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Method Man

Bring the Pain

  hip-hop  rap  wu-tang  hip hop  new york
184,00 прямо сейчас

Текст песни Method Man - Bring the Pain

Method Man - Bring the Pain слова песни

Basically, can`t fuck 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 can 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 fish accept itIn your Cross Colour, clothes you`ve crossed overThen got Totally Krossed Out and 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 comin for the head piece protect itFuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckusBustin at me bruh, now bust itStyles, I gets buckwildMethod Man on some shit, pullin niggaz filesI`m sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss DaisyOut her fuckin 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: BoosterAnd 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 summaryAnd 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 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 sickin 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 this hip-hops like properRhymes be the proof while I`m drinkin 90 proofHuh vodka, no OJ, no strawWhen you give it to me aiy, give it to me rawI`ve learned 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 da mo`What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four styleWord up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me*Northern spicy brown mustard hoesWe have to stick you*horn sound of car racing by*ChorusOutro:I`ll fuckin, I`ll fuckin cut your kneecaps offand make you kneel in some staircase pissI`ll fuckin, cut your eyelids offand feed you nuthin but sleepin pillsYou motherfuckers(So???) So fuck the hoeFuck the hoe(Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...)

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