Fire

[Intro: Scotty Wotty] George Peppard [Verse 1: Scotty Wotty] I whip cause I sprung shit, bang, here’s a bung hit Cats split your tongue, shit, bitch got cum sick She can keep the knee pads, sign for the helmet Man vibrations, coming off the pelvis Thugs and prescription drugs, yo, where’s Elvis? Pull off the panties, she was smelling like a shellfish Gung when we rung shit, that run, here we come, spit Eyes on the gunship, heh, here’s your Blistex Here’s a spliff twist, hanging out the window like a rhyme smith Now you taking flicks of my footprint Sunshine and dough ride just like a biscuit Live wire, no installation is required One match, I set the world on fire Live wires, no installation is required One match, I set the world is fire [Hook 2X: Scotty Wotty] The God said to put the fire on it The God said to put the fire on it One match, we set the world on fire One match, we set the world on fire [Verse 2: U-God] It’s the art of war combat, every move is high tech Human Terminator nigga, plug me into SkyNet Red bone, hot head, burnt down my projects I turn sound into killing flying objects Blood off contracts, kill ‘em on contact Yeah, I got bread, dead? Nope, not yet Damn, you ain’t pop yet, haters wanna block that Snatch mics, hunchback, talk smack, I punch back Flew off the launchpad, right through your insides Great minds combine, try to study my enzymes Skating on the thin line, fighting for the airtime Push back your hairline, with shots of tequila lime Stay on my global grind, talk with a sober mind Putting in more overtime, till I reach a billion In the condominium, skinny tall Brazilian With so many tats, she looking reptilian [Hook 2X] [Verse 3: Method Man] My hand hot, killer, curry in the pot, killer Look how these killers thinking they are and they not, killers I get the drop, killer, all the killings stop, killer My heavy hitters flex on everyone you got with ya This track’s not filler, talk with my hands, I’m tryna feel ya It might be the fact that we not familiar Or, not La Familia, a monkey with bars You not gorilla, Zilla, calling you Don, my pen has gotten iller Yeah, you know who we are, you know the slums Where the women keep the wook in they bra, that’s where I’m from Cops catch you with the rook in the car, this where you run You can die here, son, and the ambulance never come, ugh Ain’t no limit till I spit it, my Yankee fitted Shout out to critics that know I’m wicked for killing minute Shout out to rappers that ain’t committed, but think they get it Hold up, now wait a minute, let me put some hating in it [Hook 2X]