Redbull (feat. Redman, Method Man, Inspectah Deck, Ghostface Killah & Raekwon)

RZA came and got me, this what I came to do, come on

Ring the bell so it's time to eat

Brick Dog stash weed inta AMI-seats, bomb inside the palm

Doc rock a wife beater with me beatin' my wife ass ironed on

The front, my pump built like the Klumps

To carry it I take the spare out the trunk

I stay hungry, I ain't worked for days

That's why you see the pump when the curtains raise

Blast, don't panic

Do I gotta explain how I tame and lock

The rap game single-handed? Hell nah

I won't tell you son, if I find a wack ID, I sell you one

Doc and Hot Nick, Inspectah

My lecture's like Hannibal Lector's

Where's the ketchup? Don't speak on it, shut ya trap

I see ya whole crew yellow like mustard packs

Ah woo, Doc in my own zone

You say you got the rap games sewn

But it's sewn wrong

I ride through ya hood in a Mr. Softee truck

Then pull a mac out a box of snow cones

Yeah, ya little fucks

Gimme ya fuckin' money

Uhuh, check it

I'm hotter than a hundred degrees with my coat on

Playing with a dynamite stick, where did I go wrong?

Somebody pull the fire along when Jonny stomp

If ya lukewarm leavin' ya clothes and boots torn

Pro's and con's, megabomb's and so-on's

By arid actions try MC's to get their roll on

First issue, got issues

What is hip-hop to hot nickels?

It's like Funk Doc to snot tissues, word

Look at my hand and get the third

Finger out ya ear hole like "Fuck what you heard"

Now, that's what I call hardcore, let's act fool

Mr. Fix-It like Handyman I pack tool

I been shitty, I'm from the veils of the city

And just because my outfit match don't make me pretty

Baggy Dun Gurees, dick need room to breathe

In a room full of crackers I might cut the cheese

Ain't no rules to the game

If it is we ain't playin'

In your business like EPMD, "So whatcha sayin'?"

You co-designin' that bullshit yo man tryin'

Chaka chaka cha-ta tatat

Slugs flyin'

Yo, ya

Check, the code echoes from magazines to the big screen

Fo' wheel machines like ya wits scream, kids fiend

From the urban to sub-urban

Roll upon me thirstin' like "Hey, hey, Mister Dream-Merchant"

We roll longer than dice in a casino

Cee-lo in the 4, 5 or 6 with double 0

Behind the tinted windows I lie low

On some hydro tryin' to slide from the 5-0

But now, get wild similar to Ol' Dirty

On third time felon just hit with over 30

No worries, style have 'em so thirsty

First degree heats are quittin' on me

Cold turkey, no mercy

I bring the pain of a hundred migraines

But a thousand shoutin' my name that's why I came

But first bring the cash burst, then the outburst

My surround sound pound ya ear like Jevon Kearse

I flex muscle outside I find a next hustle

Trouble with ya here and face the tec-muscle

Even the best buckle win, I take it to the extreme

It gets ugly, but it's what a nigga do to get cream

This life