Method Man - Built For This (Ft. Freddie Gibbs & StreetLife) | Текст песни

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• Method Man
• Built For This (Ft. Freddie Gibbs & StreetLife)

[OST "IronFists"]
[Verse 1: Method Man]
Sort of like Malcolm at the Audubon
They coming for me, time is money no Audemar
See bar-for-bar, I keep it pushing no R&R
No foreign broads and no promotion for foreign cars
The game is ours, let’s keep it funky who said he was
Like Staten Island, Italians bleed spaghetti sauce
If y'all ain't shaking or stacking than y'all already lost
Already cross the light, Christ I'm ready for em
Plus anybody that saying no, I’m taking numbers
I’m taking names, I’ll take your chain take this hunger
Pain, pain, pain
Then you feel the thunder and rain I don’t talk it like the rainbow
I get it done and the game y’all
Do me a favor, don’t ever play with my ball
Never been a player-hater I just ain't playing with y'all
You watching lame but look I’m taking the charge
Going hard will get you two shots now I’m facing the charge

[Hook x2: Freddie Gibbs]
Fire up the la let’s go take a ride
They might catch you by surprise if you let em slide
But if you’re built for this shit then you might survive
Guess I’ll see you when you wake up on the other side

[Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs]
Sort of like Mike at the United Center
Madison Square, Boston Garden I straight ignite on niggas
Lil' nigga your raps ain’t no fire, that shit’ll collapse so don’t try
I scribble and scratch down in my pad that no lie
That no fake, that uncut, that straight drop, what the fuck
I’m pulled over by the jakes, a twenty-eight up in my nuts
For em took away in cuffs I’d rather lay up in the dust
Feel like fuck a friend a hundred million haters ain’t enough
Twist it up
Life is a blunt and the world is my ash tray
I got them quarters and them halves just meet me like halfway
And I need a hundred percent of my profit ain't fucking with half pay
Ain't taking no shorts or losses bitch we ain't fronting no tag day
As I can recollect, praying to God this dope’ll stretch
Turn mobster warners, work these corners like P90X
Chilling and waiting, patient retaliation just ain't find me yet
I’ll take it into Heaven, you couldn’t buy me that, remind me that

[Hook]

[Verse 3: StreetLife]
It's the world’s worst, quick to snatch your man purse
And leave your body head first in the stretched hearse
Murder she wrote, I’m known to spit a killer verse
And leave a player blood spilling on his linen shirt
You can Google my name but you ain't gotta search
I’m right here in the streets, I'm putting in work
Go ahead, fuck around and get your feelings hurt
Or, you can get carried outta your local church
I’m from the old school, I do my own dirt
Mama raised no fool, I did my own work
Keep your wifey close, she’s a little flirt
I knew her since '03, I hit the bitch first
I’m the reason why your baby mama water burst
I’ve been marvelous since birth, you can ask my Earth
It’s not a problem to show you how the shotty work
I put your body in the dirt, but what the dollars worth

[Hook]

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