Basically, cant fuck with me
[verse one:]
I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain
Lets go inside my astral plane
Find out my mentals based on instrumental
Records hey, so I can write monumental
Methods, Im 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 youve crossed over
Then got totally krossed out and kris kross
Who da boss? niggaz get tossed to the side
And Im the dark side of the force
Of course its 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
Im sick, insane, crazy, drivin miss daisy
Out her fuckin mind now I got mine Im swayze
[chorus:]
Is it real son, is it really real son
Let me know its real son, if its really real
Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one
Want it raw deal son, if its 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 (its 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 its a promise
Comin from a vet on some old vietnam shit
Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit
And its gonna get even worse word to god
Its the wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments
Movin on your left, southpaw em its the meth
Came to represent and carve my name in your chest
You can come test realize youre no contest
Son Im 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 Im drinkin 90 proof
Huh vodka, no oj, no straw
When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw
Ive learned when you drink absolut straight it burns
Enough to give my chest hairs a perm
I dont 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 hoes
We have to stick you
[horn sound of car racing by]
[chorus]
[outro:]
Ill fuckin, Ill fuckin cut your kneecaps off
And make you kneel in some staircase piss
Ill 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...)
