Lyrics Episode 7 - Bridge Boys - Method Man , Roc

Rockness, what up?
Ron Browz, what up?
Staten Island, what up?
Hanz, what up?
Apple, what up?
Time to go in, hah
Ch′yeah

Feel the tension when I walk into a room
Watch your step and watch your tone, boy, you talkin' to a goon
Been a problem since them oldheads was snortin′ off the spoon
Half you rappers gettin' short bread and offered Lorna Doones
Put a ratchet on your forehead, I'm talkin′ to baboons
I remain a Major Payne if you ain′t part of my platoons
I'm a warhead, you know, big explosion with the ′shroom
It's the sandman, they hopin′ I dont show up with the broom
That's a sweeper
They knockin′ at your door, that's the reaper
With lead arms all around your head, that's a sleeper
Rappers paranoid, that′s the reefer
I mean if she a bad broad and let you raw dog, that′s a keeper
My sisters, they don't rock with my dad, my moms either
Now I′m here with Rock, I'ma dad with mom′s features
Ironic, I never make a threat that I couldn't promise
Be honest, I′m dope and I ain't never spoke ebonics

The players might change but the game don't stop (Woo)
Tryna move some ′caine, get it Range or a drop
Forbes sayin′ I made it (Sayin' I made it)
But tell ′em I'm hood famous (But tell ′em I'm hood famous)
The players might change but the game don′t stop (Woo)
Tryna move some 'caine, get it Range or a drop
One more blunt 'cause I′m faded (Blunt ′cause I'm faded)
Just for the niggas that hate it (Niggas that hate it)

It′s a fifty-fifty chance niggas gon' die over nothin′
Get hit, sit calm, nigga, try somethin' funny
Road warrior, Musa almost got locked up abroad
Heard you snitchin′ on bitches, dude, you locked up a broad
Maybe Jamaican fakin' but you would not, no reward
Class by myself but I am not no schoolboy
I'm not a mama′s boy but I am my mama′s boy
For her, I would gladly go nuts, that's my Almond Joy
I ain′t no boy scout but your boy
Scout your boy like a scout and report
Put one in your boy's scalp (Boom)
Meth′ll manhandle your man and you
I ain't even gon′ let him do that, bo-blap, blam dude
Don't get your hands dirty, son
Son gon' do his whole fam dirty
Word to P and Dirty

The players might change but the game don′t stop (Woo)
Tryna move some ′caine, get it Range or a drop
Forbes sayin' I made it (Sayin′ I made it)
But tell 'em I′m hood famous (But tell 'em I′m hood famous)
The players might change but the game don't stop (Woo)
Tryna move some 'caine, get it Range or a drop
One more blunt ′cause I′m faded (Blunt 'cause I′m faded)
Just for the niggas that hate it (For the niggas that hate it, yeah)