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The ? Lyrics

Artist: Method Man
Album: Blackout!


Man he must of bumped his motherfucking head or something


Yo M.C.'s out there, you betta stand clear

Its Funk Doc M.E.F., on the world premiere

From New Jers straight talk, america's best

Co' Island Stantond Island is where I'm at

Y'all amateurs act like hoes affendin us

We're special eders go on tours on banana bus

D. O. same m.o., drive through bricks

Chicken shotty, that ass make me lie to my bitch

Word to god doc throw more lines then fishin rod

No stars, we're supergod non recouperb-alls (yo)

Buttons is pressed to remove the press

Press a bullshit, my index press a full clip (YO)

Set up cones when I'm firing chrom

I hittin ladies to old men in retirement homes

Dail 9-1-1 runnin gun in the street dungeon

Earth, moon and stars checkin out what the sun done

Suspects change clothes

Before I leave the heat, I put two in rain grove for my range rove

Hot to death, cops is vex

I push a buck 60 if they try to block the lex

Drive by on the baja

Snatch the cartier watch I

Boucnce laughing off like clue "HAHA"

Doc is like poppy, supplying you grand

So breaka breaka while I turn it to the Shoalin Man

Method Man

Foreva underground

Nigga duck the mic when we come around

Control hammer like the mighty dog

Bringin thunda down

Now you're in store for predator

Like refugees I come to settle score

Half-baked medifore, that taste even better raw

Hardcore holy war

Hits from the resevoir, southpaw saboteur

Land sharks get they chin checked when I jabba jaw

Time to walk my labrodor

Livin out my dreams, at the same time shatter yours

Code red fill 'em full of lead

Greatful dead live from Hemstead

Tiger Kunk Fu know the ledge

Check the full fledged knucklehead

Clam bread, livin on the edge used to be the best

Jack Frost sniffin at your nose, get your Suddafed

Rap Cheech and Chong, me and Red official budda head

Off track like O.D.B., I'm too black

I'm like Zoro, I mark a Wu, sign your back, motherfucka


(It aint even a question) This side niggaz too hardcore

(It aint even a question) That side niggaz too hardcore

(It aint even a question) In the middle niggaz too hardcore

So what cha, what cha, what cha, want (What cha want?)

(It aint even a question) Def Squad niggaz too hardcore

(It aint even a question) Wu Tang niggaz too hardcore

(It aint even a question) Def Jam nigga too hardcore

(Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up) So what cha, what cha, what cha, want?


Yo stomp wit the big dogs

Sick dog lurkin (Roof Roof)

Doc bradshaw, behind ball plant and steel curtains

Denver Bronco fan, glock squirtin

Brick city, stering wheel hurtin

Prepare y'all fast car for lane mergin

Hasta manana, y'all crash like that Yanna cock block into gramma

Got cock in Atlanta, rockin P.P.P. Bandanas

While we fuck 'em on camera

It's too late to plant bate for my click to fall

We dodge boobie-traps and pitfalls and thick fog

When I tee, LA ride, "It's y'alls"

Website couldnn't find a site wit macintosh

On John Walsh

America's Most, aim for spots to put more in a terrier coat

Method Man

Uh huh, we speak for the unheard

Caught in the matrix

Sound from the subbasement, "Spread the word"

Like uncureables from dirty bird, beyond basic

John Wu these fake niggaz, give 'em replacements

The thrilla of a park killer

Bubonic plague any M.C., that swear he illa

Inject the dufus wit the lupus

Yukmouth rhymes that leave him toothless

My filled fly and filled groupless

Observe the record, livin out my name Repid

Study man and all his methods

And through his ethic, learn to expect the unexpected

One step ahead I, return like Jedi

Three hours behind your punk ass, catchin a red eye

First class but cooler than coach, murder he wrote

On the wall of the bathroom stalls shittin these quotes

"Fuck you all"

Scaredy cat kid, duckin these dogs

You don't like us, then we don't like y'all. Lick The Balls!

Be easy, speak easy

This one be off the heazzzaaaayyy

Like my pubic hair, black and greazzzzzaaayyyy


(It aint even a question) x5




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