Luyện nghe bài hát Bring The Pain

Basically, can't with me

I to bring the pain hardcore from the brain
Let's go inside my astral
Find out my based on instrumental
hey so I can write monumental
Methods, I'm not the
But niggas is I stick 'em for the cream
Check it how deep can shit get
Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish it
In your Color clothes you've crossed over
Then got Krossed Out and Kris Kross
Who the boss? Niggas get to the side
And I'm the dark of the Force
Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang
I be hectic, and coming for the piece protect it
Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggas the ruckus
Bustin' at me bruh, now it
Styles, I gets
Method Man on some shit, pulling niggas
I'm sick, insane, crazy, Miss Daisy
Out her fuckin' mind now I got I'm Swayze

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 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 to the Gargon (Gargon)
And the summary
And any man dat come me (Test me)
Me gwanna lick out them brains (It's that)

Brothers to hang with the Meth bring the rope
The only way you hang is by the neck nigga
Off the set comin' to projects
Take it as a threat, better yet it's a
Comin' from a vet on some old shit
Nigga you can bet your bottom hey I bomb shit
And it's gonna get even word to God
the Wu comin' through sickin niggaz for they garments
Movin' on left, southpaw 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
on the draw with my hands on the four
Nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes
Check it cause I think not this hip-hops like proper
Rhymes be the proof I'm drinkin' 90 proof
Huh vodka, no OJ, no
you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw
I've learned when you drink straight it burns
Enough to give my chest hairs a
I don't need a 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
spicy brown mustard hoes
We have to you

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