Tical Intro: Duel, worthy of a general If you want to fight, fight with me! One to one! Man to man! Get ready to gel team! Live and direct from the one-six-ooh We got Tical, pow! Raekwon the Chef, Tical! It's about to go on, Tical! You make the call, I make the call! It's all for all Method Man, Raekwon the Chef (count my shells) And there's about to be one left (count my shells, nigga) I know you know it'son kid (Bring that shit I don't give a fuck!) *bell rings* Verse One: Method Man Who lit that shit it was I the chinky-eye Cheeba-hawk from New York, Tical Staten Isle niggaz thought, that they could walk a dog but they caught a bad situation, cause I'm a sandwich short of a picnic, cause you ain't equipped with the sickening style, blowing up the spot like ballistic missiles, I be comin through like the four-nine-three-eleven tearing up the power-u, Me-Tical A bad motherfucking buddah monk, what the fuck hit your chest, like cardiac arrest, blow the front out the frame, hit the pussycat for the pain of the dog shit, nobody move run your garments A rugged vet, terrible like a Champion sweat Wrap a power in a tec, to wet a nigga up, with all the dangerous diseases Sniffling sneezing coughing aching stuffy head fever Fucker, I think it's bout time that you suffer Bobbin on my nob like an all day sucker *bell rings* Bitch! Meth Vs. Chef (it's my turn) Meth Vs. Chef (yo let's bring that shit baby) Meth Vs. Chef (yo, yeah, one more time nigga) Meth Vs. Chef (callin me out ...
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