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Flycell Home Page » Ringtones » Bring The Pain

Bring The Pain Lyrics


Song Name : Bring The Pain
Song Writer(s): Diggs, Robert Jr, Smith,
Publisher: RAMECCA PUBLISHING, UNIVERSAL MUSIC - CAREERS, WU TANG PUBLISHING,


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Lemme tell you now
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 methods
I'm not the king, but *****z is decaf
I stick 'em for the cream, check it


Just how deep can **** get?
Get deeper than your fists
And brothers is mad
Pissed, accept it


In your cross color, clothes are crossed over
Now ya totally crossed out and Kriss kross
Who da boss? *****z get tossed to da side
And 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 that hea**iece, protect it
***k it, two tears in a bucket
*****z want the ruckus?


So bust it at me, son, now bust it
Styles, I get buck wild
Method man on some ****
***kin' *****z, foul, son, I'm sick


Insane crazy, drivin' miss daisy
How the ***k 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
I always wonder when I will be the number one
And now you listen to me, Dacron Dacron


And all you *****z come and test me? Test me
I'm gonna lick out your brains
Mothers wanna hang with the meth, bring the rope
'Cos the only way you hang is by the neck, *****, bump off a set


Comin' through all your projects
Take it as a threat or better yet, it is a promise
Comin' like a vet on some old Vietnam ****
You can bet your bottom dollar that I'm on it


And it'll get even worse
Word to God, it's the Wu
Comin' through, takin' *****z '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 funky rhymes galore
Check it, 'cos I think not when it's hip hop like proper rhymes
Be the proof when I'm drinkin' ninety 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 no 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, ***k it up and kill one
***k it up and kill one
Lemme know it's real

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