Luyện nghe bài hát Bring The Pain

Basically, fuck with me

I came to bring the hardcore from the brain
Let's go inside my astral
Find out my based on instrumental
Records hey so I can monumental
Methods, I'm not the
But is decaf I stick 'em for the cream
Check it how deep can shit get
Deep as the and brothers is mad fish accept it
In your Cross clothes you've crossed over
Then got Totally Out and Kris Kross
Who the boss? 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 for the head piece protect it
Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggas the ruckus
Bustin' at me bruh, now it
Styles, I buckwild
Method Man on some shit, pulling files
I'm sick, insane, crazy, Miss Daisy
Out her mind now I got mine I'm Swayze

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

And when I was a stereo (Stereo)
I listened to some (Champion)
I wondered (Wondered)
Will now I be the one (Tical hahaha)
Now you to the Gargon (Gargon)
And the Gargon
And any man dat come me (Test me)
Me lick out them brains (It's like that)

want to hang with the Meth bring the rope
The only way you hang is by the neck 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 hey I bomb shit
And it's gonna get worse word to God
It's the Wu comin' through sickin niggaz for garments
Movin' on your left, southpaw em it's the
Came to represent and carve my name in chest
You can come test realize you're no
Son I'm the gun that won that old West
on the draw with my hands on the four
Nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes
Check it cause I think not when hip-hops like proper
Rhymes be the proof I'm drinkin' 90 proof
Huh vodka, no OJ, no
When you give it to me aiy, it to me raw
I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it
Enough to give my chest a perm
I don't a chemical blow to pull a hoe
All I need is Bank to pay da mo'

What, that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style
Word up we be
Northern brown mustard hoes
We have to you

Is it real son, is it really 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