[Hook]
Yeah yeah, now check the method
Yeah yeah, now check the method
Yeah yeah, now check the method
Yeah yeah, now check the method

[Verse 1: No I.D]
No time to get all excited, just write it
From the inside let the pen slide, and spread
The ink on the papyrus, come understand this (what?)
Paint the canvas, givin' you my vision
To mold you, compose you
Get a picture of the scene, then get an exposure
Words out my cipher, the life of my circle
Pain trapped inside of me, Cabrini to Ida B., don't lie to me
You want me in your needle
Squirt me in your vein, maintain on the couch
I excite your brain til I'm out of your system
Beat digger, not a n***a or a n***aro
I figure you're the winner of the bread
Precede your thoughts 'fore they come into your head
(Yo, kid kinda nice)
From the word, I speak, unique, clear and concise
Heads I'm boring, soaring to a new height of flight
And then fight the night
With a light to gain sight make your competition say aight
No I.D. from the city with a beach on thirty-first
Making all butt crews disperse
I'm in my own world
[Hook]
Yeah yeah, now check the method
Yeah yeah, now check the method
Yeah yeah, now check the method
Yeah yeah, now check the method

[Verse 2: Common]
I say pay attention boy, I say uk look at here
I want you to see me; when you do, you look in fear
I dilate pupils that's cornea than a retina
My Book of Life you felt it, because of the texture
When I'm bubbly I call the ex ta, see if she still love me
I'm advanced like a copy studs be on my sac to dub me
Cheap ass n***as, go and purchase it
I ain't do all this work for shit
My style's my child I gave birth to it
Like an immaculate conception, clean I came
Went through label pains, didn't give shorty a name
I put, bros before hoes that's the way love and life goes
It's a Jungle out there but I'm never Fever-in for them white hoes
I love black thighs, you sisters better realize
The real hair and real eyes get real guys
So before you makeup your face, you better make up your mind
I hope you wake up in time for the revolution, or you gon' be like
"I can't believe it! I got shot!"
Bowe, so I lick one, not for Riddick
But I got the Rid, for my dick
And the crab MC's that be all over it
Huh, what good is the Rid without the comb?
I'm the street pick peace to Nick, Tim, Mark and Kendall
I remember me and Dion tried to get into Mendel
I didn't have No I.D., they wouldn't let me in
Now them same gumps be askin' me to get them in
I be like, "You don't know me... fool"
And color him purple (why?), 'cause he ain't in my circle
Now I'm talkin' square biz to you and I'm out
I'm in my own world