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Les paroles de Bring the Pain alternative mix
| | | Artiste: | Man Method |
| | Album: | The Great White Hype soundtrack | | Titre: | Bring the Pain alternative mix | | | | Date d'ajout: | 18/10/2007 | | Vues: | 44 fois | | | | Paroles: | he keeps talks to the class)
Basically (fuck you) 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 could
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
just accept it
In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over
Then got totally
crossed out like Kris Kross
Who da boss? Niggaz 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 coming for the head piece protect it
Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want
the ruckus
bustin at me punk 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
(The Booster!)
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 de gargon
And de gargon summary
And any man dat come test me
Me gwanna lick out dem brains
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 vickin 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 it's hip-hop like
proper
Rhymes be the proof when i'm drinkin 90 proof
Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw
When you give it to me yeah, give it to me raw
I've learned that 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 the mo
Outro:
Basically you're left with Meth-Tical
{Northern spicy brown mustard hoes}
coming with Tical
and when you see it happen, you stick em
Puttin Def Jam's
on my records, it's on
I'll fuckin, slide you down a rusty razor-blade
into a pool
of alcohol
(alright bring it back)
I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin, cut your
kneecaps off
and make you kneel in some staircase piss
I'll fuckin (that
nigga got his but cut)
cut your eyelids off (and served by the cube)
and feed you
nothing but sleeping pills (like a cool Cuban
out this motherfucker... he got a half a
joint, and one eyebrow)
(Yeah and Rae got a shell-toe)
You motherfucker
(One shell-toe Adidas on his feet)
(Sooooo????) So fuck the hoe
Fuck the hoe
Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin, shoe-lookin
Baby spicy mustard, shoe-lookin | | | |
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Les paroles de l'artiste: Man Method
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