Текст песни Grid Iron Rap - Method Man

I Silver Surf the city circuits, forever lurkin
On the street surface, I spit blood for blood verses
Grands man divided, we still stand, conquer land
One man'll body slam Def Jam
Focus your headcam zoom in, with radio tune in
I know you're listenin, so I keep showin and provin
Play the sideline, waitin for the right time to take mine
Street crime, nickel and dime rhyme
Fuck a peace talk, let the gun spark, on the streets of New York
I Shaolin Strut through the city asphault (FED UP!)
Hold your head up, I'm circlin the block, keep your eyes up
Wise up, before you get sized up (TIED UP!)
Play no games, speakin on my name, you catch a clipful
From close range, diggin in your pocket, take the loose change
Punch the data in your mainframe, you want it all
I want the same thang, strive to maintain, live out my name
Hard to obtain, hard to explain, ain't nuttin changed
Leave the same way I came, bringin motherfuckin pain
Killa Hill Projects, high-tech street intellect
Let's connect, blow your headset, fuck a mic check
Ring around the underground, pocket full of sound
Ashes to ashes, y'all niggaz goin down
Yo. eat shit and die slow, battle ground no survival
You goin down, y'all niggaz fuck around
Shittin where you sleepin, so my rhyme proposal
Came indecent, beef from the butcher sink your teeth in
Fuck what you believe in, you real fake, fishin in the same lake
Eatin off the same cake you blowface
Who got that ready-cooked, synthetic look, actin crook
Betty-shook worm, tryin to shake the hook, as the world turn
Nigga burn, once again the supersperm
Rub it in your skin, like it's Lubriderm, time took to write this
The war will be fought by the righteous
Who stand criticized, by his un-A*Alike-ness
Knowledge is the jewel, and it's priceless
Real like them Rahway Lifers, nuttin but time on my hands
Observe the black sands in the hourglass, fallin fast
In this savage land, haulin ass, Days of Thunder
It's road rad, your days are numbered
What RZA put together let no man tear asunder (motherfucker)
This is P.L.O., Killa Hill flow, but you don't hear me though
Live in stereo, pump it loud until your speaker blow
Ghett-io slang pro, sling rap to cashflow
Keep it live from the intro until the outro
Killa Hill Projects, high-tech street intellect
Let's connect, blow your headset, fuck a mic check
Ring around the underground, pocket full of sound
Ashes to ashes, y'all niggaz goin down
My dick! (My dick!)
I'm on a suicide run, y'all niggaz know the outcome
Razor sharp tongue leave scars in your eardrum
Forty-five bar seminar ghetto rap star
Slide like water rats through the Staten Resevoir
Swingin swords cut your mic cords, snatch your rap awards
Commercial cats, fuckin up the game, that's why I crash boards
Drape floors while you Jordan, keep on tryin yours
Hardcore, somethin that my street niggaz is dyin for
Snap your neck and the dopefiend, Gobol 13
Professionals we know things, say no more
Check my Dogs at the Resevoir, gourmet special of the day
Is nigga souflee, pusher gotta pay
And the games people play, John Jay back around the way
Fish filet, Mr. DJ, turn it up a notch
Hit the replay, for dirt bomb niggaz in the PJ
To cling-on, bring-on, the good times, to key-on
Rhymes that's be-yond, your thinkin, for eons
I been here, to shine on the black mind
Tell you like the last time, year of the grimy nigga
Ragtime, bad sign, flatline.