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| Lyrics Submitted By: Paul |
| Suspect chin niggas, no win niggas |
| send niggas back to go, try again niggas |
| all hail me, the good the bag the ugly |
| the money's around your way, lovely |
| where for art thou Meth-tical god-child |
| I pack a smile like crocodile profile |
| can't hold it down? oh the shit gon' hit the fan now |
| spin around let your whole crown man down, man down |
| [Street Life] |
| I live by the street code never old |
| never love a hoe, never flash the dough |
| cause you never know who friend or foe |
| got block control solid gold thought |
| before the blow lets stroll through the ghetto |
| habitat with no parole |
| never snitch switch which |
| keep a fresh pair of kicks |
| split the tongue snatch the weed |
| in case the cops wanna strip search |
| think first prepare for the worst |
| when you do dirt |
| remember there's a million hungry niggas with the same thirst |
| [Method Man] |
| No doubt dummy out |
| bets pull the money out |
| niggas walk a funny route |
| this is what its all about? |
| young guns and dum-dums |
| slum bums and sons |
| askin' niggas where they come from |
| get him for his one, um |
| sunshine, its crunch time |
| stranded on the front line |
| ducking from the one-time |
| niggas on the run, where the cameras can't come, ha |
| make this one the anthem |
| ring around the rosy |
| pocket full of Grants, uh |
| [Street Life] |
| Just because you wild in the club you ain't thug |
| sport gloves and gold mugs you ain't thug |
| tattoos and hard screws don't make you thug |
| sucker for love catch a slug, nigga |
| [Method Man] |
| Suspect chin niggas, no win niggas |
| send niggas back to go, try again niggas |
| shotgun slammin' in your chest piece, blow |
| shotgun slammin' in your chest piece, blow |
| [Street Life] |
| Carry your eyes and avoid spots |
| cellblocks rap blow you for your slide |
| time what you gots mine |
| we can take it to the yellow lines and we can pull nine |
| whether the rhyme or the crime I'ma still shine |
| heavy on the street talk cut your life support short |
| never had no love for you so there is no love lost |
| strictly enforced by the street stories get double crossed |
| hands off I run with the torch |
| [Method Man] |
| They got me fed up from the head up |
| put up or shut up |
| on stage in them shiny get-up |
| these niggas is funny |
| energizer bunny actors |
| they hustle backwards |
| son I think they gay rappers |
| say word, drop some stature |
| dog splash ya, party crash ya |
| the spell casta |
| heard the same before and after its over |
| flood get your brain end the game, dun its over |
| end of the line out of time bitch its over |
| on the wrong street with no heat he was sober |
| we soldiers somebody should've told ya |
| [Street Life] |
| Million dollar ice on your wrist don't make you thug |
| cause a bitch is sucking your dick on your skit you ain't thug |
| bandanas and bad grammar don't make you thug |
| sucker for love catching slugs nigga |
| [Method Man] |
| Suspect chin niggas, no win niggas |
| send niggas back to go, try again niggas |
| shotgun slammin' in your chest piece, blow |
| shotgun slammin' in your chest piece, blow |
| Suspect chin niggas, no win niggas |
| send niggas back to go, try again niggas |
| shotgun slammin' in your chest piece, blow |
| shotgun slammin' in your chest piece, blow |
| [Street Life] |
| With the W burning through your flesh |
| verbally possessed never second guess |
| blow minds like David Koresh |
| fuck a vest you need a gun to protect your assets |
| deep in the Aztecs break out before the sun set |
| street wars gimme yours crime is what I live for |
| got rhymes galore next time its at the wu store |
| if you sleep late, next date is at the cest gate |
| all you sober mcs, I leave y'all niggas half-baked |
| [Method Man] |
| Microphone is in a choke hold |
| losin' control bringing drama by the boatload |
| it takes drama |
| in the pillage now of cappadonna |
| my split persona hit their village and their baby mama |
| y'all niggas playing with this money while we stay hungry |
| and kept it pudgy it won't make me have to crash, dummy |
| before its over |
| you should keep your chain tucked in |
| and should never run your mouth with a suspect chin |
| now lay it down |
| [Street Life] |
| Just because you wild in the club you ain't thug |
| sport gloves and gold mugs you ain't thug |
| tattoos and hard screws you ain't thug |
| real thugs runnin' with hate and smash love |
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