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 make monumental Methods I'm not the king but nigga's is decaf I stick 'em for the cream, check it
Just how deep can shit get, get deeper than your fists And brothers is mad pissed, accept it In your cross colors clothes, you crossed over And now you're totally crossed out, Kriss Kross
Who the boss, nigga's get tossed to the side 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 that headpiece protect it
Fuck it, two tears in a bucket Nigga's want the ruckas, so bust it at me son, now bust it Styles, I get buckwild, Method Man on some shit Fucking nigga's foul, son, I'm sick
Insane crazy Driving Miss Daisy How the fuck am I Now I got mine, I'm swayze
Is it real, son Let me know it's real, son If it's really real, son Let me 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 use to be the champion I always wonder when I would be the number one Hey, hey, hey And now you listen to me darcon, darcon
And all you nigga's come and test me, test me I'm gonna lick out your brains Mothers wanna hang with the Meth, bring the rope 'Cause the only way you hang is by the neck
Nigga, pump off a set, coming through all your projects Take it as a threat or better yet it is a promise Coming 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 Coming through taking niggaz 'fore they're Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone Moving 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 Loving all those god damn funky rhymes galore Check it 'cause I think not when it's hip hop like propa Rhymes be the proof when I'm drinking ninety 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, let me know it's real, son If it's really real, son, let me know it's
One, two three, four, kill one Fuck it up and kill one Fuck it up and kill one Let me know it's realTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
