• Under Construction
    Seznam skladeb na albu
  • Under Construction

    Bring The Pain

    Bring the pain

    Basically, can't fuck with me

    Verse One:

    I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain
    Let's go inside my astral plane
    Find out my mental's based on instrumental
    records hey, so I can write monumental
    Methods, I'm not the King
    But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM
    check it, just how deep can shit get
    Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it
    In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over
    Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross
    Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side
    And I'm the dark side of the Force
    Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan
    I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it
    Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus
    Bustin at me bruh, now bust it
    Styles, I gets buckwild
    Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files
    I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy
    Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze


    Is it real son, is it really real son
    Let me know it's real son, if it's really real
    Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one
    Want it raw deal son, if it's really real

    Interlude: Booster

    And when I was a lil stereo (stereo)
    I listened to some champion (champion)
    I always wondered (wondered)
    Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha)
    Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!)
    And de gargon summary
    And any man dat come test me (test me)
    Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that)

    Verse Two:

    Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope
    the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke
    off the set comin to your projects
    Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise
    Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit
    Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit
    And it's gonna get even worse word to God
    It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments
    Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth
    Came to represent and carve my name in your chest
    You can come test realize you're no contest
    Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West
    Quick on the draw with my hands on the four
    nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore
    Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper
    Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof
    Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw
    When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw
    I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns
    Enough to give my chest hairs a perm
    I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe
    All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo'

    What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style
    Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me*
    Northern spicy brown mustard hoes
    We have to stick you
    *horn sound of car racing by*



    I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off
    and make you kneel in some staircase piss

    I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off
    and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills

    You motherfuckers
    (So???) So fuck the hoe
    Fuck the hoe

    (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...)

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