Bring the Pain

Lemme tell you now I came to bring the pain, hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental (uh) Based on instrumental (oh) 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? Get deeper than your fists And brothers is mad pissed, accept it In your cross color clothes you crossed over Now ya totally crossed out (and kriss-krossed) Who tha boss? Niggas get tossed to tha 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 that headpiece, protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket Niggas want the ruckus? Yo, bust it at me son, now bust it Styles, I get buck-wild, Method Man on some shit Fuckin' niggas foul, son I'm sick Insane crazy, drivin' Miss Daisy Out her fuckin' mind, now I got mine, I'm Swayze Is it real, son? Lemme know it's real, son If it's really real, son Lemme know it's real Load it up and kill one Load it up and kill one Load it up and kill one If it's really real When I was a little stereo, I used to be the champion (oh, oh, oh) I always wondered (oh) When I would be the number one (hey, hey, hey) And now you listen to me, Darcon Darcon And- And all you niggas come and test me, test me I'm gonna lick out your brains Brothers wanna hang with the Meth, bring the rope 'Cause the only way you hang is by the neck Nigga bump off a set Comin' through all your projects Take it as a threat or better yet, it is a promise Comin' from a vet on some old Vietnam shit You can bet your bottom dollar that I'm on it (yeah) And it'll get even worse, word to God It's the Wu, comin' through takin' niggas 'fore they're Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone Movin' to your left I came to represent and carve my name within your chest You can come test, realize it's no contest, son I'm the gun who won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the floor Lovin' all those goddamn monkey rhymes galore Check it, 'cause I think not when it's hip-hop-like proper Rhymes be the proof when I'm drinkin' ninety proof vodka No OJ, no, no straw When you give it to me, yeah Give it to me raw, I burn Give it to me raw, I burn Chest hair I don't need no chemical blow to pull no ho (no) All I need is Chemical Bank to pay her up Is it real, son? Lemme know it's real, son If its really real, son Lemme know it's One, two, three, four Kill one, fuck it up and kill one Fuck it up and kill one Let me know it's real