Bring The Pain

Album: Tical (1994)

Basically, can´t f*ck 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 am 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 & brothers is mad fish accept it In your Cross Colour, clothes you have crossed over Then got Totally Krossed Out & Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I am the dark side of the Force Of course it is the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic, & comin for the head piece protect it F*ck 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 am sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out her f*ckin mind now I got mine I am Swayze

Chorus:

Is it real son, is it really real son Let me know it is real son, if it is really real Smth I could feel son, load it up & kill one Want it raw deal son, if it is 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 gwant to lick out dem brains (it is like that)

Verse Two:

Brothers wanna 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 is a promise Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it is going to get even worse word to God It is the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin on your left, southpaw ´em it is the Meth Came to represent & carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you are no contest Son I am 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 am drinkin 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I have learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I do not 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 hoes We´ve to stick you *horn sound of car racing by*

Chorus

Outro:

I will f*ckin, I will f*ckin cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss

I will f*ckin, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills

You motherf*ckers (So???) So f*ck the hoe F*ck the hoe

(Look at this nigga, this motherf*ckin...)