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Who Yall Rollin Wit

This song is by Method Man.

Uh., what's really good? Yo, yo, yo

It's the unstoppable, over come any obstacle
Y'all 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 y'all, steppin' in shit was good luck?
I got the hood stuck, now give the goods up

Y'all 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?

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
Y'all kids is slum, like the jewelry in Albi Square

We drinkin' Henny 'til we flip, poppin' bottles 'til we sick
All y'all haters eat a dick
Let's throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks
Tell me who y'all rollin' with

Method spits fire, the roof's on fire, my crew's on fire
Method spits fire, the roof's on fire, my crew's on fire
M e t h o d

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, y'all want it
Y'all 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

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

We drinkin' Henny 'til we flip, poppin' bottles 'til we sick
All y'all haters eat a dick
Let's throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks
Tell me who y'all rollin' with

Method spits fire, the roof's on fire, my crew's on fire
Method spits, the roof's on, my crew's on
(Yeah, y'all niggaz don't know it's a game)
(Until it starts again, let's do it, ha ha)

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 tryna 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 y'all 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, y'all better come on in, the water's fine
Jump on in, let's do it to 'em one more 'gain

We drinkin' Henny 'til we flip, poppin' bottles 'til we sick
All y'all haters eat a dick
Let's throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks
Tell me who y'all rollin' with

Method spits fire, the roof's on fire, my crew's on fire
Method spits fire, the roof's on fire, my crew's on fire

We drinkin' Henny 'til we flip, poppin' bottles 'til we sick
All y'all haters eat a dick
Let's throw a party in this bitch, all my niggaz and my chicks
Tell me who y'all rollin' with

Method spits fire, the roof's on fire, my crew's on fire
Method spits, the roof's on, my crew's on

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
Y'all stand up, man, Stapleton, the Wild West, Park Hill
Port Richmond, Now Born, Jungle Nilz, hah, Peace

Written by:

Raheem Buggs; Patrick Charles; David Drew; Clifford Smith

External links