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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Song: | Dat's Dat Shit |
Album: | Blackout! | Genres: | Rap |
Year: | 1999 |
Length: | 260 sec |
Lyrics:
[Method Man] Uh, get ya stank on
[Radio voice] WWKYA, WE'RE KICKIN YOUR ASS!
[Mally G/Jamal] My receitals is worth ten titles I shit on wrote Bibles, if you don't like me I don't like you I liable to load the rifle, hit the roof and snipe you The shit I spit damaging your vitals Nobody ride through like my squad do Got all y'all players suicidal Actin niggas, take two You heard the news, I'ma break it to ya We're here to headline the bill and Featuring Funk Doc, Tical and the villain A mic murder for hire, ten grand a killin Yo Funk Doc, pass the glock, this bitch nigga grillin I make moves wit my big dog ?bounce? Staten Island to the Bricks for mo' chips and mo' pounds Y'all know who really lockin this shit down When we rock it, don't we all stand out? Y'all hazardarious, clear out Get ya ass out 'fore I tear it out And show you what I'm talkin 'bout
[Chorus: Redman, Method Man (Young Zee)] Yo get ya up and get ya high, ha! Get ya stoned and get ya wide Dat's dat shit (like or not, niggas sleepin wit the fifth) Dat's dat shit (like or not, bitches fightin over dick) Aiyyo we get ya up and get ya high (yeah) Get ya stoned and get ya wide Dat's dat shit (like or not, niggas sleepin wit the fifth) Dat's dat shit (like or not, bitches fightin over dick)
[Redman] I'm high-powered, the dog rott weiler Chocolate thai showers got Doc cookin minute rice for five hours You wet cowards, I'm live wire Ya bitch ass probably wash ya hands wit Palmolive Yo Bricks holler, I got the plan printed Load it and it goes like summer jam tickets Fam can't dig it, pop goes the wea-sel You be hidin under your peacoat wit people I told cops, roll blocks, no props Fo' pops, Hennesy back and we both shot That's how we go out, are you the thug type? To ride down like Hopper from a Bug Life? Watch the movie, haters tried to eye screw D Your beef in small claims court, Judge Judy When you and I meet up, the fight heat up Bloody up ya wife beater then light weed up
[Chorus]
[Method Man] I melt wax, Cuban Link chain react Breezin through these tracks wit the highest of velocity Play me like Monopoly Pay me everytime you trespass on my property I'm Dick Dastardly, no use in cop blockin me Sloppily, your woman on the stop-watch clockin me Possibly I rock well, somebody always watchin me Livin in the street life, my eyes seen atrocity Undress a kid properly When I keeps it movin that means there ain't no stoppin me Constant motivation, the god fiend bury kings Proper education, Allah sees everything How High, just another form of elevation That's why I choose to build from the basement Twelve-thirty-one-ninety-nine, times are wastin More these Hot Dog MC's next to Nathan Allah Math, break the phonograph in half Promoters on some bullshit, short wit Johhny cash (Dat's dat shit) They got snitches rattin on the click (Dat's dat shit) They got bitches fightin over dick WHERE THE LOVE AT, when you're young, broke and black It's over there, in the ashtray, who got a match?
[Chorus]
[Young Zee] Yeah yeah yeah, Young Zee got bitches fightin over dick
[Redman] Get ya up and get ya high Funk Doc got bitches fightin over dick
[Method Man] Yeah yeah yeah yeah, Meth-Tical got bitches fightin over dick
[Redman (Young Zee)] Get ya up and get ya high (All y'all stupid bitches keep fightin over dick) Get ya stoned and get ya wide Get ya up and get ya high (HIIIIIGH!) Get ya stoned and get ya wide wide (Yeah yeah) Get ya stoned and get ya high (Fightin over dick) Get ya stoned and get ya high ha Get ya up and get ya high ha (Fightin over dick) Get ya stoned and get ya high ha
Method Man Dat's Dat Shit
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