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Bring the Pain
作詞:Robert Jr Diggs, Clifford Smith
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 niggaz is decaf I stick 'em for the cream, check it Just how deep can shit get, get deeper than your fists An' brothers is mad, pissed, accept it
In your cross colors clothes, you crossed over Now, ya totally crossed out an' Kriss Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to da side An' I'm the dark side of the force, of course
更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 It's the Method Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic an' comin' for that headpiece, protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket Niggaz want the ruckus? So bust it at me, son, now bust it
Stylez, I get buck wild, Method Man on some shit Fuckin' niggaz foul, son, I'm sick Insane, crazy, drivin' Miss Daisy How the fuck am I? Now I got mine, I'm Swayze
Is it real, son? Lemme know it's real, son If it's really real, son, lemme know it's real Load it up an' kill one, load it up an' kill one Load it up an' kill one, if it's really real
When I was a little stereo, I used to be the champion I always wonder when I would be the number one An' now you listen to me, Darcon, Darcon [Incomprehensible] An' all you niggaz come an' test me I'm gonna lick out your brains
Mothers wanna hang with the Meth, bring the rope 'Cuz the only way you hang is by the neck Nigga, pump off a set, comin' through all your projects Take it as a threat or better yet, it is a promise
Comin' like a vet on some old Vietnam shit You can bet your bottom dollar that I'm on it An' it'll get even worse, word to God, it's the Wu Comin' through, takin' niggaz 'fore they're gone Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
Movin' to your left I came to represent an' 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 Lovin' all those goddamn funky rhymes galore Check it 'cuz I think not, when it's hip hop like propa Rhymes be the proof when I'm drinkin' ninety proof vodka
No O J, 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? Lemme know it's real, son If it's really real' son, lemme know it's 1, 2, 3, 4 Kill one, fuck it up an' kill one Fuck it up an' kill one, lemme know it's real
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