Текстове на песни: Redman. I Got a Secret.

Damn, ladies and gentlemen
I got a secret
(What's that?)
Somebody told me yo' ass stink
Don't blame me

Hah, what, huh, ah, one, two, three, four
Huh, huh, yo, huh, yo yo yo yo yo yo
(Come here baby)
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo huh

Yea yo yea, these metaphors be broad
Take the shanks out of shaw redemption and hold it to your jaw
Climb aboard, jump out the ninety-ninth floor
That bitch on the salt box, know when I rain I pour

Shoot up the Mardi Grass with double chrome forty-fours
Full up plates, 'cause someone I'm ready to take yours
Jungle music got my mind and body stimulatin'
Hyperventilation, you're talk of the town like date raping

Call me the Doc Caucasians spot, The Beatles
Malfunction in the S L board without the E Q
Fuck, fuck, fuck bitch I'll bust a nut all over that gut
Buck, buck, buck soufle you lay you then I'm hittin' that clutch

It's where the blacks rub, what, fuck your back up
My dubs be filled with dust when I bust you definitely feel
The rapture ha ha ha hah ha hah
Ai yo! Do what I feel what I feel, see what I see son

Break your neck secretly blown, tali co style doc
Trace the sketch according to verbal recordin' hot

Bricks underground detox fuck up farm crops
Yo beautiful, cut the cabbage and sell it as pharmaceuticals

I react the baddest juvenile bite off his cuticles
I'm stone, to the bone, flip poems that roam further
I serve the murder then beef it to hamburger

I'm only kidding
Knowin' godamn well that's hard to spit
Fans call me mix tape arsonist, marvelous, in the hood
Everyday, wanna star check an astrologist

Fuck, fuck, fuck bitch I'll bust a nut all over that gut
Buck, buck, buck soufle you lay you then I'm hittin' that clutch
You know, papi chulo with the fucked up grammar
So much Spanish ass, niggaz think I own Copa Cabana

Shot up Santa, got more tools than, Hanna Barbara, check it
The clues I left was hard for cops to etch a sketch it
Serial killer that tracks pussy in every borough
Kidnap ya, tie ya down, drug ya, kiss the girls

Klack automatics no matter the pressure the static, klack
I blow you by two miles, cut my licence hit the hazards
Fatal, duck in' from pussy police in lesables
Biggest thing since getting earrings pierced in your navel

High, funk doc, roni size keep the herb twistin'
And now get the Ampegs real hot like jerk chicken
Ha ha, alright one more time