paroles de chanson Therapy (Clean) - Method Man , Redman , Masta Killa

Yo, I gotta be around this music, it's therapeutic
The first fresh thoughts of the day are so clear
When I walk, in my head there's a voice that talks
In my ear, I can hear so clear, you think I'm buggin', right?
I'm just contemplating, deciding on how to flow this
Out to the West Side, my killer Cali gangstas ride
And get they head right, yo son, I'm on the next flight in
Twist something tight, I'm guaranteed to write a hit song
Before we reach, throw the instrumental on
And watch this word pattern of speech, men form
Military armed, ready to swarm, get your party on
Drinks is on the house tonight, ladies looking right
Atmosphere nice and warm, we backstage like a hundred thieves strong
Ghost want the red light on before we get on
An hour's too short to rock, we got a million songs

Yo, I gotta be around this music, it's therapeutic
Light my first blunt of the day then start to move, man
I'm sitting in the room with a view
There's always room for improvement
So I grab my coat and go and prove it
Just me against the world, you can find me in the streets
You don't spot me in the lobby, probably find me in a freak
Cop Ferraris, the lobby and the lining of my seats
Tryna put me in a lineup 'til I wind up in the beast
That's the belly, how dare they try to tell me when to eat
With a plate of food barely in my reach
My team shoot dice, we used to shoot skelly in the streets
Wear the same Pelle Pelle's for a week
But now we living life, and such a good life
I wish that I could live it twice
I'll probably make the same wiz my wife
It's Wu-Tang Clan, always collect cheddar
Proper education always correct errors

Yo, bananas, Redman so gorilla
Chi-Town, know I'm pimpin' the mic nigga
One hit and chicks follow me like Twitter
Crack when I talk, I light the mic skimmer
The fiends hit it, chicks swing with it
I box shit in like Don King did it
16S I write, it seems so vivid
My notebooks, I'm letting eBay bid it
I get dough, bad pair for the sick flow
My weed more greener than Lou Ferrigno
My right hand man hand on the pecko
I crack these squares up like Nabisco
Oh, look at me, I'm light-weight
But with the heart to peel back your white meat
Your wifey want me to make her wifey
Hit it, make the bitch hyphy at high speed, Doc