Elements Lyrics by Method Man

Elements Lyrics

    [Method Man]
    (There...there?)
    One more game
    Yo, uh huh uh huh
    Staar
    Surround sounder, blunt smokin, remy downer
    Hip-hop sizzar slingin my raw in your flounder
    You get skidawed, undertakin' undergrounders
    This lyricist, lounge with low, that be lounger
    Aliens is out of townish, fuck applause
    niggas clap now with forty pounders, and fourty-fours
    Is it all, fair in love with war
    Young 'uns with guns, acting like they taking yours, uh
    Live by the sword, they gonna die by the sword, uh
    My vocal cords break the laws that apply to nature
    Low and these niggas love to hate ya
    Request the henney straight no chaser
    Twin towerin' I skyscrape ya
    Now gimme yours

    [Star]
    Trifled disciple, arch rival reppin with weapons that homicidal
    Star leaves you marked from the start like tribal scars
    (Allah punk) I'm hazardous as a bomb and arms spinnin' like Christ
    Recitin' psalms in the streets of Babylon
    (Verbs I gather well) ??? data shells
    My squad camoflauge your wealth
    Like the bible with parabels
    With the navigator, spittin razor sharp, breath laser data
    That'll tickle you now, but sway you later

    [Method Man]
    On this one call me Lee Major
    Million dollar man, bionic or proffesor chronic
    Still not a player, I just fuck alot the panty raider
    Get shortys mad, they curse you wild on your sky pager
    Stankin' ass

    [Polite]
    Yo Mr. Big Mouth, better duck down or bite the bullet
    You niggas got guns but you scared to death to pull it
    Bet if I pull my gun I'm gon' squeeze
    I'm startin at your head, son, and stoppin' at your knees
    I hate your screwmugs, rumble counterfeit thugs
    Niggas want mine, bet they come and get it in blood
    Fat potential, gave birth to a corrupt mental
    Foul thoughts paralyzin temples, it's just that simple

    Chorus
    [All]
    You better come with your best gun
    Niggas be holdin', it's all war no fun
    Niggas be bowlin', you niggas under pressure now
    My squads down for whatever with whoever now
    Let's get it on
    Best to come with your best gun
    Niggas be rollin', it's all war no fun
    Niggas be holdin', you niggas under pressure now
    My squads down for whatever with whoever now
    Let's get it on

    [Star]
    Arm leg shots to hit the spot like a four fifth glock
    We got this hip-hop shilock and all you clique got
    Was lip lock, heavy heat, steady street sweepin your peeps
    Hawks, machete chops puttin' cease to your petty fleets
    This raw rebel got more metal than pop
    And rock groups, when my glock shoots the scores settled
    A ground attack, I'm bound to clap rounds of rap
    Clowns are found flat, face down around the map
    Simple minds, cripple smiles, my rhymes are four five
    The size oh two nines combine, can't even tickle mine

    [Method Man]
    I told you once, I told your ass a thousand times, chump
    Body in the trunk, stay in line punk,
    (Fucking with your mind?)

    [Polite]
    Yo
    You be the actual, sixteen bars, comin' after you
    Never go against my team, they might embarrass you
    Slit-slang terrorist talk, fully armed
    Put your hands up, I'ma put a hole in your paws
    Ruin your side show, eyes low, brains fried from hydro
    Two choices, bass off or either die slow
    We all scholars when it's time to clean a dirty dollar
    Attack the boards, it's like a rotweiler

    [Method Man]
    Niggas comin out they shoes like they Usher
    These motherfuckers on the run, and they socks from
    The bounty hunter, Iron Lungster, rain and thunder
    Here come the lightning now I'm strikin' back at niggas bitin'
    Pushin' buttons just to step away from self-destruction
    Inch and a half away from touchin' somethin'
    Suckin' away from bustin'
    Yall brothers laugh now and cry later
    I rap from Alpha to Omega, sixty four to Sega
    Whoopin' that ass, walk you dogs through the lookin' glass
    Been burnin' MC's since cookin' class
    Makin' it hot like the summer in the crackspot
    With blacktops, my nickle slot, triple bar, hit the jackpot
    On each block, I'm the remedy, send them back to me
    After detock, shorty got knuckles in the Reebok
    Plus we got a problem with the Benz
    (What's the problem with the Benz)
    She want the six-hundred, but she aint got the ends

    Chorus
    [All]
    You better come with your best gun
    Niggas be holdin', it's all war no fun
    Niggas be bowlin', you niggas under pressure now
    My squads down for whatever with whoever now
    Let's get it on

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