Method Man - Live from the Methlab Lyrics

Ones
Shot where his chest at, blaow (uh, one)
(We get the) ones
One it's the Meth Lab, blaow
(We not the) ones
Matter fact, scratch that
We the one (yeah)
One, one, one, one, ones (look)

Pay me the homage these rappers couldn't afford (nah)
I'll never make a promise your mama couldn't abort (nah)
See I'm a big deal, I mean I'm kind of a boss
You can find right on that line you was trying to cross (yeah)
The kid cooking, got rappers shook and of course (uh-huh)
How he get so good at cooking, ain't never took him a course? (Nah)
Central booking before I took him to court
Man one, make sure he done, 'fore I put in the fork, bong
Y'all don't get it, don't see I'm getting the drop
Now anybody getting it, go from get it to got
I get it started, you never get it to stop
Like them inside jokes, he can even get it or not
I get it hot, but y'all forgetting me cold
Right now I'm passwords, y'all forgetting the code
And so another rapper waiting to roll
Down that highway to Heaven and Jesus paying the toll, whoa

Ones
Shot where his chest at, blaow
(We get the) ones
One it's the Meth Lab, blaow
(We not the) ones
Matter fact, scratch that (yessir)
We the one (let's go, doc)
One, one, one, one, ones (yo)

I was home and my phone ring, they said, "Method Man need a verse"
For my G's, I put Dapper Dan on a shirt
Fiends be fighting like hockey fans on a first
Perico flow, Saran Wrap for the works
Check credential, pen game Ginsu
My girl name Nine Nina, she on her menstrual
These young niggas, old niggas they don't wanna beef (yeah)
They say they in the street, but their block don't agree
I'm number one, no cap, big facts
Hey DJ, this blue magic on your slip mats
I got hitters, maybe one out of Staten Island
Walk in my shoes?
Like trynna do the crate challenge (get em?)
KRS-One and me and Meth
Roll on the set with the status, like BMF (woo)
Without money, you can't control your honey
If you a jack-boy better run from me, I got it
I was a product of my environment, not a product of putout
Built stacks for my retirement (yessir)
I talk dirty like the South where my mother from
I ain't number three or number two nigga, I'm number one

Ones
Shot where his chest at, blaow (ayy)
(We get the) ones
One it's the Meth Lab, blaow
(We not the) ones
Matter fact, scratch that
We the one
One, one, one, one

Ones
Shot where his chest at, blaow
(We get the) ones
One it's the Meth Lab, blaow
(We not the) ones (One)
Matter fact, scratch that
We the one
One, one, one, one, ones (KRS-One)

We the ones in the Meth lab, a sellout gonna do what?
Machete over their whole crew head, that's a crew cut
You never heard how we used to suit up, bring the brute out
And how these rappers you thought was dope, they got chewed up?
Who's up to get bruised up? You gonna choose what?
You can see what's going on man, you fake, you f*cked
Gun under the sellout's chin, his man threw up
'Cause when the gat went bang, the traitor's head flew up
I be saying straight to their face, to traitor, you suck
Corporate pimps are selling you and your man like two sluts
In L.A. they say, "KRS-One you nuts"
'Cause I'll bum rush the show with new flavor and new Chucks
I run amok on these f*cks, knife in they gut
My tongue sharp, amateurs ain't liking these cuts
These mics, I'm lighting 'em up, I'm not what you used to
I teach in China now, so my rhymes will fry your noodle
I'm on a search like Google, to find what's useful
I'm the guru in the Meth Lab bringing the fire to you
These rappers are the same, like Amazon Prime and Hulu
Talking gaga goo goo, it can drive you cuckoo
But I'm the revolutionary, you can't air me
I'm too scary, my roots are Malcolm X like Alex Haley
You know what I'm about, no doubt
Yo, Johnny Blaze good looking out, I'm out!

One, one, woo