Lyrics
Let’s see you try the water technique! Hai! Ha, ha!
The sky is high, the cloud is low, yeah, word up
But my water technique is hard to beat
But the earth, can absorb water, hai! Hai! gotta zip my coat
The sky is high, the cloud is low fuck him
But my water technique is hard to beat yeah, check the live shit
But the earth, can absorb water, hai! Hai!"uhh
So what the fuck I got to lose ha? Word to God let’s get it on
Clap your heels three times, grab the magic wand
Nameless, these stonewashed cats, leave 'em brainless
Somewhere out of this world, stranded on Uranus
With coke and a dollar bill, stems and crack capsules
Take a blast boo, booby trap a cruise it’s natural
Like soybean, burn like a laser beam
My vaccine, I shoot it firm and it connects like sideburns
The segment, rap fragment comes together like magnets
Attract heads captured like Dragnet
Going through mad phases, of all ages
Killa Beez locked the fuck up behind cages
The Genovese swallow this line and caught a freeze
Press caller ID for me to quote more degrees
The fortune teller tuck a sleeping gas umbrella
Award winning dining in the back of Armanbella
Now who, don’t believe that cash must rule
I don’t eat meat, I slap blood out of Perdue
Keep a wireless mic, mics on strike the session
Is over, I file this and glow like fluorescent
Peace to y’all, let’s get our rhyme on
Yeah peace to y’all, let’s get our rhyme on
Yo yo, mountains of blow like snow constant cash flow
Rocking a Shaft afro, Tony got mad glow with hoes
Mega powder dripping from they nose
Fucking Jet magazine bitches with wide pussy pose
Centrefold the whole night, deadly venom horror snake bites
Only Built 4 Cuban Link kings who shoot dice
Holding money bags, convertible Benz with feathered bags
With the mongoose your man’s got two seeds down in Baghdad
You onionhead niggas spread out and parley
Yo, Rae these ick days get crashed with ash trays
I pull stings like, guitar strings down in Spain
I’m so hyped Jakes label God «crack cocaine»
Y Equality Self God, yeah yeah you know it kid
Ricky fucked up a G-Pack, blow his wig
He’s rocking Wu Wear, the latest in fleece uniform
He’s a newborn, look at money swearing like he on
But anyway back to furry Kangols, Jamaican Wallabies
My back is on the wall, bombing devils with tricknology
My heart is cold like Russia, got jerked at The Source awards
Next year two hundred niggas coming with swords!
