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Correct Intelligent Meth Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: M
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Method Man
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Correct Intelligent Meth
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Lyrics:
[Intro: iNTeLL] Yeah, yeah A-yo, a-yo The I-N-T-E-double-L [Verse 1: iNTeLL] It’s like I’m trapped inside a cage I can’t explain this type of rage It’s not a moment or a phase But possibly the end of days Watch as I stand up on the stage Not as an artist but a slave Deep inside my subconscious My music keeping me sane They say it’s levels to the shit, I say it’s levels to your brain You can’t acquire the higher, you’ll always remain the same Regardless of all the money and bitches yanking your chain What good is a private plane to a man who can’t walk the plains Hip-hop is now gen-pop, populated with lames Attacking you with these frequencies meant to destroy your brain I’m fitting to go supernova expose em to super-flames Soon as I pick these locks on these psychological chains The answer is in the question the question comes from the pain And the pain is just electrical signals sent to my brain But the brain is just a box where information remains As I try to remain a soldier, the voice in my head explains [Verse 2: Method Man] I’m still shadowboxing lungs and oxygen This an icebreaker, no bubblegum was popping Another hot concoction trick, ya might need amoxicillin The kid’s too sick, you're gonna need shots to kill em My method is ill, Doc admit him When I see you, ICU can get em Your boy give em bars until the judge acquit him The court can’t convict him or find the gloves to fit him That’s OJ, I mean OK, I mean, I’m not kidding, no play Jealous ones still envy, that’s Jose Peace to Cartagena, I flow hey But I don’t speak Spanish, yo no se I’m a seasoned veteran, obey Obtain a freestyle, it’s cold pay The old me, resort to my old ways My old man was stuck in his old days Still he wanna blaze like John but rapping ain’t in his forte [Hook: Method Man] Look how we did it to ya Y’all just don’t get it do you? Special deliver to ya This is how we give it to you I'mma get it to ya (x4) What rapper spit it truer? But they don’t live it, do ya? My shooter cock the Ruger This is how we get it to you I'mma get it to ya (RAW) I'mma get it to ya(RAW) I'mma get it to ya (RAW) I'mma get it to ya (RAW) [Verse 3: Masta Killa] It was only the elite who could walk these streets With jewels and not get stuck, niggas didn’t give a fuck Real G’s know I’m talking about Taking what you making, stripping what you wearing Caring about nothing Gun barrel in your face, cold steel on your cheek This is how we meet and greet, enemy across the street Leaning on his Rover jeeps, smiling, showing all our teeth Seeking son in my hood, it ain’t all sweet And you haven’t earned the respect Of those who come, creep and take money So you just food that niggas come eat And they don’t get no chain back You might see em rocking that Fuck you looking at? Problem needs solving You see that big 357 thing revolving…revolving [Verse 4: Streetlife] Yeah, you niggas ain’t street, my money talks word of mouth I figured you out the life I live, you’re not about Price on your head, I’m taking cash advances I’ll take my chances, then deal with the circumstances Livin’ off the land like a land shark I’m on the lamb like the gyro with the white sauce Idle times a devil playground, make moves Watch me kill your whole vibes, crush groove Hands high, say hello to my little friend Point the finger at the bad guy, it’s me again Who are they to criticize me? I do it like a G I’m a nigga from the motherfucking streets Throw me in the fire, watch me bubble I was built for the struggle, my knees never buckle [Hook: Method Man] Look how we did it to ya Y’all just don’t get it do you? Special deliver to ya This is how we give it to you I'mma get it to ya (x4) What rapper spit it truer? But they don’t live it, do ya? My shooter cock the Ruger This is how we get it to you I'mma get it to ya (RAW) I'mma get it to ya (RAW) I'mma get it to ya (RAW) I'mma get it to ya (RAW)
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