Luyện nghe bài hát Bring Da Pain

Basically, can't with me

I came to bring the pain from the brain
go inside my astral plane
Find out my mental's on instrumental
Records hey, so I can write

Methods, I'm not the
But niggaz is I stick 'em for the cream
Check it, how deep can shit get
Deep as the abyss and is mad fish accept it

In your cross color, you've crossed over
Then got krossed out and Kris Kross
Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the
And I'm the side of the force

Of course it's the Man from the Wu-Tang Clan
I be hectic and comin' for the piece protect it
it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus
Bustin' at me brush, now it

Styles, I gets buck
Method Man on some shit, pullin' niggaz
I'm sick, insane, crazy, Miss Daisy
Out her mind now I got Martin Swayze

Is it real son, is it real son?
Let me know it's real son, if it's real
I could feel son, load it up and kill one
Want it raw deal son, if it's real

And when I was a stereo
(Stereo)
I to some champion
(Champion)
I wondered
(Wondered)
now I be the numba one?
(Tical! Hahaha)

Now you listen to de
(Gargon!)
And de gargon
And any man dat test me
(Test me)
Me gwanna out dem brains
(It's that)

want to hang with the Meth bring the rope
The only way you hang is by the nigga poke
Off the set comin' to projects
it as a threat, better yet it's a promise

Comin' from a vet on some old Vietnam
Nigga you can bet your bottom hey I bomb shit
And it's gonna get worse word to God
It's the Wu comin' through niggaz for they garments

Movin' on your left, 'em it's the Meth
to represent and carve my name in your chest
You can come realize you're no contest
Son, I'm the gun that won that old Wild

Quick on the draw my hands on the four
Nine three eleven with the rugged galore
it 'cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper
Rhymes be the proof while I'm 90 proof

Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw, you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw
I've when you drink absolute straight it burns
Enough to give my hairs a perm
I don't need a chemical to pull a hoe
All I need is bank to pay da mo'

What, basically that, Meth-Tical, style
Word up we be car crashing, horn passing me
spicy brown mustard hoes
We have to you

Is it son, is it really real son?
Let me know it's real son, if really real
I could feel son, load it up and kill one
Want it raw deal son, if really real

I'll fuckin', I'll fuckin' cut your off
And make you kneel in some staircase
I'll fuckin', cut your off
And feed you nuthin' but sleepin'
You
So the hoe
(So)
the hoe