BelmontRadioWorks

August 26, 2011

Hey, you, get off my cloud
You don’t know me and you don’t know my style
Who be gettin flam when they come to a jam?
Here I am here I am, the Method Man
Patty cake patty cake hey the method man
Don’t eat Skippy, Jif or Peter Pan
Peanut butter, cuz I’m not butter
In fact I snap back like a rubber
band, I be Sam, Sam I am
And I dont eat green eggs and ham
Style will hit ya, wham!, then goddamn
You be like oh shit that’s the jam
Turn it up now hear me get buckwu-wu-wild
I’m about to blow light me up
Upside downside inside and outside
Hittin you from every angle there’s no doubt
I am, the one and only Method Man
The master of the plan wrappin shit like Saran
Wrap, with some of this and some of that
Hold up (what?) I tawt I tat I putty tat
Over there, but I think he best to beware
Of the diggy dog shit right here
Yippy yippy yay yippy yah yippy yo
Like Deck said this aint your average flow
Comin like rah ooh ah achie kah
Tell me how ya like it so far baby paw
The poetry’s in motion coast to coast and
Rub it on your skin like lotion
What’s the commotion, oh my lord
Another corn chopped by the Wu-Tang sword
Hey hey hey like Fat Albert
It’s the Method Man ain’t no if ands about it
It’s the Method

Man
Uhh, like that baby paw
Uhh

I got, fat bags of skunk
I got, White Owl blunts
And I’m about to go get lifted
Yes I’m about to go get lifted

I got, myself a forty
I got, myself a shorty
And I’m about to go and stick it
Yes I’m about to go and stick it