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    METHOD MAN

    Tical 2000: Judgement Day 1998 ©

    Dangerous Grounds

    Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yea yo
    Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
    All them real live motherfuckin niggaz step up front right now
    It's goin down
    One love to Long Island Hempstead in my heart baby
    Shaolin what?
    Come on, come on, HA!

    Dangerous ground
    Tre pound seven spin around for my bredren the clouds come down
    War and peace, I take it to the street
    Land sharp on my lawn chop the thumbs off a thief
    And curse his first born, is this thing on?
    Send 'em to the children of the corn we the people
    See, niggaz through the eye of the demon
    My lethal injection, destroyin evil
    Hot Nikkel, private eye one pistol
    Aimin at your brain tissue, do or die
    Said the spider to the fly "Could this one be tasty"
    Like momma apple pie goodness, Johnny Blaze me
    On the job like Dick Tracy
    Hit the cure for that ill shit like Ben Casey, M.D.
    Symbolic thrill like god he shocked it
    Like a finger in a light socket, too good to be forgotten
    In the rotten apple
    I kick dirt on the sand castle
    Check the flavor all natural

    (Beat your feet)
    Hot Niks son
    (E-mizer)
    Before you get the main course
    (Taste a appetizer)

    Submerged in the word
    Heavy headed verbal
    Smack you, mentally disturb you attack you
    Thirty-six chamb once again comin at you
    Young gun got the body snatch you observe
    Yo eyes work you can only see through the third
    Eyeball baby I'm the norm on the bird
    To shine on mental nourishment, you can dine on
    Track yellin at me get yo arrow god
    Victory is hard
    Regardless to whom or what
    They all get retard it's a law
    Runnin through a house and your block party, we wreck-tion
    And Hot rock the body body, St. Bernards
    Couldn't save your enterrage plat lobotamy
    Leave ya mentally scarred, numb and possibly
    Dumb deaf and blind is it
    I keep your spine out the battery pack spark it with mine keep it movin

    Now everybody just throw your hands in the......
    What the fuck?
    Peace - who this?


    Mind detect mind
    A P.L.O. da startin line
    Deep Space Nine
    Designed for knuckleheads who bust guns and throw signs
    Let's converse snatch the tap from your purse
    Body-surf on the verse head first
    Peeped your feet bitch straight beat you know wit the heat
    And you spazzed out spittin out teeth ain't nothin please
    Big boys don't destroy blunt is so pop stare on
    50 men convoy, spends to wear the big toy
    Rumble through the wasteland my hands on the silencer
    40 caliber city slicker Staten Islander
    Synchronize minds combine thoughts that motivate
    Dont' perpetrate pass the blunt let it circulate
    Street politicians on a suicide mission
    Crime vision finger itchin from a scope-view position
    Dangerous ground
    Tre' pound seven spin around for my bredren the cloud comes down


    Yo
    Keep ya eyes open
    Love potion number nine poetry in motion
    Knowledge me the seventh sign
    Scold it canivin
    Infiltrate is most of mine
    Play 'em nonchalantly, calmly expose the nine
    Push and get shoved what the fuck gods thinkin of
    Comin in the club wit that screw face, actin up
    Is we men or mice, bad moon risin
    We wild for the night
    Kill a skitzofrenic nigga twice cuz-a
    That's what happened when frontin on this Shaol brotha
    Island of Staten we in here no fear
    Assault wit intent
    To kill your whole regiment it's real
    Startin wit yo president, duckin my dart gun
    Tear apart something you don't want it then don't start none
    Blaze one with Jonathon, part man part fly
    Handle my B-I camouflauge like G.I.
    Fat like Joe, a day in the life
    Your money or your life that's the life
    Everybody can't afford ice in the struggle
    Tryin to eat right another day another hustle hustle hustle
    (Uh huh uh huh uh huh uh huh uh huh)
    Dangerous ground
    Tre' pound seven spin around for my bredren the clouds come down
    War and peace, I take it to the street
    Land sharp on my lawn chop the thumbs off a thief
    Motherfuck

    1998 ©




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