"Stick Me For My Riches" lyrics

[Gerald Alston:]
Ooh-wee
Mm, mm-mm-mm-mm, mm-mm, mm-mm
Yeah, ah, ah

See I was raised out on these mean streets
I'm from the projects, right where poverty and hell meet
I'm searching everyday to find a better way, I've gotta
Hustle still to get my pay before I hit bottom
Now, some might say that I'm already there
But who are they to judge or question what I do, son?
So I don't care
Tired of eating cheese sandwiches with no meat
Tired of watching all the players from the same seat
So it's a life of crime; some might sing or rhyme
To escape the ghetto before the flatline
Choices to make, what am I gonna do?
Got to use my talents—they gonna pull me through

Now, with success, I become a target
They wanna set me up
I guess more money equals more problems
They wanna get me, wanna hit me, strip me of my riches
Ooh, ooh, ooh
They wanna cut me up in pieces, leave me deep in ditches
Yeah, ah
And I can't take it (Mm, mm-mm, mm)
But I'm gonna make it (Yeah)
Ohhh, oh-oh-oh
Fight to stay alive

[Method Man:]
I was raised out on these mean s-streets
You know, where poverty and hell meet
Brothers get jail, and life's for sale, cheap
Since Mama held me in her arms
To tell me that it's a cold world, I done held heat
And held myself down, lot of bodies and shells found
And niggas into taking everything that ain't nailed down
We fell down
Ain't hard to tell now
I ain't trying to see the cell now
Or see momma put her house up for bail now
So I'ma give all I got to try and get that guap
Nigga, I'm hot with this hustle—go 'head and get the cops
I use my talent to get more figures
Unlike these lil' cornerstore niggas
Go change your drawers, niggas

[Method Man (Gerald Alston) {Method Man & Gerald Alston} *Inspectah Deck*:]
Now, with success, and I've become a target
They wanna set me up, take me hostage (Mm, yeah)
Or take me down some notches
{They wanna hit me, wanna stick me, get me for my riches}
{They wanna diss me, wanna clip me, leave me stiff in ditches}
(And I can't take it)
This ain't no game; my life ain't nothing to play with
(No, no, but I'm gonna make it)
Face it: Money is power, and I'ma make it, make it
(Yeah, ha! I'm gonna make it, ooh-ooh)
*Yeah, we gon' survive, yo*
Yeah, okay

[Inspectah Deck:]
In my city, gritty blocks; little love, plenty cops
Few rise, many drop; True Lies, semis cocked
Fishscale already rocked; heavy shots that we drop
New guys on every block; blue eyes and red dots
Pregnant mothers, broke fathers; more money, more problems
So hungry, won't starve 'em; work hard and, so, pardon—
I got mouths to feed, I got pounds of weed
I need some more, another store, another house's deed
An X amount of G's: the reason pounds'll squeeze
And strip you naked, basic, tryna make it out the P's
Don't ever doubt a G, and have me spazz like
'Face with the K, and my nose all powdery
It ain't about the streets; it's 'bout the beast within
That won't give in to 'lice, down to bleed, and see

[Inspectah Deck (Gerald Alston) {Inspectah Deck & Gerald Alston} *RZA*:]
{Now with success and I've become a target}
They wanna set me up, take me hostage (Mm, yeah)
Or take me down some notches
{They wanna hit me, wanna stick me, get me for my riches}
{They wanna diss me, wanna clip me leave me stiff in ditches}
(And I can't take it) *Yeah*
(No, no, but I'm gonna make it)
*Yeah, yeah, turn the beat up a little right here*
(Yeah, I'm gonna make it, oooh)
*Yo, yo, yo, yeah, yo, just, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang*

[RZA:]
A-yo, RZA, Meth, GZA, Deck; Ghost and Chef be cashing checks
Killa Cap be snapping necks; Street and 'Zilla flash the Tec
Sacrifice a savage life if he tryna bag my ice
Tag a price on merchandise—tell me, is it worth ya life? (No)

[Gerald Alston:]
It's a cold, cold, cold world
You can't be playing games with my life
I've gotta fight to survive, fight to stay alive

[RZA:]
A-yo, metal pipes ignite, sparking fire, light the darkness night
Trying to stick me for my riches, now y'all bitches taking flight
Major business, raise the digits, tried to strike me for my life
Slice and dice, men or mice, GZA tell 'em what it's like

[GZA:]
A-yo, money making, people flaking, Cash Rules, fuck the bacon
Earth's quaking, head is aching, bank stop, dice shaking
Times are hard, so are jobs, scheming niggas wanna rob
Use a hoe to slob ya knob, hit you with unruly mobs
Stab you in the back and smile, watch you bleed for a while
Hating on the agile, steal ya name and bite ya style
Hold you for a ransom note, Goliath cutting David's throat
Grab ya vest, abandon boat and leave you out at sea to float

[GZA & Gerald Alston:]
Now with success and I've become a target
They wanna set me up
I guess more money equals more problems
They wanna hit me, wanna stick me, get me for my riches
They wanna diss me, want clip me, leave me stiff in ditches

[Gerald Alston:]
And I can't take it
No, no, but I'm gonna make it
Yeah, oh, I'm gonna make it, ooh, yeah
It's a cold, cold, cold world
I got my hand on my gun, they got a brother on the run
Yeah, it's a cold, cold, cold world
You can't be playing games with my life
I've gotta fight to survive, fight to stay alive
This ain't a game, this is my life
Keep pushing me to the edge, I'm gonna push back
And you won't like that, it's guaranteed you won't like that
When ya laid down, laid flat