Lemme tell you now:
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I came to bring the pain, hardcore from the brain.
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Let's go inside my astral plane.
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Find out my mental based on instrumental
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records, hey so I can write monumental
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methods. I'm not the king, but niggaz is decaf
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I stick 'em for the cream, check it.
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Just how deep can shit get? Get deeper than your fists.
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And brothers is mad, pissed, accept it.
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In your cross color, clothes are crossed over,
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Now ya totally crossed out. And Kriss kross.
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Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to da side,
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And I'm the dark side of the force, of course.
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It's the method man from the Wu-tang Clan,
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I be hectic and comin' for that headpiece, protect it.
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Fuck it, two tears in a bucket,
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Niggaz want the ruckus? So bust it at me, son. Now bust it.
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Styles, I get buckwild. Method man on some shit.
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Fuckin' niggaz, foul, son, I'm sick.
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Is it real, son? Lemme know it's real, son. If its really real, son, lemme know it's real.
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Load it up and kill one,
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Load it up and kill one,
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Load it up and kill one,
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If it's really real.
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When I was a little stereo, I used to be the champion. ( Ooo hoo hoo )
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I always wonder when I will be the number one. ( Hey, hey, hey )
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And now you listen to me, Darcon. Darcon.
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And all you niggaz come and test me? Test me.
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I'm gonna lick out your brains.
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Mothers wanna hang with the meth, bring the rope,
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'Cos the only way you hang is by the neck,
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Nigga, bump off a set.
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Comin' through all your projects,
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Take it as a threat or better yet, it is a promise.
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Comin' like a vet on some old Vietnam shit,
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You can bet your bottom dollar that I'm on it.
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And it'll get even worse, word to God, it's the Wu.
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Comin' through, takin' niggaz 'fore they're gone, gone.
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Movin' to your left,
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I came to represent and carve my name within your chest.
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You can come test, realise it's no contest, son.
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I'm the gun who won that old Wild West.
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Quick on the draw with my hands on the floor,
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Lovin' all those goddamn monkey rhymes galore,
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Check it, 'cos I think not when it's hip hop like proper
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rhymes be the proof when I'm drinkin' ninety proof vodka.
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No OJ, no. No straw.
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When you give it to me, yeah, give it to me raw, I burn.
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Give it to me raw, I burn.
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Chest hair.
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I don't need no chemical blow to pull no ho, no.
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All I need is chemical bank to pay her up.
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I don't need no chemical blow to pull no ho, no.
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All I need is chemical bank to pay her up.
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Is it real, son? Lemme know it's real, son.
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Is it real, son? Lemme know it's real, son. If its really real, son, lemme know it's one, two, three, four,
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Kill one, fuck it up and kill one.
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Fuck it up and kill one.
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Lemme know it's real.
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-----------------
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Bring The Pineapple(remix of Bring The Pain)
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| Mindless Self Indulgence |
