Method Man - Bring The Pain Lyrics
(he keeps talks to the class)Basically (***** you) can't ***** with meVerse one:I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brainLet's go inside my astral planeFind out my mental's based on instrumentalRecords hey, so i could write monumentalMethods, i'm not the kingBut niggaz is decaf i stick em for the creamCheck it, just how deep can shit getDeep as the abyss and brothers is mad just accept itIn your cross colour, clothes you've crossed overThen got totally crossed out like kris krossWho da boss? niggaz get tossed to the sideAnd i'm the dark side of the forceOf course it's the method, man from the wu-tang clanI be hectic, and coming for the head piece protect it***** it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckusBustin at me punk now bust itStyles, i gets buckwildMethod man on some shit, pullin niggaz filesI'm sick, insane crazy, drivin miss daisyOut her *****in mind now i got mine i'm swayzeChorus:Is it real son, is it really real sonLet me know it's real son, if it's really realSomething i could feel son, load it up and kill oneWant it raw deal son, if it's really realInterlude: booster(the booster!)And when i was a lil stereoI listened to some championI always wonderedWill now i be the numba one?Now you listen to de gargonAnd de gargon summaryAnd any man dat come test meMe gwanna lick out dem brainsVerse two:Brothers want to hang with the meth bring the ropeThe only way you hang is by the neck nigga pokeOff the set comin to your projectsTake it as a threat, better yet it's a promiseComin from a vet on some old vietnam shitNigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey i bomb shitAnd it's gonna get even worse word to godIt's the wu comin through vickin niggaz for they garmentsMovin on your left, southpaw em it's the methCame to represent and carve my name in your chestYou can come test realize you're no contestSon i'm the gun that won that old wild westQuick on the draw with my hands on the fourNine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galoreCheck it cause i think not when it's hip-hop like properRhymes be the proof when i'm drinkin 90 proofHuh vodka, no oj, no strawWhen you give it to me yeah, give it to me rawI've learned that when you drink absolut straight it burnsEnough to give my chest hairs a permI don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoeAll i need is chemical bank to pay the moOutro:Basically you're left with meth-tical{northern spicy brown mustard hoes} coming with ticalAnd when you see it happen, you stick emPuttin def jam's on my records, it's onI'll *****in, slide you down a rusty razor-bladeInto a pool of alcohol(alright bring it back)I'll *****in, i'll *****in, cut your kneecaps offAnd make you kneel in some staircase pissI'll *****in (that nigga got his but cut)Cut your eyelids off (and served by the cube)And feed you nothing but sleeping pills (like a cool cubanOut this mother*****er... he got a half a joint, and one eyebrow)(yeah and rae got a shell-toe)You mother*****er(one shell-toe adidas on his feet)(sooooo????) so ***** the hoe***** the hoeLook at this nigga, this mother*****in, shoe-lookinBaby spicy mustard, shoe-lookin!
