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Текст (слова) песни: Method Man - Blackout

[Redman]
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, divi-di-round-sound,
some heard round town
And chances are ya`ll leavin`, round now
Wait later, will make Funk page paper
Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders
Hit the High School at 187 Caesar
When I bust ya`ll need to back 4 acres
Doc ya`ll and that`s my man JabberJaw
The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?
I`m from the underground, my soundlib
Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!
[Chorus]:
Meth & Red
GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP
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 YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA`LL FEEL IT!
Brrrrr...STICK `EM, HA-HAHA STICK `EM
Brrrrr...STICK `EM, HA-HAHA STICK `EM
[Meth]
Now I`m the streettalkin`, dogwalkin`
Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN`?
My hand that rock yo` cradle often I`m hot-scorchin`,
but stone cold like Steve Austin
If you smell what Tical cookin`,
ain`t tryin` to see central bookin`
So til ya gon` stop lookin`, know what you did last
summer?
So I started hookin`, you past shookin`
Offer open can of ass-whoopin`?
Ain`t no tomorrow`s in the Method`s Little Shop Of
Horrors
Go ask your father who the father from the (Park)Hill
to (Mariners)Harbor
You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and Goldschlager
With deadly medley, ya`ll ain`t ready for Shakwon and
Reggie
Don`t even bother, to radio for back-up
Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for his
icin`
Streetlife is triflin` *Body over here...!
Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga` ear
Precisin`, slicin` juggerless the cut-crew
Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera
People`s champ, niggaz be takin` off competetors
Reachin` for the microphone, relax and light a bone
Straight from the Catacombs
The Children Of The Corn, that don`t got a clue
Prepare for desert storm!
[Chorus]

I scored 1.1 on my SAT
And still push a whip with a right and left AC
Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called
I`m behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars
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`

[Meth]
Yo`, all you gonna be, wanna be When will you learn?
Wanna 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 slept on since Rip Van Wink
My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc
So what you think? I`m a blackout on just one drink?
You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe
Go get a shrink...
[Chorus]

 

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