Bring the Pain (New Wave)

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? Deeper than your fists And brothers is mad pissed, accept it In your cross color Clothes you crossed over And 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 So bust it at me, son Now bust it Stylez, I get buck wild Method Man on some shit Fuckin' niggas foul, son I'm sick Insane crazy, drivin' Miss Daisy How the fuck am I? Now I got mine, I'm Swayzee Is it real, son? Is it really real, son? Lemme know it's real, son If it's really real Something I can feel, son Load it up and kill one Wonderin' the deal, son If it's really real When I was a little stereo (stereo) I used to be the champion (ooh) I always wonder (wonder) When I will be the number one (ooh) And now you listen to me, Gargon (gargon) And the Gargon summary And all you niggas come and test me (test me) I'm gonna lick out your brains Mothers 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' like a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga, you can bet your bottom dollar that I'm on it And it's gonna get even worse Word to god, it's the Wu Comin' through Taking niggas 'fore they're gone Movin' to your left (Mr Meth!) 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 Nine-three-eleven with the rugged 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 straw When you give it to me, yeah Give it to me raw 'Cause I burn When you drink absolute straight It burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need no chemical blow to pull a ho All I need is chemical bank (to pay the bitch!) Is it real, son? Is it really real, son? Lemme know it's real, son If it's really real Something I can feel, son Load it up and kill one Wonderin' the deal, son If it's really real Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes Fuck the hoes