Luyện nghe bài hát Bring The Pain

Basically, can't fuck me

I came to bring the pain from the brain
Let's go inside my astral
Find out my mental's on instrumental
Records hey so I can write
Methods, I'm not the
But niggas is decaf I stick 'em for the
Check it just how can shit get
as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it
In your Cross Color clothes crossed over
Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kross
Who the boss? Niggas get tossed to the
And I'm the dark of the Force
Of it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan
I be hectic, and for the head piece protect it
Fuck it, two in a bucket, niggas want the ruckus
Bustin' at me bruh, now it
Styles, I buckwild
Method Man on some shit, niggas files
I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin' Miss
Out her mind now I got mine I'm Swayze

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

And I was a lil' stereo (Stereo)
I listened to champion (Champion)
I always (Wondered)
Will now I be the one (Tical hahaha)
Now you listen to the (Gargon)
And the Gargon
And any man dat test me (Test me)
Me gwanna lick out brains (It's like that)

Brothers want to hang the Meth bring the rope
The only way you is by the neck nigga poke
Off the set comin' to your
Take it as a threat, yet it's a promise
Comin' from a vet on old Vietnam shit
Nigga you can bet your bottom hey I bomb shit
And gonna get even worse word to God
It's the Wu comin' through sickin niggaz for they
Movin' on your left, southpaw em it's the
to represent and carve my name in your chest
You can come test you're no contest
Son I'm the gun that won old Wild West
Quick on the draw my hands on the four
three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore
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
you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw
I've learned you drink Absolut straight it burns
Enough to give my hairs a perm
I need 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
spicy brown mustard hoes
We have to you

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