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..::История::.. ..::Фотографии::.. ..::Музыка::.. ..::Биографии::.. ..::Тексты песен::.. ..::Дискография::.. ..::Интервью::.. ..::Файлы::.. ..::Wallpapers::.. ..::Видео::.. |
Tical (1994)
Bring
The Pain Basically,
can't fuck with me Verse
One: I
came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's
go inside my astral plane Find
out my mental's based on instrumental records
hey, so I can write monumental Methods,
I'm not the King But
niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check
it, just how deep can shit get Deep
as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In
your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over Then
got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross Who
da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the sideAnd I'm the dark side of the Force Of
course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I
be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it Fuck
it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin
at me bruh, now bust it Styles,
I gets buckwild Method
Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files I'm
sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out
her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze Chorus:
Is
it real son, is it really real son Let
me know it's real son, if it's really real Something
I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want
it raw deal son, if it's really real Interlude:
Booster
And
when I was a lil stereo (stereo) I listened to some champion (champion) I
always wondered (wondered)Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha) Now
you listen to de gargon (Gargon!)And de gargon summary And
any man dat come test me (test me) Me
gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that) Verse
Two: Brothers
want to hang with the Meth bring the rope the
only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke off
the set comin to your projects Take
it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin
from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga
you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And
it's gonna get even worse word to God It's
the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin
on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth Came
to represent and carve my name in your chest You
can come test realize you're no contest Son
I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick
on the draw with my hands on the four nine
three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check
it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes
be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof Huh
vodka, no OJ, no straw When
you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've
learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough
to give my chest hairs a permI don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All
I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo' What,
basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word
up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me* Northern
spicy brown mustard hoesWe have to stick you *horn
sound of car racing by* Chorus
& Outro: I'll
fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off and
make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll
fuckin, cut your eyelids off and
feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You
motherfuckers(So???) So fuck the hoe Fuck
the hoe(Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...) |
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