*featuring Redman
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[Redman]
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It's Funk Doc
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Where da weed at, bitch?!
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I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops
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See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!
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Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for t.v.
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Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to
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Project-ballers
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You yell: "Turn the heat down!"
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My voice, divi-di-round-sound,
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some heard round town
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And chances are ya'll leavin', round now
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Wait later, will make Funk page paper
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Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders
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Hit the High School at 187 Caesar
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When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres
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Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw
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The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?
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I'm from the underground, my soundlib
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Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!
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[Chorus:]
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[Meth & Red]
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GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP
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JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!
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Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM
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Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM
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Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE OUT,
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EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL FEEL IT!
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Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM
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Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM
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[Meth]
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Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'
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Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN'?
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My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-scorchin',
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but stone cold like Steve Austin
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If you smell what Tical cookin',
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ain't tryin' to see central bookin'
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So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last
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summer?
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So I started hookin', you past shookin'
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Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?
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Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop Of
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Horrors
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Go ask your father who the father from the (Park)Hill
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to (Mariners)Harbor
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You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and Goldschlager
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With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon and
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Reggie
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Don't even bother, to radio for back-up
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Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for his
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icin'
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Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!
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Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear
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Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew
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Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera
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People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors
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Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a bone
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Straight from the Catacombs
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The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue
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Prepare for desert storm!
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[Chorus]
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I scored 1.1 on my SAT
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And still push a whip with a right and left AC
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Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called
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I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars
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Spit poison, got a gun permit draw
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Gundown at Sundown you keep score!
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This training-course and ya'll ain't fit
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On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'
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[Meth]
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Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you learn?
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Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn
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I spit a.41 Revolver on New Year's Eve
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With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s
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The most slept on since Rip Van Wink
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My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc
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So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one drink?
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You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe
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Go get a shrink...
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[Chorus]
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-----------------
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Blackout
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Method Man |