Paroles Well all rite cha de Redman

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Doc's da name

1998

01. D.O.G.S.
02. Welcome to da bricks
03. Let da monkey out
04. I'll be dat
05. Get it live
06. Who took da satellite van?
07. Jersey yo!
08. Close ya doorz
09. I don't kare
10. Boodah break
11. Million chicken march (2 hot 4 tv) (skit)
12. Keep on 99
13. Well all rite cha
14. Pain in da ass stewardess (skit)
15. Da goodness
16. My zone!
17. Da da dahhh
18. G.P.N. (skit)
19. Down south funk
20. D. o. g. s.
21. Beet drop
22. We got da satellite van! (skit)
23. Brick city mashin
24. Soopaman lova iv
25. I got a secret

Well all rite cha

Featuring Method Man

[Method Man]
Hydro... indo... (buddha!)
Hah... cocoa... yo ya ya yo!
I need some brown weed (lady) all day
I need some cut (lady lady)
I need some brown weed (jenny)

Now these doors don't open til after dark
And it ain't til 12 til the party really starts
(Yo me and my crew had to be in by ten
Yo yo one bitten jabberjaws tryin to taste the
Right before the fun was about to begin)
paper written, kids be bullshittin, I see they flaws
Too many rebels, not enough cause for me to pause
Them broads love my shitty drawers, the finest
criminal minded put my life behind it, you niggaz
find it hard to swallow poison in the bottle, she too sexy
So I gotta watch you fast bitches, too many tricks

that can give a dick a bad sickness *coughing*
Yo, yo! Yo son excuse me?
[Redman]
(Yo) I'm tryin to earn a million buck or two
The I'll MC step in -- (and who the fuck are you?)
Doc start walkin bumpin M.O.P.
To catch a nigga gettin gassed, puttin ten on three
(Da Ruckus!) With the mic I blast men on sight
So off the hook Atlantic Bell had to go on strike
Doc did it, metaphors come AMG kitted
20/20 vision, comes tinted! From being so high..
(So high..) so high.. so high..

[Method Man]
Air it out
Iron Lung I be the street soldier, ante up
Pull them panties up, party's over, in the cut
slappin grudges offa niggaz shoulder, bringin ruck
like them Wild-cats at Villanova, hot as fuck!
of the universe, stole-a, colder than cola
Caps grab your hoodie hat, Island of Stat'
Duke or sober, suave bowler, soul controller

keep them cats runnin for they gat, in stormy weather
[Redman]
Stage dived, made a mistake, kicked F.O.I.
Gats, right hook, uppercut swollen how I left your eye
Aiyyo hoe! Doc be keepin a dope show like Marilyn
Manson the handgun be stashed in the panelling
Jersey drop son, watch me whip it like midget
(Don't nobody move) Don't nobody start flinchin
Diggin in that whole plate and, piss on your picnic
Limo driver, roll up the fuckin partition!
[M] Who them niggaz that be rollin them thai, high as a kite?

Gettin pussy all nite (well all rite cha) yeah yeah
(Get drunk as hell) and so on (well all rite cha) yo yo
[R] Well who them cats you can call on, when you wanna brawl?
[M] Hot Nix up in the house? (well all rite cha)
[R] Is Funk Doc up in the house? (well all rite cha) yo yo
[R] Bricks to Stat' hold it down (well all rite cha) yo yo

[M] Mad dick up in your mouth (hah, all nite cha)
[Redman]
Yo Tical's and Doc, did it before, I'll do it again
(Aiyyo we out!) Six drop in ten seconds, what?
Snatch spark to the ignition, I'm screwin it in
I'll be the first one on the floor at your, wedding reception
(Terminator 2) Doc after Sarah Conn'
B-Boys gather around and act p-noid
Bring the Trouble T-Roy, to earlobes, keyloid
for the barrel bonds (Am I on?) Tical, you're on

Uhh-uhh-on, uhh-uhh-on
Uh uh-uh uh-uh, uh-uh-on

[Method Man]
Got these slim pickins on my Charles Dickens, I pack a mac
to make your back stiffen, flip the script I act different
The eyeball, keep your distance, warning y'all you don't listen
Bitchin over shit you ain't gettin
So finally, puttin in work, the big hurt
MC, with a social disease, and get it first
Enemies, feel my energies, four centuries of anger
Remember me? (The field nigga!)
Too Ghetto Fabulous, RZA.. Sharp, and hazardous
Figure, with bad habit, can't hold his liquor
Speed like a millipede (Hot Nix-on)
Paragraphs, hundred degrees, my pen bleed (ha!)
Showin you the pain I feel from holdin these
Contemplate the non-fiction on loose leaves
black thoughts, deep rooted, nowadays
they come with batteries included, in wicked ways

[M] Who them niggaz that be rollin them thai, high as a kite?
Gettin pussy all nite (well all rite cha) yeah yeah
(Get drunk as hell) and so on (well all rite cha) yo yo
[R] Well who them cats you can call on, when you wanna brawl?
[R] Is Funk Diggy in the house? (well all rite cha) yo yo
[M] Meth Diggy no doubt! (well all rite cha)
[R] Bricks to Stat' hold it down (well all rite cha) yo yo
[M] Mad dick up in your mouth (all nite cha)

cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha...
* fades in and out before end

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Featuring Method Man

[Method Man]  
Hydro... indo... (buddha!)  
Hah... cocoa... yo  ya ya yo!  
I need some brown weed (lady) all day  
I need some cut (lady  lady)  
I need some brown weed (jenny)

Now these doors don't open  til after dark  
And it ain't til 12 til the party really starts  
(Yo  me and my crew had to be in by ten  
Yo yo  one bitten  jabberjaws  tryin to taste the  
Right before the fun was about to begin)  
paper written, kids be bullshittin, I see they flaws  
Too many rebels, not enough cause for me to pause  
Them broads love my shitty drawers, the finest  
criminal minded put my life behind it, you niggaz  
find it hard to swallow poison in the bottle, she too sexy  
So I gotta watch you fast bitches, too many tricks

that can give a dick a bad sickness *coughing*  
Yo, yo! Yo son excuse me?  
[Redman]  
(Yo) I'm tryin to earn a million buck or two  
The I'll MC step in -- (and who the fuck are you?)  
Doc start walkin bumpin M.O.P.  
To catch a nigga gettin gassed, puttin ten on three  
(Da Ruckus!) With the mic I blast men on sight  
So off the hook Atlantic Bell had to go on strike  
Doc did it, metaphors come AMG kitted  
20/20 vision, comes tinted! From being so high..  
(So high..) so high.. so high..

[Method Man]  
Air it out  
Iron Lung I be the street soldier, ante up  
Pull them panties up, party's over, in the cut  
slappin grudges offa niggaz shoulder, bringin ruck  
like them Wild-cats at Villanova, hot as fuck!  
of the universe, stole-a, colder than cola  
Caps grab your hoodie hat, Island of Stat'  
Duke or sober, suave bowler, soul controller

keep them cats runnin for they gat, in stormy weather  
[Redman]  
Stage dived, made a mistake, kicked F.O.I.  
Gats, right hook, uppercut swollen how I left your eye  
Aiyyo hoe! Doc be keepin a dope show like Marilyn  
Manson the handgun be stashed in the panelling  
Jersey drop son, watch me whip it like midget  
(Don't nobody move) Don't nobody start flinchin  
Diggin in that whole plate and, piss on your picnic  
Limo driver, roll up the fuckin partition!  
[M] Who them niggaz that be rollin them thai, high as a kite?

Gettin pussy all nite (well all rite cha) yeah yeah  
(Get drunk as hell) and so on (well all rite cha) yo yo  
[R] Well who them cats you can call on, when you wanna brawl?  
[M] Hot Nix up in the house? (well all rite cha)  
[R] Is Funk Doc up in the house? (well all rite cha) yo yo  
[R] Bricks to Stat' hold it down (well all rite cha) yo yo

[M] Mad dick up in your mouth (hah, all nite cha)  
[Redman]  
Yo Tical's and Doc, did it before, I'll do it again  
(Aiyyo we out!) Six drop in ten seconds, what?  
Snatch spark to the ignition, I'm screwin it in  
I'll be the first one on the floor at your, wedding reception  
(Terminator 2) Doc after Sarah Conn'  
B-Boys gather around and act p-noid  
Bring the Trouble T-Roy, to earlobes, keyloid  
for the barrel bonds (Am I on?) Tical, you're on

Uhh-uhh-on, uhh-uhh-on  
Uh uh-uh uh-uh, uh-uh-on

[Method Man]  
Got these slim pickins on my Charles Dickens, I pack a mac  
to make your back stiffen, flip the script I act different  
The eyeball, keep your distance, warning y'all you don't listen  
Bitchin over shit you ain't gettin  
So finally, puttin in work, the big hurt  
MC, with a social disease, and get it first  
Enemies, feel my energies, four centuries of anger  
Remember me? (The field nigga!)  
Too Ghetto Fabulous, RZA.. Sharp, and hazardous  
Figure, with bad habit, can't hold his liquor  
Speed like a millipede (Hot Nix-on)  
Paragraphs, hundred degrees, my pen bleed (ha!)  
Showin you the pain I feel from holdin these  
Contemplate the non-fiction on loose leaves  
black thoughts, deep rooted, nowadays  
they come with batteries included, in wicked ways

[M] Who them niggaz that be rollin them thai, high as a kite?  
Gettin pussy all nite (well all rite cha) yeah yeah  
(Get drunk as hell) and so on (well all rite cha) yo yo  
[R] Well who them cats you can call on, when you wanna brawl?  
[R] Is Funk Diggy in the house? (well all rite cha) yo yo  
[M] Meth Diggy no doubt! (well all rite cha)  
[R] Bricks to Stat' hold it down (well all rite cha) yo yo  
[M] Mad dick up in your mouth (all nite cha)

cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha...  
* fades in and out before end