a Hill Street Blue This is my plot, nigga wanna test my stee I make shit hot, burn to a third degree And it don't stop, keep on to the break of dawn And I rip cords in half with the Wu-Tang style What up? Ha! You're blind 'cause you don't know math You'se a bitch as nigga from a light-weight class Caution, you're pissing me off and its forcin' me to have thoughts of extortion [Verse 2: Ghostface Killah] Yo, i'ma be here forever, max like the weather Thoughts designed and classified like genuine leather As I get down to the Brownsville You remain still as I shoot the gif at will with rough raps Banging off of marvellous tracks Paragraphs slamming like a late night snack The rap thoroughbreds You could get with this rhyme specialist Yes I be possessed leaving threats like a terrorist Blood spiller, ex-convict, verbal assaulter Disguising as a psychiatrist who lays water This child was born to be [?] Purse snatching, robbing old men, I was foul Now I like smuggling mics of all types Spotlights at the airport and catch a flight to another chamber Then I will strike like a stranger Bad guys shorten they lives and lose fingers Meth Tical, word up (Tical, Tical, Tical) [Verse 3: Method Man] Check me out now, check me, check me out now Here we, here we go Wu-Tang bang here I come Yo-ho-ho and a bottle full of rum Nah, not that one, come again son Straight out the dome with the hellified poem I be the Meth Tical coming with the fresh freestyle It's off the head and never been written before I said that i'm the baddest brother in the land I be the man M-E-T-H-O-D Yes I am, Yes I am, here I am, never eat the ham I like what, hit the girl from behind with my ill type rhyme Got the style make you wanna like man combine Connect four, coming through the [?] door You know the style, the man he be the Meth Tical (say what?) Come on, Come on, Come on, Ghostface, hit me with a taste [Verse 4: Ghostface Killah] Yo, i'ma set it with one shot, forget me not Ghostface blows the spot, popping niggas like Ronnie Lott But of course, Wu-Tang Clan made The Source in no time Niggas got flipped and tossed off the single Hittin' like a bell and I jingle A fat rap dose of the Ghost is what I bring you At last the Wu-Tang Clan got me gassed Labelled as a outcast the beat got smashed Back up, thoughts is mad buck with real ass Like shorty hooded up in a church with two MACs Thoughts react so fast, I'm so sick So quick to jig a nigga up with an ice pick I'm stranded facing your peeps, I be the one Picture Ghostface in the sun, be on the run Reject that, brothers wouldn't never expect that Running up on the God Ghost, what's the catch? My technique, the words I speak shoot your freak I get deep like killing George Bush in his sleep Untold, no one seen shit, no one heard jack I'm overseas counting G's relaxed and laid back [Verse 5: Method Man] Are you ready, to face the consequences and suffer? I even take ya momma you ain't shit, motherfucker Bring it, and let that killer bee kid sting it And represent, it's like heads up a brick, when I swing it Get lost, I break you off something I'm pumping, like a Reebok, with a pump From the jump and you was nothing Bet you thought you fucking clan had ya back but they was fronting Smoking dirt blunts and fucking nasty sluts and You just a naked gun without the bullet, what you busting? Get your ship sunken, messing this drunken Master disaster at any rap functions Listen? Who said the Wu-Tang Clan? Was it you or your man? You wanna point the finger, I'll bring ya 36 chambers, be out, you'se in danger Let me pull your brain out your ass with a hanger Didn't momma tell ya not to talk to a stranger? Now ya got ya neck in the noose, of the strangler Just recline, keep the Meth in mind I'll even test a knuckle check on the hands of time [Verse 6: Ghostface KIllah] Nonchalantly, I roll up on the rap scene bluntly And lamp like I'm knocking off keys collecting monthly My nickel plated pattern of stacks rips the [?] I build like i'm a stacking a log to make a cabin Runnin' wild in Midtown, hit the ground quick Mad bodies being lost and found No one can stop me cause that's a sin, you know era One thing, I bring the MC's, it be terror Kick dirt on jerks and shit, I be the expert Catch a hole in your shirt, John I do work Ghostface maxing in the hall of fame place Suicidal blends that kick like north lace Surviving, crazy live when I flips a track I hit a reverend in the head with a bat And thew his head in a showcase, in a glass box with no case Who did it? Ghostface! [Verse 7: Method Man] Now the new style like Buckshot and my man King Just I'ma come with the harmonized style Here we go, here we go, here we go, here we go Check it out, check it out! I got 36 styles on my mind, on my mind Keep it real, Shaolin represent one time All my people are you with me, where you at? All my killer bees on attack, where you at? Throw your fuckin' hands in the air if you want 'em there If got got your gats peel a cap for the new year Bodies in motion, what's the commotion? Wu-Tang Clan be attacking your emotion Flowin' like the ocean blue, I be coming for your crew Flying guillotines style with the name Meth Tical Is it going, is it going, is it gone? If I ain't on your record then the shit ain't really on One man band from the Wu-Tang Clan Ask who the man, god damn it be Method Here I, here I am and the plan Hey! (Hey!) What? What? I gotta get it going on, yeah, down the stair Hey! Hey! I swing funky raps routines and tap the jaws Spot you 20 points that you still can't score Nothing, because you ain't got no points in this game Bitch you frontin', I'm home run hittin' you be buntin' Fresh out the toilet and I got my shit together When I'm good, i'm good, when bad, I'm better You want it? Whatever, I be the stormy weather Rain coming down so weatherproof your leather - Jacket, a nigga with an axe couldn't hack it I spark him like a match of a MAC It's the Method, say it loud and the Method Man, clap your hands Now check it, see me in the mix rolling fat blunts and spliffs Saw my physical, brother came through and got me lit Niggas that I walk by and give me the eye The moment is fuckin' me up, killin' me high Nigga get back, you're pussy cat, fearsome Basically that, I'm all that and them some While I was out on tour going berserk I heard you was at the sandbox and kicking dirt All of my name but you can't pull my files You don't know me and you don't know my style Remember that hair like that, there yeah! Even Grizzly Adams couldn't bare [Verse 8: Ghostface Killah] Yo, I know a kid by the name of Jiganti Jiganti's a Teflon Don with a diamante Forest green with the seats looking crazy mean On some more rough type shit to make C.R.E.A.M A little this, a little that, a little bit of everything Had a little beef with Fat Cat But it was over, my man's Range Rover got iked And his piece got raped like the same night Though it took place standing on the block selling base And covering grounds, so how that sound? Within the midst of making C.R.E.A.M Jiganti, born in Cuba while looking like Bruce Springsteen He had papes and had mad shit He had Clacks and Muggs sticking niggas like hot gritts But Fat Man's van got iked, and saw heavy man Riding the 190E with a metal pipe And tried to bug on my man Muggs But Muggs pulled out the 16 shot and threw two slugs And now you read it in the New York Post How a man got slain by an insane Co-Host Jiganti's blowin' like a motherfucker And Clacks got a Range Rover with a chauffeur And yo, Shit got deep and all of that but yo black Why did it have to go down like that? [Verse 9: Method Man] Shit's gonna happen if niggas start actin' Like they want problems You want 'em? You got 'em Rap contact, is writin' this exact- Ly, the way it should, be, attack Killer Bees on the swarm Salaikum as-salaam, drops bombs like Qur'an The ism helps to stimulate my pugilism I bust rhymes like jism Impregnate the rhythm with the wisdom Decipher, the stee, I be hyper I dwindle the style, that rekindle like old flames Saliva, check the wicked flows I delyvah Oops, I mean deliver like the Hudson River Style came trite, trife like a thief in the night I be that sneaky-ass nigga bustin' nuts in yo wife Blasted, buggin' off Bacardi and acid Flippin' on the mic like gymnastic Tical! [Verse 9: Method Man] Do you want to flip this? Face, the Ghostface KIllah, check me Ha! It be the Method Man coming again God damn at your command Listen, when your gone, its right not now, but right fuckin' now Recogize who the man, Meth Tical Coming from the slums of the Shaolin Isle, I be smoking Like a 24 hour store I stays open Day light, and I'm about to catch this flight to the far side Some stay my style is trite as apartheid Knocking on the next mans door With the .44 automatic cocked for sure You get yours, first you gotta get mine son Read your horoscope saying that it can't be done Hey, I get down with the Angel of Death I be's a pirate lampin' on the Dead Man's chest What? What? Huh Niggas wanna get stressed I stick that ass for your Meth, Ghostface... [Verse 10: Ghostface Killah] Yeah, check it, fresh joint from out the stash Yo, yo, first of all son, peep the arson Many brothers I be sparking and busting mad light inside the dark And call me dough snatcher, just the brother for the rapture I hang glide, holding on strong, hard to capture Extravagant, RZA bake the track and it's militant Then I react, like a convict, and start killing shit It's manifested, the Gods work like appliances Dealing in my cypher I revolve around sciences 9th chamber, you get trapped inside my hallway You try to flee but you got smoked up by the doorway No question, I send your ass back, right to the essence Your whole frame is smothered in dirt, now how you resting? While I'll be trapped by sounds, locked behind loops Throwing niggas off airplanes cause cash rules Everything around me, black, as you can see Swallow this number one verse like God Degree Then analyze my soundtrack for satisfaction And you adapt like a flashback chain reaction