I came to bring the pain
Hardcore for the brain
Let's go inside my astral plane
Find out my mental, based on my strumental
Records, hey, so I can write monumental
Methods, I'm not the king, but niggas is decaf
I stick 'em for cream, check it
Just how deep can the shit get?
Deeper than your fist
And brothers are mad pissed, accep it
In your cross color
Clothes you crossed over
And now ya totally crossed out (and kriss krossed)
Who the boss
Niggas get tossed to tha side
And I'm the dark side of the force, of course
It's the Method Man from the Wu-Tang Clan
I be the hectic, and comin' for the that headpiece, protect it
Fuck it, two tears in a bucket
Niggas want the ruckus
So bust it at me, son
Now bust it
Stylez, I get buck wild
Method man on some shit
Fucking niggas foul, son I'm sick
Insand Crazy, drivin' Miss Daisy
How the fuck am I?
Now I got mine, I'm Swayzee
Is it real, son?
Is it really real, son?
Lemme know it's real, son
If it's really real
Something I can feel, son
Load it up and kill one
Wonderin' the deal, son
If it's really real
When I was a little stereo (stereo)
I used to be the champion (ooh)
I always wonder (wonder)
When I will be the number one (ooh)
And now you listen to me, Gargon (gargon)
And the Gargon Summary
And ll you niggas come and test me (test me)
I'm gonna lick out your braids
Mothers wanna hang with the meth, bring the rope
'Cause the only way you hang is by the neck
Niggas, bumbp off a set
Comin' through all your projects
Take it as a treaht or better yet, it is a promisse
Comin' like a Vet on some old Vietnam shit
Niggas, you can bet your bottom dollar that I'm on it
And it's gonna get even worse
Word to the God, it's the Wu
Comin' through
Taking niggas 'fore they're gone
Movin to your left (mr Meth!)
I came to represent and carve my name within your chest
You can come test
Realize it's no contest, son
I'm the gun who won tha old wild west
Quick on the draw with my hands on the floor
Nine-three-eleven with the rugged rhymes galore
Check it 'cause I think not when it's hi-hop like proper
Rhymes be the proof, when I'm drivin' ninety proof vodka
No Oj, no straw
When you give it to me, yeah
Give it to me raw
'Cause I burn
When you drink absolute straight
It burns
Enough to give my chest hairs a perm
I don't need no chemical blow to pull a ho
All I need is chemical bank (to pay the b! Tch!)
Is it really real, son?
Lemme know it's real, son
If it's really real
Something I can feel, son
Load it up and kill one
Wonderin' the deal, son
If it's really real
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes
Fuck the hoes