Hey, you, get off my cloud

Hey, you, get off my cloud You don't know me and you don't know my style Who be gettin flam when they come to a jam? Here I am here I am, the Method Man Patty cake patty cake hey the method man Don't eat Skippy, Jif or Peter Pan Peanut butter, cuz I'm not butter In fact I snap back like a rubber band, I be Sam Sam I am And I dont eat green eggs and ham Style will hit ya, wham!, then goddamn You be like oh shit that's the jam Turn it up now hear me get buckwu-wu-wild I'm about to blow light me up Upside downside inside and outside Hittin you from every angle there's no doubt I am, the one and only Method Man The master of the plan wrappin shit like Saran Wrap, with some of this and some of that Hold up (what?) I tawt I tat I putty tat Over there, but I think he best to beware Of the diggy dog shit right here Y 2000 ippy yippy yay yippy yah yippy yo Like Deck said this aint your average flow