Luyện nghe bài hát Bring Da Pain

Basically, can't with me

I came to bring the pain from the brain
Let's go inside my astral
out my mental's based on instrumental
Records hey, so I can monumental

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

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

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

Styles, I buck wild
Method Man on some shit, pullin' files
I'm sick, insane, crazy, drivin' Daisy
Out her fuckin' now I got Martin Swayze

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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