Method Man

Method Man - Afterparty lyrics

Damn... yo, yo

Woke up in the morning, like ten A.M

Walked passed the Listerine, went straight for the gin

Osama Bin Laden on my chinny chin chin

Yo, Meth, the mailman!

Yo, Ghost, let him in!

Will you sign, Mr. Ghostface, package for a friend, here

Right by the X, my bad, here's a pen

Gucci flip flops, I box my way to the kitchen

My keys is missin', my trees is missin'

No more parties, cuz Doc need to listen

Cuz something in my closet, go look (he's a pissin')

I cursed this bitch out, we be laid back

Half a box of cereal gone, my milk's warm

Mad strong, this is John John, pro and con phenomenon

Stretch with a morning yawn, party 'til the break of dawn

Ladies throw your faces on, sing it when the break come on

Each (meet) son (see)

Boats (suites) dough (beats)

No cat give you these, rap flow triple g's

Meth, Ghost, Killa Beez, you know we ride

Wu-Tang, the best rap group of all time

Rush little shotgun, rest around nine

Refrigerator, fish and sweets with no swine

Dirty and Meth guest room with four dimes

And U-G. had a master headache

Him and Genius flew back from, Uganda black, gettin' that cake

Where Divine at? Wine at

Tell a DJ to rewind that, Killa killed it wit a blind back

Dime sack, you know we blew that wit the cognac

Them bowling ball lead head niggaz, we call them pawn yacks

I say my girl, like to party all the time, Ghost

Spend up my ends, every week, she always crime broke

Thank God it's friday, I just got paid

Feelin' good like I just got laid

The next drink's on me, instead of, oh God, you think O.G

White girls they comin' out, like they Pink on E

So you better get the party started, we get it crunk regardless

We got the 'dro and hypnotic, them kids is puffin' garbage

Is where it's crackin' at, Street is you passin' that?

Mami's is grabbin' ass, Johnny, I'm grabbin' back

You know my habitat, you know my peoples

If you wit me, where you at

There ain't nothin' compared to that, come on!

Each (meet) son (see)

Boats (suites) dough (beats)

No flows ill as these, him and Ghost, nigga please

Meth, Ghost, Killa Beez, you know we ride

I got me some Seagram's gin

Everybody got they cup, but they ain't shit there

(These cheap muthafuckas be grown ass men

Tight muthafuckas finish your shit then they bounce off with them)

Come back again, drunk off your gin

And when they try to get you for they ends, that's no friend

That's no friend, eh, eh

Yeah, greedy muthafuckas, always wanna get high

But never wanna buy, first one to come to the party

Last one to leave, man, fuck all that

Aiyo, Mr. Streetlife, tell 'em where we come from man..

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