Check the Method

Lord Finesse - Check the Method

It's like that, y'all, check it out now

(Yeah yeah, now check the method) (Repeat 4x)

Fuck that, you know who's bigger

Even though nowadays you got all these motherfucking new niggas

Fuck those who spread rumors, I didn't retire

Even though you got all these Lord Finesse juniors

Trying to get hype and rip mics

They just imitators that can't quite get my shit right

So won't y'all just face it

That y'all sweat me so much I gotta give my dick a facelift

Wanna battle, I'm all for it

When it comes to this, I've been through more shit than a toilet

Now we could get wild and search for peace

Cause right now I'm chillin', like the nigga home on work

release

And even on a lover tip I'll still wax brothers quick

When I do my thing I be on some old other shit

Niggas I slaughter, just to bring order

Aw fuck it, my shit be flowing like spring water

It's like that, y'all, check it out now

(Yeah yeah, now check the method) (Repeat 2x)

Now it's the dictator whose style's greater

It's the man with more flavors than motherfucking Now &

Laters

And rappers I hit 'em well

They automatically go to heaven fucking with me, I give 'em hell

Yeah, so don't try to front, troop

When your style is played out like an Osh-Kosh jumpsuit

Huh, I'm out to collect figures

I'm on some Wu-Tang shit, so protect your fucking neck, nigga

I don't front like a man on a high horse

But yo, I make more noise than July 4th

So run, son, I ain't the one, bum, who dial 911

If you don't, you's a motherfucking dumb dumb

I'm not a role model, I'm a bad figure

When it comes to rap, I got skills out the ass, nigga

I got it locked like a warden

Rap without Finesse, that's like the NBA without Jordan

So all you new jacks kicking wack raps it's a fact that

I'll be on your fucking back like a napsack

It ain't shit you can tell me

Cause the ladies still jel me without an LP

It's like that, y'all, check it out now

(Yeah yeah, now check the method) (Repeat 4x)

It's like that y'all, and I keep figures

It's the hardcore ruffneck funky type of street nigga

Lord Finesse got the swift rap and

You don't need Dionne Warwick and them psychic friends to

predict that

In years to come I'm bound to shine

Give me a mic and a minute, I'll show niggas I get down for mine

Word life, you know the haps

Fucking with me is like bungee jumping with no rope attached

Man listen, I got plenty rhymes

When it comes to props, motherfucks just oughta gimme mine

Word, cause I slay ya fast

Whether you're the best MC with a mic, or you're straight up

trash

My lyrics excel, hops

From the ghetto street upstate to motherfucking cell blocks

No dought I got clout

I gotta give a shout (To who?) To my brother Show when I'm out

It's like that, y'all, check it out now

(Yeah yeah, now check the method) (Repeat 4x)