"Suspect Chin Music" as written by Robert F. Diggs, Clifford Smith and Patrick Charles....





[Featuring Street Life]

[Method Man]

Suspect chin niggas no win niggas

send niggas back to go try again niggas

all hail me the good the bag the ugily

the money's around your way lovely

where for art thou Meth tical god child

I pack a smile like crocidile profile

can't hold it down? oh the shit gon' hit the fan now

spin around let your whole crown man down man down

[Street Life]

I live by the street code never old

never love a hoe, never flash the dough

cause you never know who friend or foe

got block control solid gold thought

before the blow lets stroll through the ghetto

habitat with no parole

never snitch switch which

keep a fresh pair of kicks

split the tongue snatch the weed

in case the cops want to strip search

think first prepare for the worst

when you do dirt

remember there's a million other niggas with the same thirst

[Method Man]

No doubt dummy out

bets pull the money out

niggas walk a funny route

this is what its all about?

young guns and dumb-dums

slum bums and sons

askin' niggas where they come from

get him for his one, um

sunshine, its crunch time

stranded on the front line

ducking from the one-time

niggas on the run, where the cameras can't come, ha

make this one the anthem

ring around the rosie

pocket full of Grants, uh

[Street Life]

Just because you wild in the club you ain't thug

sport gloves and gold mugs you ain't thug

tattoos and hard screws don't make you thug

sucker for love catch a slug, nigga

[Method Man]

Suspect chin niggas, no win niggas

send niggas back to go, try again niggas

shotgun slammin' in your chestpeice, blaow

shotgun slammin' in your chestpeice, blaow

[Street Life]

Carry your eyes and avoid spots

cellblocks rap blow you for your slide(?)

time what you got's mine

we can take it to the yellow lines and we can pull nine

whether the rhyme or the crime Ima still shine

heavy on the street talk cut your life support short

never had no love for you so there is no love lost

strictly enforced by the street stories get double crossed

hands off I run with the torch

[Method Man]

They got me fed up from the head up

put up or shut up

on stage in them shiny get-up

these niggas is funny

energizer bunny actors

they hustle backwards

son I think they gay rappers

say word, drop some stature

dog splash ya, party crash ya

the spell casta

heard the same before and after its over

flood get your brain end the game, done its over

end of the line out of time bitch its over

on the wrong street with no heat he was sober

we soldiers somebody should've told ya

[Street Life]

Million dollar ice on your wrist don't make you thug

cause a bitch is sucking your dick on your skit you ain't thug

bandanas and bad grammer don't make you thug

sucker for love catching slugs nigga

[Method Man]

Suspect chin niggas, no win niggas

send niggas back to go, try again niggas

shotgun slammin' in your chestpeice, blaow

shotgun slammin' in your chestpeice, blaow

Suspect chin niggas, no win niggas

send niggas back to go, try again niggas

shotgun slammin' in your chestpeice, blaow

shotgun slammin' in your chestpeice, blaow

[Street Life]

With the W burning through your flesh

verbally possesed never second guess

blow minds like David Koresh

fuck a vest you need a gun to protect your assets

deep in the aztecs break out before the sun set

street wars gimme yours crime is what I live for

got rhymes galore next time its at the wu store

if you sleep late, next date is at the cest gate

all you sober mcs, I leave y'all niggas half-baked

[Method Man]

Microphone is in a choke hold

losin' control bringing drama by the boatload

it takes drama

in the pillage now of cappadonna

my split persona hit their village and their baby mama

y'all niggas playing with this money while we stay hungry

and kept it pudgy it won't make me have to crash, dummy

before its over

you should keep your chain tucked in

and should never run your mouth with a suspect chin

now lay it down

[Street Life]

Just because you wild in the clup you ain't thug

sport gloves and gold mugs you ain't thug

tattoos and hard screws you ain't thug

real thugs runnin' with hate and smash love





Lyrics submitted by oofus

"Suspect Chin Music" as written by Patrick Charles Clifford Smith

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

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