Cheka - Method Man, Redman

Riggidi-raow!

Steppin out the crowd throwin bolos

Fliggidi-flame on!

Twin chrome fo'-fo's

Loadin it up, pack in the back, ready to splash for real

Spit flows out the gill, God tried to build

It’s hectic, 45−6 gimme ya grips

That’s more dollars in them thongs than them go-go chicks

Bitch I’m drunk, pumpin slugs out of cannon

Shut ya after-party down when Meth and Red in Check it, Bricks and Shaolin, NO JOKE!

And when I hit the pussy call me Daddy Long Stroke

Oh Anna, I’m hittin pigeons out in Atlanta

Banana-split;

HACH-TOO, SPIT!

(OH SHIT!)

Stickin ya rippin ya four or ya funds

I wet ya like a hundred and forty-one water guns

Cock d’like Rocky

So hold on you bitches RED-METH!

Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka!

Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka!

Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka!

Fuck with me and Meth and we break ya fuckin neck-a (Remember this?)

Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka!

(Remember this?)

Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka!

(Remember this?)

Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka!

(Remember this?)

Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka!

Okay to hey hey baby, me and Doc about to blow

My Saturday Night’s a Special and their pointed at your nose

Aiy-yo, save the speculations and the rumors

Comin sooner then you think I knock a fat bitch out her bloomers

Givin tumors, hardcore, givin it to 'em raw

Landshark, Southpaw, so kids say I Jabb-er-jaw

One-two, no ending or beginning to my cypher

I’m winning tell the news like Peter Jennings

Depending, on any given day I’m representing

The struggle, my great grand who lived through the lynching

Oh yes y’all, if you got the weed, who got the blunts?

Take a guess y’all, Kool-Aid bustin thruough the wall

Mr. Meth y’all, AHH-CHU!

Comment alllez vous?

I used to hawk chickens, now I’m maxin with Badu

I represent — Wu, my uzi weighs a — ton

I’m swingin the track from Staten

cause Staten’s where I’m from

— repeat to fade