My lyrics be like the spirit of a teen gone wild
Shit is after ten bitch wheres your child
With a nine in his pocket lockin it down like penile
I did the knowledge to born
Your style straight corn
I woke up in the morning
Heard your shit and just yawned
You fuckin up my high
No lie
You can die
??
Before i break you up like god
Yo its the herb slinger
New style bringer
Rap is for my war plan
Fat like Corporal Clinger
We still bring the hardcore with r&b singers
While the beast ask you out like hoes on Jerry Springer
[Verse 4]
Yo rally hot boys feel so sick
And I won't stop 'til I'm so so rich
While Y'all niggas spit
I (WHOOO) blow hits
Don't waste time
And I don't waste rhymes
Few minutes, shit
Track done like swiss
If you ain't hot come like this
Real niggas hold a gun like this
Pop something, one in your leg
Make your ass run like this
Now picture that
Defeat rhymes never that
Son son you brave
You ain't a man cause you got a little something to shade
I've been a thug since the sixth grade
Rockin a fade
Young Boomy
Look what the ghetto done to me
Made you bolder now
Heart colder now
Brick soldier now
Gun holder now
Nigga snath my chain, catch him hold him down
Hit him with the hot slugs like over now
I know you wanna test rock, what you waitin for
I live one-thirty-eight basement door
City up north you can't escape the raw
Find me where channel live be at
(What is this)
Ghetto Business
[Beat Fades Out]
[Rowdy Rahz Freestyle]
You aint fin to blow up shit
Youre merely a bomb threat
How the fuck you gonna move a crowd
You aint moved out from your moms yet
I'm a vet, better yet a vet-er-an
The words smith and wessun
Like megatron
Understand I'm past hip-hop
I should be put into tiny ziplocks
Distributed by those who flip rocks
Leak use after word Smith b
So dope you better sniff me
And learn to keep me out ya mouth
Get me
I'm goin to Armaghetto swiftly
My whole click be sickly
So we don't sleep we spit in bed
Those thats trying to get hit in the head
Fuck around and get hit in the head
Everything I write is either a death sentence or a blood line
For those who love nines
We don't stand in club lines
We V.I.P
Thugs love to hear me spit that
If you ain't down with ghetto business
THERE'S THE EXIT PUNK, HIT THAT !

Lyrics to / for Ghetto B.I. by Method Man.
More songs and lyrics from Method Man on the album Singles.
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