Father’s Day Songtext
von Method Man & Redman

I wanna deal with a bigger asshole
The streets, it′s coming down hard
We got to get our shit together
We always had music, eating off the game

Like you was never gon' run dry, that ain′t no business
No other game is run so disorganized
Look around you, every hood that's taking care of business
Is together, dig it, tight?

I can't spend my life running away
For what it′s worth, how much dirt can I get done in a day?
I got, clip in the AK., a blunt in the tray
I′m a beast, fuck the police, N.W.A.

Ya'll play this game that the hustler′s play
And if you dress in the metrosexual way
Then muthafucka you gay
Y'all can save this drama for Kay Slay


Like who′s fucking my chick
Or writing books about sucking my dick
Now I don't give a fuck what they say ′cause once I put on my cool
They see my life and wanna put on my shoes

Top of the world, ma look at your dude
I dig a chick with a attitude
But I don't let her cook up my food
It's like these young niggas hugging the strip

Who got the power to move bricks and buildings
Never loving the bitch, stripping with game
Y′all can guzzle a sip, ain′t nothing change
My niggas is off the chain and we don't muscle the pit

Can I get a [Incomprehensible]? Ayo, this bounce right here
For all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight

Soon as I, pick up my pen, I begin my flow
I close my eyes then write rhymes in a blackout mode
My Uzi, weigh over a ton, CD plays over
I do my crime with baking soda, with no odor

Pull out like boat motor streams, crack your shoulder wing
Def Squad decoder ring, psychopath bordering
My dog′s shitting on your lawn while you watering
Pay the fine, order him to shit on your lawn again


D.O.C. get it, C.O.D. my hood
P.O.P. nigga, N.J. deep baby
Jersey state of mind, Method Man, lock 'em in
Ya′ll niggas give a fuck, punk, we the opposite, yup

I hear you gossiping, 'cause we on
Just because I rock, don′t mean I'm made of stone
My bones is sturdy, I wake up to get it early
When I bully the streets, my Co-D is Keith Murray

In a hurry, back down, the boy roll with us
This how it sound when the voice is transmitted
Bricks to Staten Island, where babies turn into killers
That's why my Cadillac bear more arms than caterpillars, let′s get it

Can I get a [Incomprehensible]? Ayo, this bounce right here
For all my Wu-Tang muthafuckas in the house, tonight