Soundtracks - Method Man - Bring Da 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***az is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check it, just how deep can sh** 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***az 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***az want the ruckus Bustin at me bruh, now bust it Styles, I gets buckwild Method Man on some sh**, pullin n***az 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 k** 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***a 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 sh** n***a you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb sh** And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin through sickin n***az 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 pa**ing me* Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you [horn sound of car racing by] [Chorus] [Outro:] I'll f**in, I'll f**in cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll f**in, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You motherf**ers (So??) So f** the hoe f** the hoe (Look at this n***a, this motherf**in...)