Lyrics:

Chorus:

P.L.O. style, Buddha monks with the Owls
P.L.O. style, Buddha monks with the Owls
P.L.O. style, Buddha monks with the Owls
P.L.O. style...

Verse One: Method Man

Here comes the ruckus, the motherfucking ruckus
Thousands of cut-throats and crumb-snatching fuckers
Straight from the brain, I'll be givin you the pain, anger
Coming from the 36th Chamber, Bang!
Tical, hitting with the Buddha-Fist style
Shotgun slamming in your chest piece, plow!
Brain, is blown all over the terrain
Like a man without no arms you can't hang
Time for a change of the guard
You've been arrested for lyric fraud now you barred
For real, check it, I pull strings like B.B. King on guitar
I'm the true fist of the North Star!

Verse Two: Carlton Fisk, Method Man

Ooooooooh! What a tangled web we weave
When first we practice to deceive
Guns be clicking, running with my clan we be sticking
Whatever, my street family stays together
Represent what I invent, Killah Hill
Resident, rest in peace to my nigga Two Cent
The street life is the only life I know
I live by the code style it's mad P.L.O...
Iranian thoughts are covered like an Arabian
Grab the nigga who on the spot and put a nine to his cranium

I..can't...get no satisfaction, niggas won't be lasting
Long, unless they get protection, for real
Strong, coming with my clan so what's happening
Commercial rap, hate it with a passion

The M-E-T-H-O-D got me drinking O.E. all night in a M.P.V.
Just maxing, looking for hoes, you know relaxing
Bitches know the hour it be time for some action

P.L.O., peace to that nigga Barryano
Word up, let's take him to the bridge, Verrazano

Chorus