Bring The Acapella

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 real