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Method Man, Carlo Bess - Bring The Pain (Remix)

Bring The Pain
Method Man, Carlo Bess
03:25
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Song lyrics

[Verse 1]
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,
Jack it, just how deep can shit get,
Deep as the abyss, and brothers is mad fish, accept it.
In your Cross Colours clothes you've crossed over,
Then got totally crossed out and criss-crossed.
Who the boss? Niggas 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,
Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggas want the ruckus,
Bustin' at me, bruh, now bust it.
Styles, I gets buck wild,
Method Man on some shit, pullin' niggas 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:]
And when I was a lil stereo,
I listened to some champion,
I always wondered
Will now I be the numba one?
Now you listen to di dragon,
And di dragon summary.
And any man dat come test me,
Me gwunna lick out dem brains.

[Verse 2:]
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, stickin' niggas 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, ay, 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 no chemical blow to pull a ho,
All I need is Chemical Bank to pay the mo'.

What? Basically that. Meth. Tical. Ninety-four style.
Word up, we be hazardous!
Northern spicy brown mustard hoes,
We have to stick you.

[Chorus]

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 nothing but sleeping pills.

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