[Verse 1: 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 clan 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

[Hook: Lauryn Hill]

They've got so much things to say right now

They've got so much things to say

[Verse 2: CL Smooth]

Like I'm givin you your last rites, when you see my face

All you're lookin at is stars and stripes

With three-fourths of the drug law

So now you know why we build with bricks, they build with straw

Against the mark of the beast

Cause sometimes men must fight wars to truly have peace

Hear to conquer valleys of foreign soil

'til you show me all your hidden weapons and fields of oil

I'm sendin in troops, heavy press want the inside scoop

I'm like mums the word up in this coop - oversee that God

When they move that quick

Admire my swag to use it as a measuring stick

I paid my dues, why we can't lose, plus I refuse

To let 'em stagnate the growth of my blues

The pattern of me is sign no statements, cop no plea

In what can only be American Me

[Hook]

[Verse 3: 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

[Hook]

[Boondocks Sample]

I'm gonna take you down

Unless I take you down first

"Unless I take you down first"

Is that the best you can do?

Shut up, punk!