Blackout Lyrics - Call Down The Moon - Man

[Intro]: Meth 

*All my people...!* 

[Redman] 

It's Funk Doc 

Where da weed at, bitch?! 

I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops 

See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit! 

Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for t.v. 

Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to Project-ballers 

You yell: "Turn the heat down!" 

My voice, diggi-di-round-sound, some herb round town 

And chances of ya'll leavin', round now 

Wait later, will make Funk page paper 

They rape up the Juveline Ave Graders 

Hit the High School at 187 Caesar 

When I bust ya'll need to back 4 achers 

Doc ya'll and that's my man Jap-A-Jaw 

The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off? 

I'm from the underground, my soundlib 

Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds! 

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[Chorus]: Meth & Red 

GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH 'EM 

JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT! 

Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM 

Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM 

Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT 

MOVE OUT, EVEN KNOCK THE TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL FEEL IT! 

Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM 

Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM 

[Meth] 

Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin' 

A pursuit with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN'? 

My hand that rock yo' cradle often 

I'm hot-scorchin', but stome cold like Steve Austin 

If you smell what Tical cookin', ain't try to see, send you bookin' 

So til ya gon' stop lookin', now what you did last summer? 

So I started hookin', you past shookin' 

Over open can I ass-whoopin'? 

Ain't no Tamara's in the Method's Little Shop Of Horrors 

Go ask your father who the father from the Hilbill harbour 

You know tha saga, marihuana plushin' gold sluggaz 

With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon and Reggie 

Don't even bother, the radio for back-up 

Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for his icin' 

Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!* 

Come meet me like Tyson and bite a nigga' ear 

Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew 

Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, Exatorer 

People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors 

Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a bone 

Straight from the Caticone 

The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue 

Prepare for desert storm! 

Photos 

[Chorus] 

I scored 1.1 on my SAT 

And still pushin' whip with a right and left AC 

Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get caught 

I'm behind the brickwall with Aus and Nick Jaws 

Spit poison, got a gun permit draw 

Gundown at Sundown you keep score! 

This training-course and ya'll ain't fit 

On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit' 

[Meth] 

Yo', all you gonna be, want to be 

When will you learn? want to be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn 

I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve 

With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s 

The most slapped on ? and wink 

My shit stink with every element from A to Z 

So what you think? I'ma blackout on just one drink? 

You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe 

Go get a shrink... 

[Chorus]