[Intro: Method Man & Kung-Fu Samples]
[*Kung fu fighting*]
Yeah, uh, heheheh (That's Shadowboxing!)
Yo...
[Verse 1: Method Man]
It's that blacked out, spazzed out, G-String divas
Leave your ass out, passed out, it's cold
Pack your heater, blow your back out
Your bad mouth, make 'em all believers
Throwing rocks from a glass house, y'all ain't perfect either
See that cheeba and that hash out (Garbage day tomorrow)
And I have yet to take that trash out, and empty this cigar
RZA Ra, we amped, eh, Meth is on his job
It ain't nothing, like the French say; "que sera sera"
So let's move on, until the day we laying in the casket
With them suits on, and I'm so cool that hell is only luke warm
Been too strong, for too, long, I'll probably die
With my boots on, and on my way to cash a coochie coupon
You know I'm proper, don't let them boys confuse you
The fact is Meth come harder than bottles made by Yoo-Hoo
Wu-Tang, welcome to the House of Flying Daggers
Where the truth aim, flying out the mouth of flying rappers
There it is...
[Chorus: Method Man]
Now, ask yourself, is this for real, it can't be
My, nigga, if it ain't for real, it ain't me
I, elect myself as presidential M.C
I, elect myself as presidential M.C
Now, ask yourself, why is he so low key
Why, is niggas pimpin' when the game chose me
I, elect myself as presidential M.C
I, elect myself as presidential M.C
[*Kung fu fighting*]
Yeah, uh, heheheh (That's Shadowboxing!)
Yo...
[Verse 1: Method Man]
It's that blacked out, spazzed out, G-String divas
Leave your ass out, passed out, it's cold
Pack your heater, blow your back out
Your bad mouth, make 'em all believers
Throwing rocks from a glass house, y'all ain't perfect either
See that cheeba and that hash out (Garbage day tomorrow)
And I have yet to take that trash out, and empty this cigar
RZA Ra, we amped, eh, Meth is on his job
It ain't nothing, like the French say; "que sera sera"
So let's move on, until the day we laying in the casket
With them suits on, and I'm so cool that hell is only luke warm
Been too strong, for too, long, I'll probably die
With my boots on, and on my way to cash a coochie coupon
You know I'm proper, don't let them boys confuse you
The fact is Meth come harder than bottles made by Yoo-Hoo
Wu-Tang, welcome to the House of Flying Daggers
Where the truth aim, flying out the mouth of flying rappers
There it is...
[Chorus: Method Man]
Now, ask yourself, is this for real, it can't be
My, nigga, if it ain't for real, it ain't me
I, elect myself as presidential M.C
I, elect myself as presidential M.C
Now, ask yourself, why is he so low key
Why, is niggas pimpin' when the game chose me
I, elect myself as presidential M.C
I, elect myself as presidential M.C
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