Say

[Lauryn][Method Man] Yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah Yeah (Yeah) Yeah yeah (Yo) [Method Man] Damn, I hate it when it rain Ever since I came in the game Some hated on the fame A lot of niggas done changed And started actin` strange Even labels turning they backs And started backing lames Radio is the same, whole lotta speculatin` These mutherfuckas defacatin` on the name Wu-Tang, if this is where the hip-hop is Radio lyin` then, that ain`t where hip-hop live It lives in the streets, we eat to live they livin` to eat I`m fed up, that nigga rides in `em, givin `em sleep R.I.P., make me the king of all I see And when death call I`m good I got call ID See it was planned in the front, now they just gon` front Like my joints is on proactive, and they just don`t bump Then niggas gon` say I lost my skill when in fact they all been programmed And lost they feel, fo` real Chorus: [Lauryn](Method Man] They`ve got so much things to say right now They`ve got so much things to say They`ve got so much things to say right now (Yeah) They got so much things to say (Yo) [Method Man] Damn, another artist chokes again They ain`t cut as close as him or even broke the skin See how niggas ain`t yo friends, when there ain`t no ends Don`t care who the case offend, don`t underrate my pen I got what it takes to win, while ya`ll are thinking I`m trash Loving the taste of success and this drink in my glass Watch `em cosign that whack shit, give it a pass till it`s gone Quicker than Red, can`t get rid of them clubs When they`re wrong, call the cops, they credibility`s shot It`s time to learn, what hot really is and really is not Off brain niggas, Meth gonna let `em know off top Don`t get smacked on dvds, trying to show off blocks I can`t stop cause my enemies plot, or cause the cops want me Shackled and locked inside the penalty box And while they waitin` for my shit to flop They gettin` pimped like hoes Sellin` they ass just to get my spot, come on man Repeat Chorus [Method Man] Ask Miss Hill, half these critics ain`t got half this skill Often so hungry that they have to steal If I didn`t have my deal, and didn`t have this mass appeal Then I`m back up in that trap, swingin` crack it`s real And that ain`t worth the time, so search and find a new nerve And here`s three words: stop working mine It take a lot more to hurt my pride Jerk my vibe more than media lies, cry when dirt dog die nigga The last album wasn`t feeling my style This time my foot up in they ass but they feelin` me now Cause Tical, he put his heart in every track he do But somehow yall find someway to give a whack review It ain`t all good, they writin` that I`m Hollywood Tryin` to tell you my shit ain`t ghetto and they hardly hood Come on man, until you dudes can write some rhymes Keep that in mind when you find yourself reciting mines Repeat Chorus