Bring The Pain - Mindless Self Indulgence

I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain

Let’s go inside my astral plane

Find out my mental, based on instrumental

Records, hey, so I can write monumental

Method, I’m not the king

But niggas is decaf, I stick 'em full of CREAM

Check it, just how deep can shit get

Get deeper than your fists and brothers is mad, pissed, accept it

In your Cross Colour clothes, you’ve crossed over

Then got Totally Krossed Out, Kris Krossed

Who da boss?

Niggas get tossed to the side

And I’m the dark side of the Force

Of course it’s the Method (woo) from the Wu-Tang (woo)

I be hectic, and comin' for the head piece, protect it

Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggas want the ruckus

Yo, bust it at me, son, now bust it

Styles, I get buck wild

Method (woo) on some shit, fuckin' niggas foul

So now i’m sick

Insane, crazy, driving Miss Daisy

How the fuck am I?

Now I got mine, I’m Swayze

Is it real, son?

Lemme know it’s real, son

If it’s really real, son

Lemme know it’s real

Load it up and kill one

Load it up and kill one

Load it up and kill one

If it’s really real

When I was a little stereo

I used to be the champion

Oh oh oh

I always wondered

When I will be the number one

Hey hey hey

Now you listen to me, Darcon Darcon

And

And all you niggas come and test me, test me

I’m gonna lick out your brains

Brothers want to hang with the Meth, bring the rope

Cause the only way you’ll hang is by the neck

Nigga bump off the set

Comin' through all your projects

Take it as a threat or better yet, it is a promise

Comin' from a vet on some old Vietnam shit

You can bet your bottom dollar that I’m on it

And it’s gonna get even worse, word to God

It’s the Wu, comin' through takin' niggas 'fore they’re

Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone

Movin' to your left

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 that old Wild West

Quick on the draw with my hands on the floor

Lovin' all those goddamn monkey rhymes galore

Check it, 'cause I think not when this hip-hopslike proper

Rhymes be the proof while I’m drinkin' 90 proof vodka

No OJ, no, no straw

When you give it to me, yeah, give it to me raw

I burn

Give it to me raw

I burn

Chest hair

I don’t need no chemical blow to pull a ho, no

All I need is Chemical Bank to pay her up

Is it real, son?

Lemme know it’s real, son

If it’s really real, son

Lemme know it’s

One, two, three, four

Kill one

Fuck it up and kill one

Fuck it up and kill one

Lemme know it’s real