Method Man Bring the Pain Lyrics

Basically, can't f___ with me

Verse One:

I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain
Let's go inside my astral plane
Find out my mental's based on instrumental
records hey, so I can write monumental
Methods, I'm not the King
But n____z is decaf I stick em for the CREAM
check it, just how deep can s___ 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 Kross
Who da boss? n____z 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
f___ it, two tears in a bucket, n____z want the ruckus
Bustin at me bruh, now bust it
Styles, I gets buckwild
Method Man on some s___, pullin n____z files
I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy
Out her f___in mind now I got mine I'm Swayze

Chorus:

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

Interlude: Booster

And 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 summary
And 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 rope
the only way you hang is by the neck n____ poke
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 s___
n____ you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb s___
And it's gonna get even worse word to God
It's the Wu comin through sickin n____z for they garments
Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the 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 aiy, give it to me raw
I've learned 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 hoe
All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo'

What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style
Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me*
Northern spicy brown mustard hoes
We have to stick you
*horn sound of car racing by*

Chorus
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

Outro:

I'll f___in, I'll f___in cut your kneecaps off
and make you kneel in some staircase p___

I'll f___in, cut your eyelids off
and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills

You m_________ers
(So???) So f___ the hoe
f___ the hoe

(Look at this n____, this m_________in...)