Am I My Brother's Keeper?

[Intro: Method Man]

Ayo, ayo, ayo, yo, yo, yo (Uh-huh)

My son one is back, fuck that (My shine is beautiful)

It's time right now, you know?

It's like we ain't fuckin' with no lame ass niggas no more

Bein' bullshit by bullshit niggas (for real)

[Verse 1: Method Man]

Am I my brother's keeper? Theres no need to ask

I'm the creeper, million dollar man, Johnny Cash

Puff the reefer, sometimes mix it with the hash

Hard to keep up, hundred yard dash, beat your feet up

Jumping Jack Flash on a motherfucker's ass

Caught 'em in the weed stash tryna tap the bag

Now he suspect, read him his rights, it's only right

I ain't never, never, never in my long-legged life

Ever bite like shark niggas, got an appetite

For destruction, lusting for dough, it's disgustin'

Disgraceful, end of disscusion, distasteful

Like cyanide, erase you, pull up, let me take two

"Come All Ye Faithful", Mef and Shyheim

Tommy Hilfiger that I'm a Johnny 'field nigga

'Til I die, S.I.N.Y. testify

Girlfriend sweatin' my game, killing my high

[Verse 2: Shyheim]

I'm a hundred proof.like Smirnoff blue label

I'm so wild, got housearrest bracelets on each ankle

I break you, something fatal and make New Jersey trade you

You don't got game, so niggas don't player-hate you

Come back to Brooklyn, the ya G's gone

Chase you up, batted in dun, dun

Nike won't endorse you so you rock an And-1

I pull out the M-1 and hit you handsome

'Cause you forcin' it, you can hang it up like an ornament

End your actin' career, put you back in street tournaments

Run for your life, like you doing suicides

Wouldn't even use your scrub ass in Live '99

[Chorus: Shyheim]

Am I my brother's keeper? There's no need to ask

I ride for my brothers, give me the gun and the mask

We be in the bushes like The Down Low stash

Pop up like a warrant, let off on that ass

Am I my brother's keeper? There's no need to ask

I ride for my brothers, give me the gun and the mask

We be in the bushes like The Down Low stash

Pop up like a warrant, let off on that ass

[Verse 3: Infamous Bluesteele]

Yo, you will catch the player Inf' way beyond calm

Sharp and on bomb chron, rockin' my Sean John

Copin the bomb chron from Sharon on the quan

Got me chinky-eyed like a Hong Kong don

Fire arm palm, cock back caution

Alarm for the chumps, boy, what you think you gon'

Palm with my charms, better pay attention to the harm in my palm

And it's fully-loaded, if I said it, could he hold it?

But once he seen the gun I said, "son, look he bolted"

Son, look he noted, the Berrettas'll shever, but he was clever

He stopped screwing and he blew in his vendettas

His crew was in to leathers, Avirex and guns

Some of them was smart but I could say the rest was dumb

So I played the vest for dumb and saved the checks for dumb

'Cause they hard-head niggas who graze and steadily come

To be leakin' something, you could care for speakin' frontin'

'Bout shit they stick, instead of zip they lip

They was young niggas, you know the young dumb niggas

Who don't care how they get it as it come, nigga

*fades*

[sample]

*old school party music playing and fades*

Hey, hey

Are you that little guy makin' all that big noise?

*sounds of mad ass dog and man screaming*