Bring The Pain

Basically, can't fuck 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 niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM 
check it, just how deep can shit 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? Niggaz get tossed to the sideAnd 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 
Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus 
Bustin at me bruh, now bust it 
Styles, I gets buckwild 
Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files 
I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy 
Out her fuckin 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 nigga 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 shit 
Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit 
And it's gonna get even worse word to God 
It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz 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 permI 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 hoesWe have to stick you 
*horn sound of car racing by* 

Chorus & Outro: 
I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off 
and make you kneel in some staircase piss 
I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off 
and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills 
You motherfuckers(So???) So fuck the hoe 
Fuck the hoe(Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...)