[Verse 3: Method Man]

Check me out now, check me, check me out now

Here we, here we go

Wu-Tang bang here I come

Yo-ho-ho and a bottle full of rum

Nah, not that one, come again son

Straight out the dome with the hellified poem

I be the Meth Tical coming with the fresh freestyle

It's off the head and never been written before

I said that i'm the baddest brother in the land

I be the man M-E-T-H-O-D

Yes I am, Yes I am, here I am, never eat the ham

I like what, hit the girl from behind with my ill type rhyme

Got the style make you wanna like man combine

Connect four, coming through the [?] door

You know the style, the man he be the Meth Tical (Say what?)

Come on, Come on, Come on, Ghostface, hit me with a taste

[Verse 4: Ghostface Killah]

Yo, i'ma set it with one shot, forget me not

Ghostface blows the spot, popping niggas like Ronnie Lott

But of course, Wu-Tang Clan made The Source in no time

Niggas got flipped and tossed off the single

Hittin' like a bell and I jingle

A fat rap dose of the Ghost is what I bring you

At last the Wu-Tang Clan got me gassed

Labelled as a outcast the beat got smashed

Back up, thoughts is mad buck with real ass

Like shorty hooded up in a church with two MACs

Thoughts react so fast, I'm so sick

So quick to jig a nigga up with an ice pick

I'm stranded facing your peeps, I be the one

Picture Ghostface in the sun, be on the run

Reject that, brothers wouldn't never expect that

Running up on the God Ghost, what's the catch?

My technique, the words I speak shoot your freak

I get deep like killing George Bush in his sleep

Untold, no one seen shit, no one heard jack

I'm overseas counting G's relaxed and laid back

[Verse 5: Method Man]

Are you ready, to face the consequences and suffer?

I even take ya momma you ain't shit, motherfucker

Bring it, and let that killer bee kid sting it

And represent, it's like heads up a brick, when I swing it

Get lost, I break you off something

I'm pumping, like a Reebok, with a pump

From the jump and you was nothing

Bet you thought your freakin' clan had ya back but they was fronting

Smoking dirt blunts and fucking nasty sluts and

You just a naked gun without the bullet, what you busting?

Get your ship sunken, messing this drunken

Master disaster at any rap functions

Listen? Who said the Wu-Tang Clan? Was it you or your man?

You wanna point the finger, I'll bring ya

36 chambers, be out, you'se in danger

Let me pull your brain out your ass with a hanger

Didn't momma tell ya not to talk to a stranger?

Now ya got ya neck in the noose, of the strangler

Just recline, keep the Meth in mind

I'll even test a knuckle check on the hands of time

[Verse 6: Ghostface KIllah]

Nonchalantly, I roll up on the rap scene bluntly

And lamp like I'm knocking off keys collecting monthly

My nickel plated pattern of stacks rips the [?]

I build like i'm a stacking a log to make a cabin

Runnin' wild in Midtown, hit the ground quick

Mad bodies being lost and found

No one can stop me cause that's a sin, you know era

One thing, I bring the MC's, it be terror

Kick dirt on jerks and shit, I be the expert

Catch a hole in your shirt, John I do work

Ghostface maxing in the hall of fame place

Suicidal blends that kick like north lace

Surviving, crazy live when I flips a track

I hit a reverend in the head with a bat

And thew his head in a showcase, in a glass box with no case

Who did it? Ghostface!

[Verse 7: Method Man]

Now the new style like Buckshot and my man King Just

I'ma come with the harmonized style

Here we go, here we go, here we go, here we go

Check it out, check it out!

I got 36 styles on my mind, on my mind

Keep it real, Shaolin represent one time

All my people are you with me, where you at?

All my killer bees on attack, where you at?

Throw your fuckin' hands in the air if you want 'em there

If got got your gats peel a cap for the new year

Bodies in motion, what's the commotion?

Wu-Tang Clan be attacking your emotion

Flowin' like the ocean blue, I be coming for your crew

Flying guillotines style with the name Meth Tical

Is it going, is it going, is it gone?

If I ain't on your record then the shit ain't really on

One man band from the Wu-Tang Clan

Ask who the man, god damn it be Method

Here I, here I am and the plan

Hey! (Hey!) What? What?

I gotta get it going on, yeah, down the stair

Hey! Hey! I swing funky raps routines and tap the jaws

Spot you 20 points that you still can't score

Nothing, because you ain't got no points in this game

Bitch you frontin', I'm home run hittin' you be buntin'

Fresh out the toilet and I got my shit together

When I'm good, i'm good, when bad, I'm better

You want it? Whatever, I be the stormy weather

Rain coming down so weatherproof your leather – Jacket, a nigga with an axe couldn't hack it

I spark him like a match of a MAC

It's the Method, say it loud and the Method Man, clap your hands Now check it, see me in the mix rolling fat blunts and spliffs

Saw my physical, brother came through and got me lit

Niggas that I walk by and give me the eye

The moment is fuckin' me up, killin' me high

Nigga get back, you're pussy cat, fearsome

Basically that, I'm all that and them some

While I was out on tour going berserk

I heard you was at the sandbox and kicking dirt

All of my name but you can't pull my files

You don't know me and you don't know my style

Remember that hair like that, there yeah!

Even Grizzly Adams couldn't bare

[Verse 8: Ghostface Killah]

Yo, I know a kid by the name of Jiganti

Jiganti's a Teflon Don with a diamante

Forest green with the seats looking crazy mean

On some more rough type shit to make C.R.E.A.M

A little this, a little that, a little bit of everything

Had a little beef with Fat Cat

But it was over, my man's Range Rover got iked

And his piece got raped like the same night

Though it took place standing on the block selling base

And covering grounds, so how that sound?

Within the midst of making C.R.E.A.M

Jiganti, born in Cuba while looking like Bruce Springsteen

He had papes and had mad shit

He had Clacks and Muggs sticking niggas like hot gritts

But Fat Man's van got iked, and saw heavy man

Riding the 190E with a metal pipe

And tried to bug on my man Muggs

But Muggs pulled out the 16 shot and threw two slugs

And now you read it in the New York Post

How a man got slain by an insane Co-Host

Jiganti's blowin' like a motherfucker

And Clacks got a Range Rover with a chauffeur

And yo, Shit got deep and all of that but yo black

Why did it have to go down like that?

[Verse 9: Method Man]

Shit's gonna happen if niggas start actin'

Like they want problems

You want 'em? You got 'em

Rap contact, is writin' this exact-

Ly, the way it should, be, attack

Killer Beez on the swarm

Salaikum as-salaam, drops bombs like Qur'an

The ism helps to stimulate my pugilism

I bust rhymes like jism

Impregnate the rhythm with the wisdom

Decipher, the stee, I be hyper

I dwindle the style, that rekindle like old flames

Saliva, check the wicked flows I delyvah

Oops, I mean deliver like the Hudson River

Style came trite, trife like a thief in the night

I be that sneaky-ass nigga bustin' nuts in yo wife

Blasted, buggin' off Bacardi and acid

Flippin' on the mic like gymnastic

Tical!