The Show lyrics

[Intro: sample]
"Wanna see the world, ain't scared to do it
Even if, your shocked by it
Me and you, lost when you do it
By myself, better off bein' you"

[Intro: Method Man]
Smoke cess n*gga, smokin' that A.K
Northern lights, yeah.. stick 'em!
Uh, ahhh, baby, you know it like a poet, baby doll
Yeah, yeah, crooked letter in, uh uh, S.I., better
Known as the crooked letter I
Come on! Self Service

[Method Man]
Y'all know me since '93, now let that weed burn
Back in this b*tch, class dismissed, it's the return
Of the super sperm, game over, lose a turn
Takes a germ to kill a germ, when will y'all killas learn
Your only as good as your last hit
Soon as you put them automatics on safety that's it
I calm them bast*rds, I call them ratchets
Till you blasted, the outcome, ashes to ashes
We make classic, huh, bring you a rougher sound
You either up or down, don't get that ass kicked
Ya'll n*ggas f*ck around, y'all only tough around
The crowds, scared to bust a round, don't get that ass kicked
What part of the game is this?
I came to break bread, evidently y'all killas came to b*tch, n*gga
So, whose the whipped n*gga, don't even trip, n*gga
Some say they pull trigga, I think they bullsh*tter
I just begun to fight, if mommy like daddy talk
Then daddy might get him some tonight
Give me, my limelight, give me, my five mics
Give me, some weed and a light to get my mind right
Is he, the illest M.C., to ever play the tough city
To find out it'll cost you bout a buck fifty
Across your face swiftly, my after taste sh*tty
Whose built by New Yitty, whose milked like two titties
And I ain't even got to say my name
I got this duck wit her legs up like, "say my name, trick"
You think it's all a game, like pus*y all the same
I'm speakin' toilet slang, not seakin' hall of fame
It's raw, sushi, stain in your drawers, dooky
Quarter a Lucy, quarter more for a groupie
That like to pop snoopy, think she gon' pop coochie
Just cuz you got Gucci, don't mean you not hoochie
Girl, I tell it like a T-I-N
Ain't no other kids eatin' till I feed my kids
Trick, oh, you ain't crushin', sister, I can't do nothin' wit you
My money's celebate, honey, and we ain't f*ckin' wit you
I do it for the nookie, some say I'm too pushy
Only thing better than pus*y, that's some new pus*y
There that go, looky, it's gettin' ugly even
With n*ggas so broke, they couldn't spend a lovely evening
[Outro: Method Man]
Yeah, that's it
Yeah, Method Man has just left the muthaf*ckin' building