Released: September 28, 1999
Songwriter: Method Man Redman JAY-Z Ja Rule Irv Gotti Robert Mays
Producer: Redman
[Intro: Redman]
Man, he must've bumped his motherfucking head or something...
[Verse 1: Redman (Method Man)]
Yo!
M.C.'s out there, you betta stand clear
It's Funk Doc (M.E.TH) on da world premiere
From New Jerz straight talk, America's best
(Co' Island Staten Island is where I'm at)
Y'all amateurs act like hoes offendin' us
We're special ed-ers, doin' tours on banana bus
D.O., same M.O., drive through Bricks
Chicken shotty, the ass make me lie to my bitch
Word to god, Doc throw more lines than fishing rods
No stars, we're supergods non-recoupable (yo!)
Buttons is pressed to remove the press
Pressin' bullshit, my index press a full clip (YO!)
Set up cones when I'm firin' chrome
I'm hittin' ladies to old men in retirement homes
Dail 9-1-1, runnin' gun in the street dungeon
Earth, moons and stars checkin' out what the sun done
Suspects change clothes
Before I leave the heat, I put two in rain grove for my Range Rove
Hot to death, cops is vexed
I push a buck 60 if they try to block the Lex
Drive by on the baja
Snatch the Cartier watch I
Bounce laughin' off like Clue (Haha!)
Doc is like poppy, supplyin' you grams
So breaka breaka while I turn it to the Shaolin Man
[Verse 2: Method Man]
Forever underground
Nigga, duck the mic when we come around
Control hammer like the mighty Thor, bringin' thunder down
Now you're in store for predator
Like refugees, I come to settle score
Half-baked metaphor that taste even better raw
Hardcore holy war
Hits from the reservoir, southpaw saboteur
Land sharks get they chin checked when I jabba jaw
Time to walk my labrador
Livin' out my dreams, at the same time shatter yours
Code red, fill 'em full of lead
Grateful Dead, live from Hempstead
Tiger Kung Fu know the ledge
Check the full-fledged knucklehead
Clam bread, livin' on the edge, used to pee the bed
Jack Frost nippin' at your nose, get your Sudafed
Rap Cheech and Chong, me and Red official budda head
Off track like O.T.B., I'm too black
I'm like Zorro, I mark a Wu sign in your back, motherfucka
[Chorus]
(It ain't even a question) This side niggas too hardcore
(It ain't even a question) That side niggas too hardcore
(It ain't even a question) In the middle niggas too hardcore
So what cha, what cha, what cha, want (Whatcha want?)
(It ain't even a question) Def Squad niggas too hardcore
(It ain't even a question) Wu Tang niggas too hardcore
(It ain't even a question) Def Jam nigga too hardcore
(Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up) So what cha, what cha, what cha, want?
[Verse 3: Redman]
Yo, stomp with the big dogs
Sick dog lurkin'
Doc Bradshaw, behind ball plant and steel curtains
Denver Bronco fan, Glock squirtin'
Brick City, steering wheel hurtin'
Prepare y'all fast car for lane mergin'
Hasta manana, y'all crash like Diana, cock block into gramma
Got cock in Atlanta, rockin' P.P.P. bandanas
While we fuck 'em on camera
It's too late to plant bait for my click to fall
We dodge booby traps and pitfalls and thick fog
When I tee, LA ride, ("It's yours")
Websites couldn't find the Force with Macintosh
Or John Walsh, America's Most
Aim for spots that put more than a tear in your coat
[Verse 4: Method Man]
Uh huh, we speak for the unheard
Caught in the Matrix
Sound from the subbasement, "Spread the word"
Like incurables from dirty bird, beyond basic
John Woo these fake niggas, give 'em replacements
The thrilla from Park Hilla
Bubonic plague any M.C., that swear he iller
Inject the doofus with the lupus
Yukmouth rhyme that leave him toothless
My filled fly and filled groupless
Observe the record, livin' out my name, rep it
Study man and all his methods
And through that ethic, learn to expect the unexpected
One step ahead I, return like Jedi
Three hours behind your punk ass, catchin' a red eye
First class but cooler than coach, murder he wrote
On the wall in the bathroom stall, shittin' these quotes
"Fuck you all"
Scaredy cat kid, duckin' these dogs
You don't like us, then we don't like y'all
Lick The Balls!
Be easy, speak easy
This one be off the heazzzaaaayyy
Like my pubic hair, black and peazzzzzaaayyyy
[Chorus]
(It ain't even a question) x5
[Outro: Computer voice]
Caution...
Warning...
Overload...
System overload...
All systems ready...
Enter voice authorization sample...
Man, he must've bumped his motherfucking head or something...
[Verse 1: Redman (Method Man)]
Yo!
M.C.'s out there, you betta stand clear
It's Funk Doc (M.E.TH) on da world premiere
From New Jerz straight talk, America's best
(Co' Island Staten Island is where I'm at)
Y'all amateurs act like hoes offendin' us
We're special ed-ers, doin' tours on banana bus
D.O., same M.O., drive through Bricks
Chicken shotty, the ass make me lie to my bitch
Word to god, Doc throw more lines than fishing rods
No stars, we're supergods non-recoupable (yo!)
Buttons is pressed to remove the press
Pressin' bullshit, my index press a full clip (YO!)
Set up cones when I'm firin' chrome
I'm hittin' ladies to old men in retirement homes
Dail 9-1-1, runnin' gun in the street dungeon
Earth, moons and stars checkin' out what the sun done
Suspects change clothes
Before I leave the heat, I put two in rain grove for my Range Rove
Hot to death, cops is vexed
I push a buck 60 if they try to block the Lex
Drive by on the baja
Snatch the Cartier watch I
Bounce laughin' off like Clue (Haha!)
Doc is like poppy, supplyin' you grams
So breaka breaka while I turn it to the Shaolin Man
[Verse 2: Method Man]
Forever underground
Nigga, duck the mic when we come around
Control hammer like the mighty Thor, bringin' thunder down
Now you're in store for predator
Like refugees, I come to settle score
Half-baked metaphor that taste even better raw
Hardcore holy war
Hits from the reservoir, southpaw saboteur
Land sharks get they chin checked when I jabba jaw
Time to walk my labrador
Livin' out my dreams, at the same time shatter yours
Code red, fill 'em full of lead
Grateful Dead, live from Hempstead
Tiger Kung Fu know the ledge
Check the full-fledged knucklehead
Clam bread, livin' on the edge, used to pee the bed
Jack Frost nippin' at your nose, get your Sudafed
Rap Cheech and Chong, me and Red official budda head
Off track like O.T.B., I'm too black
I'm like Zorro, I mark a Wu sign in your back, motherfucka
[Chorus]
(It ain't even a question) This side niggas too hardcore
(It ain't even a question) That side niggas too hardcore
(It ain't even a question) In the middle niggas too hardcore
So what cha, what cha, what cha, want (Whatcha want?)
(It ain't even a question) Def Squad niggas too hardcore
(It ain't even a question) Wu Tang niggas too hardcore
(It ain't even a question) Def Jam nigga too hardcore
(Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up) So what cha, what cha, what cha, want?
[Verse 3: Redman]
Yo, stomp with the big dogs
Sick dog lurkin'
Doc Bradshaw, behind ball plant and steel curtains
Denver Bronco fan, Glock squirtin'
Brick City, steering wheel hurtin'
Prepare y'all fast car for lane mergin'
Hasta manana, y'all crash like Diana, cock block into gramma
Got cock in Atlanta, rockin' P.P.P. bandanas
While we fuck 'em on camera
It's too late to plant bait for my click to fall
We dodge booby traps and pitfalls and thick fog
When I tee, LA ride, ("It's yours")
Websites couldn't find the Force with Macintosh
Or John Walsh, America's Most
Aim for spots that put more than a tear in your coat
[Verse 4: Method Man]
Uh huh, we speak for the unheard
Caught in the Matrix
Sound from the subbasement, "Spread the word"
Like incurables from dirty bird, beyond basic
John Woo these fake niggas, give 'em replacements
The thrilla from Park Hilla
Bubonic plague any M.C., that swear he iller
Inject the doofus with the lupus
Yukmouth rhyme that leave him toothless
My filled fly and filled groupless
Observe the record, livin' out my name, rep it
Study man and all his methods
And through that ethic, learn to expect the unexpected
One step ahead I, return like Jedi
Three hours behind your punk ass, catchin' a red eye
First class but cooler than coach, murder he wrote
On the wall in the bathroom stall, shittin' these quotes
"Fuck you all"
Scaredy cat kid, duckin' these dogs
You don't like us, then we don't like y'all
Lick The Balls!
Be easy, speak easy
This one be off the heazzzaaaayyy
Like my pubic hair, black and peazzzzzaaayyyy
[Chorus]
(It ain't even a question) x5
[Outro: Computer voice]
Caution...
Warning...
Overload...
System overload...
All systems ready...
Enter voice authorization sample...