Letra de Bring The Pain

(Lemme tell you now)
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
Method, I'm not the king
But niggas is decaf, I stick 'em for the C.R.E.A.M
Check it

Just how deep can shit get
Get deeper than your fists
And brothers is mad, pissed
Accept it

In your Cross Color
Clothes you crossed over
Now you're Totally Krossed Out
Like Kris Kross

Who da boss?
Niggas get tossed to da 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 that headpiece
Protect it

Fuck it
Two tears in a bucket
Niggas want the ruckus?
Yo, bust it at me, son
Now bust it

Styles
I get buck wild, Method Man!
On some shit, fuckin' niggas
Foul, son, I'm sick

Insane crazy
Drivin' Miss Daisy
How the fuck am I?
Now I got mine, I'm Swayze

Is it real, son?
Lemme know it's real, son
If it's really real, son
Lemme know it's real

Load it up and kill one
Load it up and kill one
Load it up and kill one
If it's really real

When I was a little stereo
I used to be the champion
Oh oh oh
I always wondered
When I will be the number one
Hey hey hey

And now you listen to me, Darcon Darcon
-
And all you niggas come and test me, test me
I'm gonna lick out your brains

Brothers wanna hang with the meth
Bring the rope
Cause the only way you hang is by the neck
Nigga, bump off a set
Comin' through all your projects
Take it as a threat or better yet, it is a promise
Comin' like a vet on some old Vietnam shit
You can bet your bottom dollar that I'm on it
And it'll get even worse
Word to God, it's the Wu
Comin' through, takin' niggas 'fore they're
Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
Movin' to your left

I came to represent and carve my name within your chest
You can come test, realize it's no contest, son
I'm the gun who won that old Wild West
Quick on the draw with my hands on the floor
Lovin' all my goddamn monkey rhymes galore
Check it, cause I think not when it's hip hop like proper
Rhymes be the proof when I'm drinkin' 90 proof vodka

No OJ
No, no straw
When you give it to me, yeah
Give it to me raw
I burn
Give it to me raw
I burn

Chest hair

I don't need no chemical blow to pull no ho, no
All I need is chemical bank to pay her up

Is it real, son?
Lemme know it's real, son
If it's really real, son
Lemme know it's
One, two, three, four

Kill one
Fuck it up and kill one
Fuck it up and kill one
Lemme know it's real