paroles de chanson Blackout - Man

: Meth
*All my people...!*
It's Funk Doc
Where da weed at, bitch?!
I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops
See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!
Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for t.v.
Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to Project-ballers
You yell: "Turn the heat down!"
My voice, diggi-di-round-sound, some herb round town
And chances of ya'll leavin', round now
Wait later, will make Funk page paper
They rape up the Juveline Ave Graders
Hit the High School at 187 Caesar
When I bust ya'll need to back 4 achers
Doc ya'll and that's my man Jap-A-Jaw
The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?
I'm from the underground, my soundlib
Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!

: Meth & Red
GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH 'EM
JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!
Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM
Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM
Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT
MOVE OUT, EVEN KNOCK THE TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL FEEL IT!
Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM
Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM

Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'
A pursuit with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN'?
My hand that rock yo' cradle often
I'm hot-scorchin', but stome cold like Steve Austin
If you smell what Tical cookin', ain't try to see, send you bookin'
So til ya gon' stop lookin', now what you did last summer?
So I started hookin', you past shookin'
Over open can I ass-whoopin'?
Ain't no Tamara's in the Method's Little Shop Of Horrors
Go ask your father who the father from the Hilbill harbour
You know tha saga, marihuana plushin' gold sluggaz
With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon and Reggie
Don't even bother, the radio for back-up
Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for his icin'
Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!*
Come meet me like Tyson and bite a nigga' ear
Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew
Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, Exatorer
People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors
Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a bone
Straight from the Caticone
The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue
Prepare for desert storm!

I scored 1.1 on my SAT
And still pushin' whip with a right and left AC
Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get caught
I'm behind the brickwall with Aus and Nick Jaws
Spit poison, got a gun permit draw
Gundown at Sundown you keep score!
This training-course and ya'll ain't fit
On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'

Yo', all you gonna be, want to be
When will you learn? want to be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn
I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve
With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s
The most slapped on? and wink
My shit stink with every element from A to Z
So what you think? I'ma blackout on just one drink?
You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe
Go get a shrink...