| Song | Creepin' |
| Artist | Redman |
| Album | Muddy Waters |
| All my country, funky, brother, motherfuckers | |
| Verse one： | |
| To my, no good niggaz, and my, no good bitches | |
| Sorry if i left somebody leavin out with stitches | |
| Seems y'all too bold for ya britches | |
| Enslaved your mind like cotton pickers for runnin wit some rotten niggaz | |
| I get raw to the core with hardcore metaphors | |
| Resevoir dog style, truly yours | |
| Yes, i be the slug up in your chest | |
| Then you wonder why you can't feel the full strength of ciggarettes | |
| My nationality is, brutality | |
| I got the gun up under your leather nigga so walk casually | |
| You'd be surprised how much info you can get | |
| For a bottle of crack to find yo' punk ass and yo' kinfolks | |
| Plus, that crew you run with is butt | |
| I was dusted one day when i made your man choke up | |
| Rappers comin to new jersey and be gettin fucked up | |
| Talkin about where they from and shit when dem sons ain't runnin shit | |
| And go off a bit if you do a show in da bricks | |
| You'd swear you was fly and how we bring so much turbulence | |
| I keep your nervous level high nigga | |
| You better kiss your son and daughter, tell em bye nigga | |
| When we creep | |
| Verse two: | |
| I give respect to all my woolly niggaz with the rolex | |
| Shinin briquettes, flashin cash and dumpin moets | |
| Especially when my royalty check is late, i don't hesitate | |
| I scoop up keith, and see who's flashin at the palla- | |
| -dium, hide your weed niggaz cause here i come | |
| Lookin bummy for low profile, so loud mc's overlook me | |
| I slip the bartender some more | |
| Just to tell me [how much cash and dom p you pour] | |
| Huh, i should start robbin rappers in the industry | |
| If we ain't clickin then i'm engineerin your injuries | |
| Forty-eight tracks of automatics and facts | |
| Lyrically splat-datted till your mentality blacks | |
| And i don't give a fuck if you did thirty bids | |
| Still i bring ecstasy like i'm the rapper jaleel | |
| Blaow blaow blaow, lickin shots for your fuckin | |
| Mind, i got you niggaz duckin out like i'm one-time | |
| Or five-oh, po-po, i drive hoes nutty | |
| Like i be doin security at my live shows | |
| Your a&r is a punk, he got you gassed | |
| When i brutally smash any contender in my weight class | |
| Aiyyo twinz yo this nigga got jewels | |
| (hold that nigga while i rob this fool) | |
| When we creep |
| All my country, funky, brother, motherfuckers | |
| Verse one: | |
| To my, no good niggaz, and my, no good bitches | |
| Sorry if i left somebody leavin out with stitches | |
| Seems y' all too bold for ya britches | |
| Enslaved your mind like cotton pickers for runnin wit some rotten niggaz | |
| I get raw to the core with hardcore metaphors | |
| Resevoir dog style, truly yours | |
| Yes, i be the slug up in your chest | |
| Then you wonder why you can' t feel the full strength of ciggarettes | |
| My nationality is, brutality | |
| I got the gun up under your leather nigga so walk casually | |
| You' d be surprised how much info you can get | |
| For a bottle of crack to find yo' punk ass and yo' kinfolks | |
| Plus, that crew you run with is butt | |
| I was dusted one day when i made your man choke up | |
| Rappers comin to new jersey and be gettin fucked up | |
| Talkin about where they from and shit when dem sons ain' t runnin shit | |
| And go off a bit if you do a show in da bricks | |
| You' d swear you was fly and how we bring so much turbulence | |
| I keep your nervous level high nigga | |
| You better kiss your son and daughter, tell em bye nigga | |
| When we creep | |
| Verse two: | |
| I give respect to all my woolly niggaz with the rolex | |
| Shinin briquettes, flashin cash and dumpin moets | |
| Especially when my royalty check is late, i don' t hesitate | |
| I scoop up keith, and see who' s flashin at the palla | |
| dium, hide your weed niggaz cause here i come | |
| Lookin bummy for low profile, so loud mc' s overlook me | |
| I slip the bartender some more | |
| Just to tell me how much cash and dom p you pour | |
| Huh, i should start robbin rappers in the industry | |
| If we ain' t clickin then i' m engineerin your injuries | |
| Fortyeight tracks of automatics and facts | |
| Lyrically splatdatted till your mentality blacks | |
| And i don' t give a fuck if you did thirty bids | |
| Still i bring ecstasy like i' m the rapper jaleel | |
| Blaow blaow blaow, lickin shots for your fuckin | |
| Mind, i got you niggaz duckin out like i' m onetime | |
| Or fiveoh, popo, i drive hoes nutty | |
| Like i be doin security at my live shows | |
| Your a r is a punk, he got you gassed | |
| When i brutally smash any contender in my weight class | |
| Aiyyo twinz yo this nigga got jewels | |
| hold that nigga while i rob this fool | |
| When we creep |