Method Man - Gold Lyrics
[intro: Method Man]Aiyyo Shorty, Yo That's My WordOh, Y'all Smellin Y'all Piss Now Y'all Think Y'all GoldYo Anybody Get Caught PlayinOver Here, I'm Returnin Em That's My Word That They Be BlastedAnything From Two-twenty To One-fourty, That's MineY'all Niggaz Step The ***** OffY'all Niggaz Ain't Crazy For Real[chorus: Genius]Yo, The Fiends Ain't Coming Fast EnoughThere Is No Cut That's Pure EnoughI Can't Fold, I Need Gold, I Re-up And ReloadProduct Must Be Sold To You[verse One: Genius]I'm Deep Down In The Back Streets - In The Heart Of MedinaAbout To Set Off Something More Deep Than A MisdemeanorUnder The Subway, Waiting For The Train To Make NoiseSo I Can Blast A Nigga And His Boys - For What?He Pushed Up On The Block And Made The Dope Sales DropLike The Crashin Of Dow Jones StockI Had To Connect To Cross Seals, To Catch More Mil'sThan Ho-*****es Got Birth Control PillsI'm In The Park, Settin Up A Deal Over Blunt FireBum Niggaz Sleepin On The Bench, They Had Em WiredPeeped My Convo, The Address Of My CondoAnd How I Changed A Nigga Name To John DoeAnd While We Set Up Camp, We Got VampPut The Stake Through His Heart, I Ripped His *****ing Fangs ApartSnake Got Smoked On The Set Like Brandon LeeBlown Out The Frame, Like Pan Am Flight 103He Got Swung On, His Lungs Was Torn, TheKingpin Just Castled With His Rook And Lost A PawnA Regular On The Block, And Played Look-outFor Playing Predator With A Glock, He Should Have Took Out[chorus:]No Neighborhood Is Rough EnoughThere Is No Clip That's Full EnoughI Can't Fold, I Need Gold, I Re-up And ReloadProduct Must Be Sold To YouThe Fiends Ain't Coming Fast EnoughThere Is No Cut That's Pure EnoughI Can't Fold, I Need Gold, I Re-up And Reload,Product Must Be Sold To You[verse Two: Genius]It's Mandatory ThatI Supply All My Troops With Mega FirearmsBig Apes, And Spread Em Out Like Crops On A FarmTo Get Cream, Sometimes They Repaint The SceneLike The Last Episode On Gates And Other NiggazPlant Bombs Til The Smoke From The Blast Becomes ThickAnd Flows Through All They Knew, He's Gun SickHis Glock Clicks, Like High-heeled Shoes On Parquay FloorsMad Sick, Stand On Hills And Invade WarsFilthy Foul, Shoveling Dirt, He's Out To HurtFor Instance, Chop Off Hands, Attack WorthHis Idols Would Lock Down Airports And Next ExtortSome Import, Catchin Ten Percent Of What The Fiends SnortUp In The Ski Resorts, Up In HillsThey Move Keys And Had Skis Making Drops On SnowmobilesThe Plan Was To Expand, Catch Seven Figures, Release TriggersAnd Live Large And Bigger Than My NiggaWho Promised His Moms A Mansion With Mad RoomsShe Died, And He Still Put A Hundred Grand In Her TombOpen Wounds, He Hid Behind Closed DoorsAnd Still Organized Crime And Drug Wars[chorus:]The Fiends Ain't Coming Fast EnoughThere Is No Cut That's Full EnoughI Can't Fold, I Need Gold, I Re-up And ReloadProduct Must Be Sold To YouNo Neighborhood Is Rough EnoughThere Is No Clips That's Full EnoughI Can't Fold, I Need Gold, I Re-up And ReloadProduct Must Be Sold To YouThe Peers That Come Is Tight EnoughThere Is No Niggaz That's *****ing UpI Can't Fold, I Need Gold, I Re-up And ReloadProduct Must Be Sold... To You
