Method Man - Bring the Pain lyrics
[Method Man - Bring the Pain lyrics]
Basically can't fuck with me
I came to bring the pain
Hardcore from the brain
Let's go inside my astral plane
Find out my mental, based on instrumental
Records, hey so I can write monumental
Methods, I'm not the king
But niggas 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 Krossed
Who the boss? Niggas 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
Niggas want the ruckus
Bustin' at me, bruh, now bust it
Styles, I gets buckwild
Method Man on some shit
Pullin' niggas files, i'm sick
Insane, crazy, driving Miss Daisy
Out her fucking 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, yeah, uh
When I was a likle stereo (Stereo)
I listen to some Champion (Champion)
I always wondered (Wondered)
When I will be di number one (Tical)
And now yuh listen to di Gorgon (Gorgon)
And a Gorgon sound a Rein
An' any jump and come tes' mi (Test me)
Mi a-go lick out dem brain (it’s like that)
Brothers wanna hang with the Meth
Bring the rope
The only way you'll hang is by the neck
Nigga, bolt 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
Stickin' niggas for they garments
Movin' on your left, southpaw, Mr 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, ayy
Give it to me raw
I've learned that 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 ho
All I need is Chemical Bank to pay the roll
What, basically that, Meth Tical, '94 style
(Northern spicy brown mustard hoes, word up
We be hazardous) we have to stick you
Is it real, son, is it really real, son?
(Motherfucker, I'll fuckin')
Let me know it's real, son
If it's really real
(Slide you down a rusty razor blade
Into a pool of alcohol)
Something I could feel, son
Load it up and kill one
Want it raw deal, son, if it's really real
I'll fuckin'
I'll fuckin' cut your kneecaps off
And make you kneel at some staircase, piss
I'll fuckin' cut your eyelids off and
Feed you nothin' but sleepin' pills
Get yours, motherfucker
So fuck the ho, fuck the ho
I came to bring the pain
Hardcore from the brain
Let's go inside my astral plane
Find out my mental, based on instrumental
Records, hey so I can write monumental
Methods, I'm not the king
But niggas 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 Krossed
Who the boss? Niggas 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
Niggas want the ruckus
Bustin' at me, bruh, now bust it
Styles, I gets buckwild
Method Man on some shit
Pullin' niggas files, i'm sick
Insane, crazy, driving Miss Daisy
Out her fucking 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, yeah, uh
When I was a likle stereo (Stereo)
I listen to some Champion (Champion)
I always wondered (Wondered)
When I will be di number one (Tical)
And now yuh listen to di Gorgon (Gorgon)
And a Gorgon sound a Rein
An' any jump and come tes' mi (Test me)
Mi a-go lick out dem brain (it’s like that)
Brothers wanna hang with the Meth
Bring the rope
The only way you'll hang is by the neck
Nigga, bolt 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
Stickin' niggas for they garments
Movin' on your left, southpaw, Mr 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, ayy
Give it to me raw
I've learned that 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 ho
All I need is Chemical Bank to pay the roll
What, basically that, Meth Tical, '94 style
(Northern spicy brown mustard hoes, word up
We be hazardous) we have to stick you
Is it real, son, is it really real, son?
(Motherfucker, I'll fuckin')
Let me know it's real, son
If it's really real
(Slide you down a rusty razor blade
Into a pool of alcohol)
Something I could feel, son
Load it up and kill one
Want it raw deal, son, if it's really real
I'll fuckin'
I'll fuckin' cut your kneecaps off
And make you kneel at some staircase, piss
I'll fuckin' cut your eyelids off and
Feed you nothin' but sleepin' pills
Get yours, motherfucker
So fuck the ho, fuck the ho