Biscuits Lyrics by Method Man
Yo mama don't wear no drawers!
I saw her when she took them off!
Standin' on the welfare line
Eating swine tryin' to look fine, with her stank behind
You can ask the bitch and she'll tell ya fast
Meth-Tical got style with his nasty ass
Are you ready, to face the consenquences and suffer?
I even tell ya momma you ain't shit, motherfucker
Bring it, and let that killer bee kid sting it
And rep-resent, it's like heads up a brick, when I swing it
Get lost, I break you off something
I'm pumpin', like a Reebok, with a pump, from the jump and
You was nothin'
Bet ya thought ya fuckin' clan had ya back but they was frontin'
Smokin' dirt blunts and fuckin' nasty stunts and
Ya take the naked gun without the bullet, what ya bustin'
Get ya ship sunken, fuckin' with a drunken
Master disaster at any rap functions
Who said the Wu-Tang Clan? Was it you or your man?
You wanna point the finger, I'll bring ya
36 chambers, be out, youze in danger
Let me pull ya brain outcha ass with a hanger
Didn't momma not tell ya not to talk to a stranger
Now ya got ya neck, in the noose, of the strangler
Just recline, keep the Meth in mind
I'll even test the knuckle check on the hands of time
What? And I'll be more than glad to bust that ass
All up and down the block, the street, that ave
Whatever, smokin' on a Spike Lee joint
Hey I'm Mo' Better, I'm hopin' niggas get the point
Cause they could never, stop the veteran, word to God
When I'm severin' the HEAD of a mental vegetarian
The Method, at the weekend, with a whole lot of credit
The cuties I desire, I be the first to set it
Off, flame on like the Human Torch
Fantastic Four for all the fans in the store
You can eat it all and it'll tell ya fast
Meth-Tical got STYLE for ya nasty ass
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
SMITH, CLIFFORD / DIGGS, ROBERT F.
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Alternate spellings: Jonell Method Man, method man redman.
Method Man Biscuits Lyrics