Letra de Who Ya Rollin Wit - Method Man
Letra de canci�n de Who Ya Rollin Wit de Method Man lyrics
[Intro: Method Man]
Uh... what�s really good?
Yo, yo, yo..
[Method Man]
It�s the unstoppable, over come any obstacle
Ya�ll know my flavor, pack more punch than Tropical
Any mission possible, do what I gots to do
Labels gettin� butterfingers, and next they droppin� you
You think you know, but you have no idea
The Diary of a Meth Man, what�s this I hear?
Somebody told ya�ll, steppin� in shit was good luck?
I got the hood stuck, chh-chh, now give the goods up
Ya�ll done pushed up, past the point of no return
It�s Meth�s turn, so roll that shit up and let�s burn
I heard Philly got the best �scherm, out in Cali, they got the best perms
Now that we know, when will the rest learn?
Come on, each one, teach one, hear no evil, and I don�t speak none
Everything cool until that heat come
Just call my name, and I�ll be there
Ya�ll kids is slum, like the jewelry in Albi Square
[Chorus: Streetlife (Shawnna)]
We drinkin� Henny til we flip, poppin� bottles til we sick
All ya�ll haters eat a dick (yeah, uh)
Let�s throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks
Tell me who ya�ll rollin� with (yeah)
[Hook 2X: Streetlife (Method Man)]
Method spits fire (Fire!) The roof�s on (Fire!) My crew�s on (Fire!)
[Streetlife]
M-E-T, H-O-D..
[Method Man]
Man, I�m in the house like foreclosures
Talk sober, until some dog gets forced over
New York soldiers, be at ease, fall back
Never ever, I�m the New Era, like ball caps
Kid, whenever, whoever, whatever, ya�ll want it
Ya�ll can have it, the problem and answer, I�m all that
While we at it, let�s tighten up our grips around that cabbage
Silly rabbit, how many kid�s done tricked you on your carrots
The product of a bad package, like Bishop Don Juan it�s Magic
How I break �em like a bad habit, hit tracks like it�s target practice
Then let these darts take a stab at it
Niggaz ain�t got it, ain�t never had it
https://www.coveralia.com/letras/who-ya-rollin-wit-method-man.php
I jam like L.A. traffic, Jellyroll behind the wheel
And the passenger seat behind the field
It�s your boy, physically fit, mentally sick
Get dirty money, told you honey, I�m filthy rich
[Chorus]
[Hook 2X w/o "fire" the second time]
[Interlude: Method Man]
Yeah, ya�ll niggaz don�t know it�s a game
Until it starts again, let�s do it, haha!
[Method Man]
Six minutes, Method Man, you�re on
If you thinkin� you gon� slip and be alright, you�re wrong
You can see me lightin� the bong, while writin� the songs
That the crowd, is either singin� to or fightin� along, fightin� along
I�m try�nna tell you drugs is not your friends
And girlfriend, don�t try and front like you got your friend
I�m at the hotel, motel, Holiday Inn
And my chick�s a man-eater, she be swallowin� men
Aight, live from New York, it�s Saturday night
I got pipes that drain your confidence, and battery light
Aight, mami tight, but she ain�t really my type
If ya�ll don�t see me treat her right, then she ain�t really my wife
When I was young, I was stayin� in school, obeyin� rules
Play with my food, what makes you think I�m playin� with you?
This is it, ya�ll better come on in, the water�s fine
Jump on in, let�s do it to �em one more �gain
[Chorus]
[Hook 2X]
[Chorus]
[Outro: Method Man]
Yeah, Ladies Love Big John Studd
No doubt, dick up in your mouth
We do this shit everyday, I�m in the cut
With my main shit stain, Ray-Ray Gutter Butt
And we holdin� it down for the whole Staten Island, man
Nothin� else but Staten Island, man
Ya�ll stand up, man, Stapleton, the Wild West, Park Hill
Port Richmond, Now Born, Jungle Nilz, hah... Peace!
Uh... what�s really good?
Yo, yo, yo..
[Method Man]
It�s the unstoppable, over come any obstacle
Ya�ll know my flavor, pack more punch than Tropical
Any mission possible, do what I gots to do
Labels gettin� butterfingers, and next they droppin� you
You think you know, but you have no idea
The Diary of a Meth Man, what�s this I hear?
Somebody told ya�ll, steppin� in shit was good luck?
I got the hood stuck, chh-chh, now give the goods up
Ya�ll done pushed up, past the point of no return
It�s Meth�s turn, so roll that shit up and let�s burn
I heard Philly got the best �scherm, out in Cali, they got the best perms
Now that we know, when will the rest learn?
Come on, each one, teach one, hear no evil, and I don�t speak none
Everything cool until that heat come
Just call my name, and I�ll be there
Ya�ll kids is slum, like the jewelry in Albi Square
[Chorus: Streetlife (Shawnna)]
We drinkin� Henny til we flip, poppin� bottles til we sick
All ya�ll haters eat a dick (yeah, uh)
Let�s throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks
Tell me who ya�ll rollin� with (yeah)
[Hook 2X: Streetlife (Method Man)]
Method spits fire (Fire!) The roof�s on (Fire!) My crew�s on (Fire!)
[Streetlife]
M-E-T, H-O-D..
[Method Man]
Man, I�m in the house like foreclosures
Talk sober, until some dog gets forced over
New York soldiers, be at ease, fall back
Never ever, I�m the New Era, like ball caps
Kid, whenever, whoever, whatever, ya�ll want it
Ya�ll can have it, the problem and answer, I�m all that
While we at it, let�s tighten up our grips around that cabbage
Silly rabbit, how many kid�s done tricked you on your carrots
The product of a bad package, like Bishop Don Juan it�s Magic
How I break �em like a bad habit, hit tracks like it�s target practice
Then let these darts take a stab at it
Niggaz ain�t got it, ain�t never had it
https://www.coveralia.com/letras/who-ya-rollin-wit-method-man.php
I jam like L.A. traffic, Jellyroll behind the wheel
And the passenger seat behind the field
It�s your boy, physically fit, mentally sick
Get dirty money, told you honey, I�m filthy rich
[Chorus]
[Hook 2X w/o "fire" the second time]
[Interlude: Method Man]
Yeah, ya�ll niggaz don�t know it�s a game
Until it starts again, let�s do it, haha!
[Method Man]
Six minutes, Method Man, you�re on
If you thinkin� you gon� slip and be alright, you�re wrong
You can see me lightin� the bong, while writin� the songs
That the crowd, is either singin� to or fightin� along, fightin� along
I�m try�nna tell you drugs is not your friends
And girlfriend, don�t try and front like you got your friend
I�m at the hotel, motel, Holiday Inn
And my chick�s a man-eater, she be swallowin� men
Aight, live from New York, it�s Saturday night
I got pipes that drain your confidence, and battery light
Aight, mami tight, but she ain�t really my type
If ya�ll don�t see me treat her right, then she ain�t really my wife
When I was young, I was stayin� in school, obeyin� rules
Play with my food, what makes you think I�m playin� with you?
This is it, ya�ll better come on in, the water�s fine
Jump on in, let�s do it to �em one more �gain
[Chorus]
[Hook 2X]
[Chorus]
[Outro: Method Man]
Yeah, Ladies Love Big John Studd
No doubt, dick up in your mouth
We do this shit everyday, I�m in the cut
With my main shit stain, Ray-Ray Gutter Butt
And we holdin� it down for the whole Staten Island, man
Nothin� else but Staten Island, man
Ya�ll stand up, man, Stapleton, the Wild West, Park Hill
Port Richmond, Now Born, Jungle Nilz, hah... Peace!
