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Lemme tell you now |
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I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain |
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Let's go inside my astral plane |
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Find out my mental, based on instrumental |
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Records, hey, so I can make monumental |
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Methods, I'm not the king but niggaz is decaf |
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I stick 'em for the cream, check it |
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Just how deep can shit get, get deeper than your fists |
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An' brothers is mad, pissed, accept it |
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In your cross colors clothes, you crossed over |
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Now, ya totally crossed out an' Kriss Kross |
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Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to da side |
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An' I'm the dark side of the force, of course |
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It's the Method Man from the Wu-Tang Clan |
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I be hectic an' comin' for that headpiece, protect it |
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Fuck it, two tears in a bucket |
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Niggaz want the ruckus? So bust it at me, son, now bust it |
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Stylez, I get buck wild, Method Man on some shit |
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Fuckin' niggaz foul, son, I'm sick |
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Insane, crazy, drivin' Miss Daisy |
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How the fuck am I? Now I got mine, I'm Swayze |
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Is it real, son? Lemme know it's real, son |
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If it's really real, son, lemme know it's real |
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Load it up an' kill one, load it up an' kill one |
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Load it up an' kill one, if it's really real |
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When I was a little stereo, I used to be the champion |
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I always wonder when I would be the number one |
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An' now you listen to me, Darcon, Darcon |
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[Incomprehensible] |
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An' all you niggaz come an' test me |
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I'm gonna lick out your brains |
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Mothers wanna hang with the Meth, bring the rope |
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'Cuz the only way you hang is by the neck |
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Nigga, pump off a set, comin' through all your projects |
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Take it as a threat or better yet, it is a promise |
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Comin' like a vet on some old Vietnam shit |
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You can bet your bottom dollar that I'm on it |
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An' it'll get even worse, word to God, it's the Wu |
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Comin' through, takin' niggaz 'fore they're gone |
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Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone |
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Movin' to your left |
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I came to represent an' carve my name within your chest |
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You can come test, realize, it's no contest, son |
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I'm the gun, who won that Old Wild West |
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Quick on the draw with my hands on the floor |
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Lovin' all those goddamn funky rhymes galore |
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Check it 'cuz I think not, when it's hip hop like propa |
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Rhymes be the proof when I'm drinkin' ninety proof vodka |
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No O J, no, no straw |
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When you give it to me, yeah, give it to me raw, I burn |
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Give it to me raw, I burn, chest hair |
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I don't need no chemical blow to pull no ho', no |
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All I need is chemical bank to pay her up |
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Is it real, son? Lemme know it's real, son |
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If it's really real' son, lemme know it's 1, 2, 3, 4 |
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Kill one, fuck it up an' kill one |
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Fuck it up an' kill one, lemme know it's real |
