and elephants All huntin' the same prey but the chase got them all negligent And Betty looks so elegant but our motive's dirty like sediments It takes
bout as sick as cancer If you could swallow my style, you probably rip ya pants off If you could bottle my style and sell it to somebody It'd probably
, I'm doing it again they tried to stop me but I'm doing it again Skepta, yeah I'm doing it again Boy Better Know I'm doing it again. All because of
grab someone Now first of all I'm the boss, I just wanna get that across Man even my Dentist hates when I floss Pull up to the club in a Pinto likes it
get decapitated Other words, you don't fuckin' give me head Then I'm have to take it And then after takin' that I'ma catch a case, it's gon' be fascinatin' It
it all in all I spit, Instead I always try to swallow it, Instead of staring at this wall and shit, While I sit writers block sick of all this shit, Can't call it
the funk, now it all spells, hey Enough enough, Ms. Fitted I'm with it If I did it, I was blitted, and probably shouldn't have quit it 'Cause yo, my
Ballin a lot, brawlin for props, callin the shots Hit the curb, birds all on the flock Jockin, like "who that there covered in all of them rocks" It'
100'll like Never disrespect a nigga grippin' the tec, it's my shit Put the flow in affect with my clique Go to the death, flow the best, my spit - I'm sick, it
lines! Rip game!? Fuck yo lives Sick range visions nigga, kick rocks or kick rhymes until the pain? (liquor it or liver) Sippin' it, sippin' it like Capri
t even think about it, don't trip, rip robotic Alot of quadrophonic, you can't stop this product I'm a mytholical psychotic, you do not got it Murderous
my supreme backpack I'm old school, hardcore like Black Flag Chasin rappers down, I chomp 'em up like Pac-Man Break you off bitch, I ain't got an off switch Started off
ridin' fast cars Weed all in the glass jar Chrome all on my crash bar Glocks all in my stash box Gats burst off, thugs take their shirts off Five niggaz drop off
It's on, I dedicate my lines to the PJ's Triple beams, Pyrex jars, smoking nickle weeds All we did is look mad fly, icicle rings Whatever homeboy, you want it
Down, Yes Y'all And to The Right Beat And You Can Even Dance or, Just Have A Seating, Seating yo, Yo, Yo [Method Man] what It Was, What It Is, It's Like
in the eye Y'all niggaz talk behind nigga's backs Y'all niggaz better bop ya mothafuckin heads before we blow it off Ya fuckin perfume missin idiots Y'all
killah priest] Yea, yea, yea, yea. Yea, yea. fuck that! (set it off.) yea, yea, ya shitted. Ya in some shit now, son. It's on now, mothafuckas can suck
verse one: U-God/Golden Arms) It be the Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang I got control drop a load Time to rip shit Time to rock and roll I play the block and stroll