Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bring The Pain, artist - Mindless Self Indulgence. Album song Tighter, in the genre Индастриал
Date of issue: 25.04.2011
Record label: UCR
Song language: English
Bring The Pain |
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 |