Crooked Letter I - Album Version (Explicit) Lyrics
| Song | Crooked Letter I - Album Version (Explicit) |
| Artist | Method Man |
| Artist | YoungStar |
| Album | Tical 0: The Prequel |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Clifford Smith & Denaun Porter & Michael Chavarria & Patrick Charles | |
| 作词 : Chavarria, Porter, Smith | |
| Ooooh! We have returned | |
| Yeah, show you how to flow again (show you how to flow again) | |
| It's the rap rule again (hehehehe) Yo, yo.. | |
| [Streetlife] (Method Man) | |
| Street, Meth, we ride like A.C. and O.J. (y'all niggaz crazy!) | |
| I runs up on you in broad days, I'm a Loose Link | |
| I carry's the Heaterz, always | |
| Small timers, get left for dead in the hallways | |
| It's that ill breed, move in warp speed, follow my lead | |
| (Me and my Co-D's, about to O.D.) let me procede | |
| I'm that O.G., you're not in my league (you know my steez) | |
| I put the smackdown, on you killer clown M.C.'s | |
| [Method Man] (Streetlife) | |
| I rock for all my niggaz (I rock for all my niggaz) | |
| That's why I hurt to be here, okay, let me see here | |
| Stat' Land, crooked letter is I, we back, man | |
| Harder than a dick on viagra gettin' a lap dance | |
| Hittin' like a back hand (I slap y'all kids) | |
| As if we in a game of spades, and y'all renig' | |
| John Blaze, not the clothing, cuz some of that is slum | |
| (Son, I'm already knowin') cut they jeans mad young | |
| [Chorus 2X: Kon Artis] | |
| In the Crooked Letter I, it's do or die | |
| Shit, every man fights to stay alive | |
| In the Crooked Letter I, you should not try | |
| Meth Tical, Streetlife, Killa Bee, why.. | |
| [Method Man] (Streetlife) | |
| Stingy with my dough, even stingier with dojia' | |
| (Told y'all) You'll never go broke, long as I yo'ya | |
| Maintain your composure, or party over | |
| For stank bitches, who get it, twisted like yoga | |
| Holla for a dollar, yea, and y'all ain't gotta go home | |
| (But y'all gotta get the **** outta here) | |
| Who stay "Lo" like Jennifer, won't see me a lot | |
| But when you see Vivica, tell her she a "Fox" | |
| [Streetlife] (Method Man) | |
| We rollin', big truck, sittin' on chrome (twistin' a bone) | |
| Talkin' to a bird on the bat phone | |
| Zonin', out the area, roamin' | |
| The closest you could come to my style, maybe, is clonin' | |
| The omen (I'm warnin' you now!) Niggaz is holdin' | |
| Run up, watch me put one up in your colon | |
| Chizzle town, thugs in the club, like chicks posin' | |
| Lambchop niggaz is sheep in wolf clothing | |
| [Chorus 2X] | |
| [Streetlife] (Method Man) | |
| Beware, danger, shoot off your flares | |
| Warn all your dogs (tell 'em we here) | |
| The Stat' (we don't bust our guns in the air) | |
| Never that, y'all don't come out til the coast is clear | |
| (Who you suppose to fear) Street, I fears no one | |
| You all thumbs, I probably murder you with your gun | |
| When I start lettin' off (niggaz is jettin' off) | |
| You straight chicken broth, we holes in your terrycloth | |
| [Method Man] | |
| Double O, 3, long time no see | |
| Who mind parts seas, and cause blind to see | |
| Some think this industry is just all rhyme and G | |
| Then he make it to the door, and he can't find the key | |
| Don't know what it be, to make y'all follow my lead | |
| Or make this pretty thing on her knees swallow my seed | |
| If rap wasn't rap no more, what would it be | |
| I don't know, I'd be zonin' sometime, must be the weed... that's that shit | |
| [Chorus to fade] | |
| [Outro: Streetlife (Method Man)] | |
| Yeah, Homicide Housing, Loose Linx | |
| Carlton Fisk, D.C., rest in peace | |
| To the Million Dollar Kid, Y | |
| (S.I., N.Y., 10304) Sick eyes, Size 7 | |
| Big Nut, what up (Big up to Denaun, good lookin' on the track, nigga | |
| Matter fact, I'mma call Staten Island the tri-borough, now on | |
| Cuz we'll "tri" any ****in' thing) Homicide Housing.. | |
| (**** y'all) |
| zuo qu : Clifford Smith Denaun Porter Michael Chavarria Patrick Charles | |
| zuo ci : Chavarria, Porter, Smith | |
| Ooooh! We have returned | |
| Yeah, show you how to flow again show you how to flow again | |
| It' s the rap rule again hehehehe Yo, yo.. | |
| Streetlife Method Man | |
| Street, Meth, we ride like A. C. and O. J. y' all niggaz crazy! | |
| I runs up on you in broad days, I' m a Loose Link | |
| I carry' s the Heaterz, always | |
| Small timers, get left for dead in the hallways | |
| It' s that ill breed, move in warp speed, follow my lead | |
| Me and my CoD' s, about to O. D. let me procede | |
| I' m that O. G., you' re not in my league you know my steez | |
| I put the smackdown, on you killer clown M. C.' s | |
| Method Man Streetlife | |
| I rock for all my niggaz I rock for all my niggaz | |
| That' s why I hurt to be here, okay, let me see here | |
| Stat' Land, crooked letter is I, we back, man | |
| Harder than a dick on viagra gettin' a lap dance | |
| Hittin' like a back hand I slap y' all kids | |
| As if we in a game of spades, and y' all renig' | |
| John Blaze, not the clothing, cuz some of that is slum | |
| Son, I' m already knowin' cut they jeans mad young | |
| Chorus 2X: Kon Artis | |
| In the Crooked Letter I, it' s do or die | |
| Shit, every man fights to stay alive | |
| In the Crooked Letter I, you should not try | |
| Meth Tical, Streetlife, Killa Bee, why.. | |
| Method Man Streetlife | |
| Stingy with my dough, even stingier with dojia' | |
| Told y' all You' ll never go broke, long as I yo' ya | |
| Maintain your composure, or party over | |
| For stank bitches, who get it, twisted like yoga | |
| Holla for a dollar, yea, and y' all ain' t gotta go home | |
| But y' all gotta get the outta here | |
| Who stay " Lo" like Jennifer, won' t see me a lot | |
| But when you see Vivica, tell her she a " Fox" | |
| Streetlife Method Man | |
| We rollin', big truck, sittin' on chrome twistin' a bone | |
| Talkin' to a bird on the bat phone | |
| Zonin', out the area, roamin' | |
| The closest you could come to my style, maybe, is clonin' | |
| The omen I' m warnin' you now! Niggaz is holdin' | |
| Run up, watch me put one up in your colon | |
| Chizzle town, thugs in the club, like chicks posin' | |
| Lambchop niggaz is sheep in wolf clothing | |
| Chorus 2X | |
| Streetlife Method Man | |
| Beware, danger, shoot off your flares | |
| Warn all your dogs tell ' em we here | |
| The Stat' we don' t bust our guns in the air | |
| Never that, y' all don' t come out til the coast is clear | |
| Who you suppose to fear Street, I fears no one | |
| You all thumbs, I probably murder you with your gun | |
| When I start lettin' off niggaz is jettin' off | |
| You straight chicken broth, we holes in your terrycloth | |
| Method Man | |
| Double O, 3, long time no see | |
| Who mind parts seas, and cause blind to see | |
| Some think this industry is just all rhyme and G | |
| Then he make it to the door, and he can' t find the key | |
| Don' t know what it be, to make y' all follow my lead | |
| Or make this pretty thing on her knees swallow my seed | |
| If rap wasn' t rap no more, what would it be | |
| I don' t know, I' d be zonin' sometime, must be the weed... that' s that shit | |
| Chorus to fade | |
| Outro: Streetlife Method Man | |
| Yeah, Homicide Housing, Loose Linx | |
| Carlton Fisk, D. C., rest in peace | |
| To the Million Dollar Kid, Y | |
| S. I., N. Y., 10304 Sick eyes, Size 7 | |
| Big Nut, what up Big up to Denaun, good lookin' on the track, nigga | |
| Matter fact, I' mma call Staten Island the triborough, now on | |
| Cuz we' ll " tri" any in' thing Homicide Housing.. | |
| y' all |
| zuò qǔ : Clifford Smith Denaun Porter Michael Chavarria Patrick Charles | |
| zuò cí : Chavarria, Porter, Smith | |
| Ooooh! We have returned | |
| Yeah, show you how to flow again show you how to flow again | |
| It' s the rap rule again hehehehe Yo, yo.. | |
| Streetlife Method Man | |
| Street, Meth, we ride like A. C. and O. J. y' all niggaz crazy! | |
| I runs up on you in broad days, I' m a Loose Link | |
| I carry' s the Heaterz, always | |
| Small timers, get left for dead in the hallways | |
| It' s that ill breed, move in warp speed, follow my lead | |
| Me and my CoD' s, about to O. D. let me procede | |
| I' m that O. G., you' re not in my league you know my steez | |
| I put the smackdown, on you killer clown M. C.' s | |
| Method Man Streetlife | |
| I rock for all my niggaz I rock for all my niggaz | |
| That' s why I hurt to be here, okay, let me see here | |
| Stat' Land, crooked letter is I, we back, man | |
| Harder than a dick on viagra gettin' a lap dance | |
| Hittin' like a back hand I slap y' all kids | |
| As if we in a game of spades, and y' all renig' | |
| John Blaze, not the clothing, cuz some of that is slum | |
| Son, I' m already knowin' cut they jeans mad young | |
| Chorus 2X: Kon Artis | |
| In the Crooked Letter I, it' s do or die | |
| Shit, every man fights to stay alive | |
| In the Crooked Letter I, you should not try | |
| Meth Tical, Streetlife, Killa Bee, why.. | |
| Method Man Streetlife | |
| Stingy with my dough, even stingier with dojia' | |
| Told y' all You' ll never go broke, long as I yo' ya | |
| Maintain your composure, or party over | |
| For stank bitches, who get it, twisted like yoga | |
| Holla for a dollar, yea, and y' all ain' t gotta go home | |
| But y' all gotta get the outta here | |
| Who stay " Lo" like Jennifer, won' t see me a lot | |
| But when you see Vivica, tell her she a " Fox" | |
| Streetlife Method Man | |
| We rollin', big truck, sittin' on chrome twistin' a bone | |
| Talkin' to a bird on the bat phone | |
| Zonin', out the area, roamin' | |
| The closest you could come to my style, maybe, is clonin' | |
| The omen I' m warnin' you now! Niggaz is holdin' | |
| Run up, watch me put one up in your colon | |
| Chizzle town, thugs in the club, like chicks posin' | |
| Lambchop niggaz is sheep in wolf clothing | |
| Chorus 2X | |
| Streetlife Method Man | |
| Beware, danger, shoot off your flares | |
| Warn all your dogs tell ' em we here | |
| The Stat' we don' t bust our guns in the air | |
| Never that, y' all don' t come out til the coast is clear | |
| Who you suppose to fear Street, I fears no one | |
| You all thumbs, I probably murder you with your gun | |
| When I start lettin' off niggaz is jettin' off | |
| You straight chicken broth, we holes in your terrycloth | |
| Method Man | |
| Double O, 3, long time no see | |
| Who mind parts seas, and cause blind to see | |
| Some think this industry is just all rhyme and G | |
| Then he make it to the door, and he can' t find the key | |
| Don' t know what it be, to make y' all follow my lead | |
| Or make this pretty thing on her knees swallow my seed | |
| If rap wasn' t rap no more, what would it be | |
| I don' t know, I' d be zonin' sometime, must be the weed... that' s that shit | |
| Chorus to fade | |
| Outro: Streetlife Method Man | |
| Yeah, Homicide Housing, Loose Linx | |
| Carlton Fisk, D. C., rest in peace | |
| To the Million Dollar Kid, Y | |
| S. I., N. Y., 10304 Sick eyes, Size 7 | |
| Big Nut, what up Big up to Denaun, good lookin' on the track, nigga | |
| Matter fact, I' mma call Staten Island the triborough, now on | |
| Cuz we' ll " tri" any in' thing Homicide Housing.. | |
| y' all |
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