Honies shake your hips, ya don't stop
And niggaz pack the clips, keep on
[Verse Two: Meth, Notorious]
Verse two, comin with that Olde E brew
Meth-tical, puttin niggaz back in I.C.U.
I'm lifted troop, you can bring yours wack ass crew
I got connections, I'll get that ass stuck like glue, huh
No question, I be comin down and shit
Yo I gets rugged as a motherfuckin carpet get
And niggaz love it, not in the physical form but in the mental
I spark and they cells get warm
I'm not a gentle, man, I'm a Method, Man!
Baby accept it, utmost respect it
(Assume the position) Stop look and listen
I spit on your grave then I grab my Charles Dickens
Welcome to my center
Honies feel it deep in they placenta
Cold as the pole in the winter
Far from the inventor, but I got this rap shit sewed
And when my Mac unloads
I'm guaranteed another video
Ready to die, why I act that way?
Pop Duke left Mom Duke
The faggot took the back way
So instead of makin hoes suck my dick up
I used to do stick-up
Cause hoes is irritatin like the hic-CUPS
Excuse me, flows just grow through me
Like trees to branches
Cliffs to avalanches
It's the praying mantis
Deep like the mind of Farrakhan
A motherfuckin rap phenomenon, plus
(I got more glocks and techs than you)
I make it hot (Nigga won't even stand next to you)
Nigga touch me you better bust me
tree times in the head
Or motherfucker's dead, ya thought so
[[Chorus] repeat 2X]

Lyrics to / for The What by Method Man.
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