Method Man and Raekwon - Meth vs. Chef

You is worthy of a general
If you want to fight, fight with me!
One to one! Man to man!

Get ready to gel team!
Live and direct from the one-six-ooh
We got Tical, pow! Raekwon the Chef, Tical!
It's about to go on, Tical
You make the call, I make the call
It's all for all
Method Man, Raekwon the Chef
(count my shells)
And there's about to be one left
(count my shells, nigga)
I know you know it's on kid
(Bring that shit I don't give a fuck!)

Who lit that shit it was I the chinky-eye
Chiba-hawk from New York, Tical Staten Isle
Niggas thought, that they could walk a dog but they caught
A bad situation, cause I'm a sandwich short
Of a picnic, cause you ain't equipped with the sickening
Style, blowing up the spot like ballistic
Missiles, I be comin through like the four-nine-three-eleven
Tearing up the power-u, Meth-Tical
A bad motherfucking buddah monk, what the fuck
Hit your chest, like cardiac arrest, blow the front
Out the frame, hit the pussycat for the pain
Of the dog shit, nobody move run your garments
A rugged vet, terrible like a Champion sweat
Wrap a power in a tec, to wet
A nigga up, with all the dangerous diseases
Sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head fever
Fucker, I think it's bout time that you suffer
Bobbing on my knob like an all day sucker
Bitch!

Meth Vs. Chef
Meth Vs. Chef (Let's bring this shit)
Meth Vs. Chef (Yeah, one more time!)
Meth Vs. Chef
I blow your fuckin ass to death

I'm goin all out kid no turnbacks
You could try to front, get smoked and that's that
Lyric assassin, dressed in black rugged
Sixteen shots to your mug, from a slug then
I go to war in a concrete jungle, making bundles
Niggas act funny, and fumble
But I relax, count my shells, a lot of heads gotta fly
Niggas stay strapped, armed to die
Time for jet-black Tim boot, flowin
Wha-Su God get him, hit em with the nine troop
No question, cha-cha-BOW in the session
Bloodshot in that direction, cypher
Attack you like chess moves best move
Yo, yeah, yo
The boards, your ass
'Tack, 'tack, 'tack, uh!
Attack the boards like chess moves, best move
At Rae through, comin at your motherfuckin crew
Live direct, yeah you better step
Gunshots ring on the set
Let's jet - motivate, to the gate
With some quick high Rae stay fly, and rob your Isle
Airwaves, yo behave
Now you're a slave with the boots that paved the way

Written by:
CLIFFORD SMITH, COREY WOODS, ROBERT F. DIGGS

Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Downtown Music Publishing

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