Lyric Blackout
[Redman]
It s Funk Doc
Where da weed at, bitch?!
I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops
See thas shit?! Believe thas shit!
Slaughter straight to camcorder, I m too hot for t.v.
Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to
Project-ballers
You yell: "Turn the heat down!"
My voice, divi-di-round-sound,
some heard round town
And chances are ya ll leavin , round now
Wait later, will make Funk page paper
Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders
Hit the High School at 187 Caesar
When I bust ya ll need to back 4 acres
Doc ya ll and that s my man JabberJaw
The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?
I m from the underground, my soundlib
Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!
[Chorus]:
Meth & Red
GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP
JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
Yo BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE OUT,
EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA LL FEEL IT!
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
[Meth]
Now I m the streettalkin , dogwalkin
Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN ?
My hand that rock yo cradle often I m hot-scorchin ,
but stone cold like Steve Austin
If you smell what Tical cookin ,
ain t tryin to see central bookin
So til ya gon stop lookin , know what you did last
summer?
So I started hookin , you past shookin
Offer open can of ass-whoopin ?
Ain t no tomorrow s in the Method s Little Shop Of
Horrors
Go ask your father who the father from the (Park)Hill
to (Mariners)Harbor
You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and Goldschlager
With deadly medley, ya ll ain t ready for Shakwon and
Reggie
Don t even bother, to radio for back-up
Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for his
icin
Streetlife is triflin *Body over here...!
Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga ear
Precisin , slicin juggerless the cut-crew
Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera
People s champ, niggaz be takin off competetors
Reachin for the microphone, relax and light a bone
Straight from the Catacombs
The Children Of The Corn, that don t got a clue
Prepare for desert storm!
[Chorus]
I scored 1.1 on my SAT
And still push a whip with a right and left AC
Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called
I m behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars
Spit poison, got a gun permit draw
Gundown at Sundown you keep score!
This training-course and ya ll ain t fit
On my crew-tombstone put We All Ain t Shit
[Meth]
Yo , all you gonna be, wanna be When will you learn?
Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn
I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year s Eve
With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c. s
The most slept on since Rip Van Wink
My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc
So what you think? I m a blackout on just one drink?
You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe
Go get a shrink...
[Chorus]
It s Funk Doc
Where da weed at, bitch?!
I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops
See thas shit?! Believe thas shit!
Slaughter straight to camcorder, I m too hot for t.v.
Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to
Project-ballers
You yell: "Turn the heat down!"
My voice, divi-di-round-sound,
some heard round town
And chances are ya ll leavin , round now
Wait later, will make Funk page paper
Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders
Hit the High School at 187 Caesar
When I bust ya ll need to back 4 acres
Doc ya ll and that s my man JabberJaw
The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?
I m from the underground, my soundlib
Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!
[Chorus]:
Meth & Red
GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP
JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
Yo BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE OUT,
EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA LL FEEL IT!
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
Brrrrr...STICK EM, HA-HAHA STICK EM
[Meth]
Now I m the streettalkin , dogwalkin
Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN ?
My hand that rock yo cradle often I m hot-scorchin ,
but stone cold like Steve Austin
If you smell what Tical cookin ,
ain t tryin to see central bookin
So til ya gon stop lookin , know what you did last
summer?
So I started hookin , you past shookin
Offer open can of ass-whoopin ?
Ain t no tomorrow s in the Method s Little Shop Of
Horrors
Go ask your father who the father from the (Park)Hill
to (Mariners)Harbor
You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and Goldschlager
With deadly medley, ya ll ain t ready for Shakwon and
Reggie
Don t even bother, to radio for back-up
Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for his
icin
Streetlife is triflin *Body over here...!
Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga ear
Precisin , slicin juggerless the cut-crew
Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera
People s champ, niggaz be takin off competetors
Reachin for the microphone, relax and light a bone
Straight from the Catacombs
The Children Of The Corn, that don t got a clue
Prepare for desert storm!
[Chorus]
I scored 1.1 on my SAT
And still push a whip with a right and left AC
Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called
I m behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars
Spit poison, got a gun permit draw
Gundown at Sundown you keep score!
This training-course and ya ll ain t fit
On my crew-tombstone put We All Ain t Shit
[Meth]
Yo , all you gonna be, wanna be When will you learn?
Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn
I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year s Eve
With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c. s
The most slept on since Rip Van Wink
My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc
So what you think? I m a blackout on just one drink?
You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe
Go get a shrink...
[Chorus]
