Redbull (feat. Redman, Method Man, Inspectah Deck, Ghostface Killah & Raekwon)

RZA came and got me, this what I came to do, come on
 Ring the bell so it's time to eat
 Brick Dog stash weed inta AMI-seats, bomb inside the palm
 Doc rock a wife beater with me beatin' my wife ass ironed on
 The front, my pump built like the Klumps
 To carry it I take the spare out the trunk
 I stay hungry, I ain't worked for days
 That's why you see the pump when the curtains raise
 Blast, don't panic
 Do I gotta explain how I tame and lock
 The rap game single-handed? Hell nah
 I won't tell you son, if I find a wack ID, I sell you one
 Doc and Hot Nick, Inspectah
 My lecture's like Hannibal Lector's
 Where's the ketchup? Don't speak on it, shut ya trap
 I see ya whole crew yellow like mustard packs
 Ah woo, Doc in my own zone
 You say you got the rap games sewn
 But it's sewn wrong
 I ride through ya hood in a Mr. Softee truck
 Then pull a mac out a box of snow cones
 Yeah, ya little fucks
 Gimme ya fuckin' money
 Uhuh, check it
 I'm hotter than a hundred degrees with my coat on
 Playing with a dynamite stick, where did I go wrong?
 Somebody pull the fire along when Jonny stomp
 If ya lukewarm leavin' ya clothes and boots torn
 Pro's and con's, megabomb's and so-on's
 By arid actions try MC's to get their roll on
 First issue, got issues
 What is hip-hop to hot nickels?
 It's like Funk Doc to snot tissues, word
 Look at my hand and get the third
 Finger out ya ear hole like "Fuck what you heard"
 Now, that's what I call hardcore, let's act fool
 Mr. Fix-It like Handyman I pack tool
 I been shitty, I'm from the veils of the city
 And just because my outfit match don't make me pretty
 Baggy Dun Gurees, dick need room to breathe
 In a room full of crackers I might cut the cheese
 Ain't no rules to the game
 If it is we ain't playin'
 In your business like EPMD, "So whatcha sayin'?"
 You co-designin' that bullshit yo man tryin'
 Chaka chaka cha-ta tatat
 Slugs flyin'
 Yo, ya
 Check, the code echoes from magazines to the big screen
 Fo' wheel machines like ya wits scream, kids fiend
 From the urban to sub-urban
 Roll upon me thirstin' like "Hey, hey, Mister Dream-Merchant"
 We roll longer than dice in a casino
 Cee-lo in the 4, 5 or 6 with double 0
 Behind the tinted windows I lie low
 On some hydro tryin' to slide from the 5-0
 But now, get wild similar to Ol' Dirty
 On third time felon just hit with over 30
 No worries, style have 'em so thirsty
 First degree heats are quittin' on me
 Cold turkey, no mercy
 I bring the pain of a hundred migraines
 But a thousand shoutin' my name that's why I came
 But first bring the cash burst, then the outburst
 My surround sound pound ya ear like Jevon Kearse
 I flex muscle outside I find a next hustle
 Trouble with ya here and face the tec-muscle
 Even the best buckle win, I take it to the extreme
 It gets ugly, but it's what a nigga do to get cream
 This life