Elements

[Intro: Method Man]

(There...there?)

One more gain

Yo, uh-huh uh-huh

Star

[Verse 1: Method Man]

Surround sounder, blunt smokin, remy downer

Hip-hop sizzar slingin' my raw in your flounder

You get skidawed, undertakin' undergrounders

This Lyricist Lounge with Lo, that be lounger

Aliens is out of townish, fuck applause

Niggas clap now with forty pounders, and fourty-fours

Is it all, fair in love and war, young 'uns with guns

Acting like they taking yours, uh, live by the sword

They gonna die by the sword, uh

My vocal cords break the laws that apply to nature, low and these niggas love to hate ya

Request the Henney straight no chaser

Twin towerin', I skyscrape ya, now give me yours

[Verse 2: Star]

Trifled disciple, arch rival reppin with weapons that homicidal Star

Leaves you marked from the start like tribal scars

(Allah punk) I'm hazardous as a bomb and arms spinnin' like Christ

Recitin' psalms in the streets of Babylon

(Verbs I gather well) [?] data shells

My squad camoflauge jewels like the Bible with parables

With the navigator, spittin razor sharp, breath laser data

That'll tickle you now, but slay you later

[Verse 3: Method Man]

On this one call me Lee Major

Million dollar man, bionic or proffesor chronic, still not a player

I just fuck alot, the panty raider

Get shortys mad, they curse you wild on your sky pager, stankin' ass

[Verse 4: Polite]

Yo Mr. Big Mouth, better duck down or bite the bullet

You niggas got guns but you scared to death to pull it

Bet if I pull my gun I'm gon' squeeze

I'm startin at your head, son, and stoppin' at your knees

I hate your screwmugs, rumble counterfeit thugs

Niggas want mine, bet they come and get it in blood

Fat potential, gave birth to a corrupt mental

Foul thoughts paralyzin' temples, it's just that simple

[Chorus: All]

You better come with your best gun, niggas be holdin'

It's all war no fun, niggas be bowlin'

You niggas under pressure now

My squad's down for whatever with whoever now, let's get it on

Best to come with your best gun, niggas be rollin'

It's all war no fun, niggas be holdin'

You niggas under pressure now

My squad's down for whatever with whoever now, let's get it on

[Verse 5: Star]

Arm leg shots to hit the spot like a four-fifth Glock

We got this hip-hop shilock and all you clique got was lip lock

Heavy heat, steady street sweepin' your peeps

Hawks, machete chops puttin' cease to your petty fleet

This raw rebel got more metal than pop

And rock groups, when my Glock shoots the scores settled

A ground attack, I'm bound to clap rounds of rap

Clowns are found flat, face down around the map

Simple minds, cripple smiles, my rhymes are four-five

The size oh two nines combine, can't even tickle mine

[Verse 6: Method Man]

If I told you once, I told your ass a thousand times, chump

Body in the trunk, stay in line punk, fuck wit me and mine

[Verse 7: Polite]

Yo, you be the actual, sixteen bars, comin' after you

Never go against my team, they might embarrass you

Slit-slang terrorist talk, fully armed

Put your hands up, I'mma put a hole in your paws

Ruin your side show, eyes low, brains fried from hydro

Two choices, bass off or either die slow

We all scholars when it's time to clean a dirty dollar

Attack the boards just like a Rottweiler

[Verse 8: Method Man]

Niggas comin' out they shoes like they Usher

These motherfuckers on the run, in they socks from, the bounty hunter

Iron Lungster, rain and thunder

Here come the lightning, now I'm strikin' back at niggas bitin', pushin' buttons

Just a step away from self-destruction

Inch and a half away from touchin' somethin', suckin' away from bustin'

Y'all brothers laugh now and cry later

I rap from Alpha to Omega, 64 to Sega, whoopin' that ass

Walk you dogs through the lookin' glass, been burnin' MCs since cookin' class

Makin' it hot  like the summer in the crackspot with blacktops

My nickle slot, triple bar, hit the jackpot, on each block

I'm the remedy, send them back to me after detock

Shorty got knuckles in the Reebok

Plus we got a problem with the Benz

(What's the problem with the Benz)

She want the six-hundred, but she ain't got the ends

[Chorus: All]

You better come with your best gun, niggas be holdin'

It's all war no fun, niggas be bowlin'

You niggas under pressure now

My squads down for whatever with whoever now, let's get it on