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K.b. Ridin'
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Method Man
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1
[Intro: Ghostface Killah (RZA) {Method Man}]
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Word (These mothafuckin' niggaz, man)
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Yeah, I hear that, you got that shit, right?
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(Yeah, I got it) Lemme hear it
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(I'ma two-way Sunn back right now
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Next time she show up right on time for this shit)
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Word, no doubt
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(Better stop smokin' on that shit)
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Fuck that, hey, don't do it with him
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(Whatever)
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Yo yeah, lemme get that mothafucka's sayin' on this, nigga
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(Yeah, niggaz be buggin' in here
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Nigga don't speak no fuckin' English, word?)
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You get me everything? (I got you a cheese joint)
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{Diamond buscuits, mothafucka!}
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[Break: Method Man (RZA) {Prodical}]
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Now let's see, we don't get down like that
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See, he holds his own, haha, he holds his own
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Haha, he holds his own (Bank!)
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(John Blizzy) {Straight like that}
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He holdin' twenty on this
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(Ghost Deini) {Uh-huh! Yeah!}
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(ShaCronz) {The invincible, baby)
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Bad boys (Suga Bang) {It's like that!}
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(D-Digi!)
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[Method Man (Prodical)]
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Spontaneous combustion got niggaz lustin'
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Fuckin' with this head bustin' track spanker
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Decaffinator, crab sinker, twenty-five
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Tryin' to live to see my forty acher, before I die
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Immaculate conceptions like loaded weapons
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Shootin' up ya rap session in mere seconds (Bluh! Bluh!)
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Ya whole style is undressin'
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Try to hide yaself behind the R&B section
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And got spotted, fuckin' with them fake artists who make garbage
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Now ya like a human target with no direction
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And no protection, rap nigga assed out and no question
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Dead and buried, we holdin' like the military
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Fuck Dog Shit, hide-out beats and hot cherries
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On virgin mic's, style very cri-Tical
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By any means necessary, mad lyr-ical
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The Ghostrider, want vengeance on you style biters
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Ya whole sect got you gassed 'til I sparked the lighter
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And burnt that ass like Dhalsim in Street Fighter
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I play the shadows, scopin' out you lime lighters and Desperados
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[Chorus: Suga Bang Bang (RZA) {Prodical}]
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Killa Beez is ridin' East to West, baby
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See our twenties spinnin' on our trucks, baby
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Diamonds, Cubans hangin' from our neck, baby
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Come on, come on
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[Interlude: RZA {Prodical}]
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{Baby cuz It's Not a Game}
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You see them mothafuckin' twenty-inch chromes spinnin'?
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{Rocked out, baby, ice hangin'}
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[Ghostface Killah (RZA)]
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Bailed out from drugs, almost retired from bubblin'
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Hammers was the guns under the rug, lift off my publishin'
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Jet to Miami, I chuggle-lug the beat
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Fiends beepin' me, I erase and delete (Come on)
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Surrounded my palm trees and sound-proof condos
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Tryin' out Spanish foods, Roberto's bangin' bongos
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Do whatever, crackin' down weather, it means nice
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Walkin' down the strip, these fat niggaz broke the ice
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Drive it in a host, the trucks, the gate's wide open
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A square box fell out, I'm hopin' it be coke and
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I snatched it, dipped into a parkin' lot and wrapped it
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See diamonds, pearls, rubies, gems, covered with acid
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Heavens to mega-troid, infants'll know I'm paranoid
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What she goes through, I'm on a next flight to St. Croix
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Sneaker boy and Genius, I heard he struck oil
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Him and Masta Killa own Fox and mad loyal
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[Chorus - last two lines only]
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Diamonds, Cubans hangin' from our neck, baby
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Come on, come on
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[Interlude: RZA {Prodical}]
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{The finest, baby, the finest}
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(You see them Linx hangin'?)
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[ShaCronz]
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Yo, yo
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You know I rarely fight, I keep heat plus I'm very nice
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I run with two-eighties on me like Jerry Rice
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I fuck with many birds, not the canary type
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I've seen a lot of happy days and scary nights
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My click hotter than fish grease, kids be diss-free
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Most of these labels can't handle this heat
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I love new twat, scrap ho's on a few blocks
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When my hate grows I let the tools pop
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A lot of these rap niggaz be fast to plea
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Raw cook up, Got the Hook-Up like Master P
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F.G., we don't talk, nigga, fast to squeeze
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Walk up and let a hundred shots crash ya V
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The first to pull out, the first to body somethin'
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I got all the heat all the shorties in ya lobby pumpin'
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Them dudes you standin' with probably frontin'
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Killa Bee Gang got that shit that keep ya hottie jumpin'
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What?
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[Chorus 2X]
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[Interlude: RZA {Prodical}]
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{Straight like that, baby, it's nuttin' less, K.B., baby
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Don't forget it, C.C.F.}
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You see the shits spinnin'?
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Come on, nigga! {Clamp on, baby} Come on!
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Yo, yo, tell them niggaz, son
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What? What?
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You see the shits spinnin'? {Yeah}
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Shit hangin', son, they hangin' {Better catch it}
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Come on! Come on!
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[Outro: Prodical (RZA)]
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Straight gangsta
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(Yo, you've just been experiencin'
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Wu-Tang Killa Beez - The Sting)
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Explosive, baby, comin' at you
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(Y'all mothafuckas know..
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The next chamber's the mothafuckin' weather)
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Look out for the Stingers, baby
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