Rukus - Special Ed

I break pens, make ends

Fake friends smile up

While I rip a style up

But I know the real ones

Who steal guns

And jooks to crooks, C-k-l-y-n

See, they be dyin

Daily, rarely do they make it to the news

New suit, no shoes, no clues

I mind my business, you better mind yours

I’m steppin to jaws

So get the gores for the cause

Laws ain’t made for a nigga, pid tax-free

So they wanna find out where the cracks be

So they run up, gun up, wanna touch us

They must be lookin for the rukus

(Here come the rukus, the muthafuckin rukus)

(Here come the rukus, the muthafuckin rukus)

(Here come the rukus, the muthafuckin rukus)

(Here come the…)

(Shotgun, slammin in your chest piece — plow!) --] Method Man

Now I’m back on the block stuck

Shit outta luck

I need some dead men, they keep me alive in '95

Gotta eat, got a street, let’s pump it

Blow that shit up like a trumpet

No doubt, baby, maybe when they be thinkin

Shit is dead, we split his head, hit his crib

Yo, fuck that, my nigga Big I just did his bid

We need a steady flow, ready-go, get the ifth

Let me hit the spliff, let’s do this

Yo, tell em who dis, the rudest

Like a nudist I got no shame

I put the flame to your perimeter claim

Fuck po-po, I smoke em like cocoa

In fronto pronto

As I go on to

The next order of business

I’m sellin crisness over bridges

National, unrational, yet everything works out

Every hour on the hour, another bag of flour

I got the Kryptonite that’ll take away your power

(Here come the rukus, the muthafuckin rukus)

(Here come the rukus, the muthafuckin rukus)

(Here come the rukus, the muthafuckin rukus)

(Here come the…)

(Shotgun, slammin in your chest piece — plow!) --] Method Man

They wanna put me in a institution

For distribution, solution

Prostitution — trick

D’s wanna seize ki’s, ease off the brick

My brother caught a body, but the rap won’t stick

They want names, people play games like poker

I got the joker and the ace, the smoker in the waist

Under fire cook the cocoa to the base

Easy money, bee’s honey, sweet, brick city street

Cold flip with the whole strip, deep

Gettin z’s yet I never sleep

I be up, I re-up, and then I transact

My man’s packed, I do too

So if they don’t shoot you, then I will

So you die still

Either way I take your breather away

So I guess you better leave away

This ???

or get the clapper

I know how to make muthafuckas scatter

(Here come the rukus, the muthafuckin rukus)

(Here come the rukus, the muthafuckin rukus)

(Here come the rukus, the muthafuckin rukus)

(Here come the…)

(Shotgun, slammin in your chest piece — plow!) --] Method Man