(he keeps talks to the class)
Basically (fuck you) canand't fuck with me
Verse one:
I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain
Letand's go inside my astral plane
Find out my mentaland's based on instrumental
Records hey so i could write monumental
Methods iand'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 just accept it
In your cross colour, clothes youand've crossed over
Then got totally crossed out like kris kross
Who da boss? niggaz get tossed to the side
And iand'm the dark side of the force
Of course itand's the method, man from the wu-tang clan
I be hectic, and coming for the head piece protect it
Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus
Bustin at me punk now bust it
Styles, i gets buckwild
Method man on some shit, pullin niggaz files
Iand'm sick, insane crazy, drivin miss daisy
Out her fuckin mind now i got mine iand'm swayze
Chorus:
Is it real son, is it really real son
Let me know itand's real son, if itand's really real
Something i could feel son, load it up and kill one
Want it raw deal son, if itand's really real
Interlude: booster
(the booster!)
And when i was a lil stereo
I listened to some champion
I always wondered
Will now i be the numba one?
Now you listen to de gargon
And de gargon summary
And any man dat come test me
Me gwanna lick out dem brains
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 itand's a promise
Comin from a vet on some old vietnam shit
Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey i bomb shit
And itand's gonna get even worse word to god
Itand's the wu comin through vickin niggaz for they garments
Movin on your left, southpaw em itand's the meth
Came to represent and carve my name in your chest
You can come test realize youand're no contest
Son iand'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 itand's hip-hop like proper
Rhymes be the proof when iand'm drinkin 90 proof
Huh vodka, no oj, no straw
When you give it to me yeah, give it to me raw
Iand've learned that when you drink absolut straight it burns
Enough to give my chest hairs a perm
I donand't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe
All i need is chemical bank to pay the mo
Outro:
Basically youand're left with meth-tical
{northern spicy brown mustard hoes} coming with tical
And when you see it happen, you stick em
Puttin def jamand's on my records, itand's on
Iand'll fuckin, slide you down a rusty razor-blade
Into a pool of alcohol
(alright bring it back)
Iand'll fuckin, iand'll fuckin, cut your kneecaps off
And make you kneel in some staircase piss
Iand'll fuckin (that nigga got his but cut)
Cut your eyelids off (and served by the cube)
And feed you nothing but sleeping pills (like a cool cuban
Out this motherfucker... he got a half a joint, and one eyebrow)
(yeah and rae got a shell-toe)
You motherfucker
(one shell-toe adidas on his feet)
(sooooo????) so fuck the hoe
Fuck the hoe
Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin, shoe-lookin
Baby spicy mustard, shoe-lookin!
