- Basically. Fuck him. (chill hip hop music) ♪ I came to bring the pain
hardcore from the brain ♪ ♪ Let's go inside my astral plane ♪ ♪ Find out my mental
based on instrumental ♪ ♪ Record, hey, so I can write monumental ♪ ♪ Methods, I'm not the king ♪ ♪ But is decaf, I stick
'em for the cream ♪ ♪ Check it, just how deep can get ♪ ♪ Deep as the abyss and brothers
is mad, fish accept it ♪ ♪ In your Cross Color
clothes, you've crossed over ♪ ♪ They got totally crossed
out and Kriss Krossed ♪ ♪ Who the boss? Get tossed
get tossed to the 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
the head piece, protect it ♪ ♪ Two tears in a bucket ♪ ♪ Want the ruckus ♪ ♪ Bustin' at me, bruh, now bust it ♪ ♪ Styles, I gets buckwild ♪ ♪ Method Man on, pullin' files, I'm sick ♪ ♪ Insane, crazy, driving Miss Daisy ♪ ♪ Out her fucking mind, now
I got mine, I'm Swayze ♪ ♪ Is it real, son, is
it really real, son? ♪ ♪ Let me know it's real,
son, if it's really real ♪ ♪ Something I could feel,
son, load it up and kill one ♪ ♪ Want it raw deal, son,
if it's really real ♪ ♪ When I was a litle stereo, stereo ♪ ♪ I listen to some champion, champion ♪ ♪ I always wondered, wondered ♪ ♪ When I will be da number one ♪ ♪ And now you listen
to da Gorgon, Gorgon ♪ ♪ And da Gorgon sound a rain ♪ ♪ And any jump and come test me, test me ♪ ♪ Me, I lick out dem brains ♪ ♪ Brothers wanna hang with
the Meth, bring the rope ♪ ♪ The only way you'll
hang is by the neck ♪ ♪ Bolt off the set,
comin' to your projects ♪ ♪ Take it as a threat,
better yet it's a promise ♪ ♪ Comin' from a vet on some old Vietnam ♪ ♪ You can bet your bottom
dollar, hey, I bomb ♪ ♪ And it's gonna get
even worse, word to God ♪ ♪ It's the Wu comin' through,
stickin' for they garments ♪ ♪ Movin' on your left,
southpaw, Mr. Meth ♪ ♪ Came to represent and
carve my name in your chest ♪ ♪ You can come test,
realize you're no contest ♪ ♪ Son, I'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 this hip-hops like proper ♪ ♪ Rhymes be the proof while
I'm drinkin' 90 proof ♪ ♪ Huh, vodka, no OJ, no straw ♪ ♪ When you give it to me,
hey, give it to me raw ♪ ♪ I've learned that when you
drink Absolut straight it burns ♪ ♪ Enough to give my chest hairs a perm ♪ ♪ I don't need a chemical blow to pull a ♪ ♪ All I need is Chemical
Bank to pay the roll ♪ (chill hip hop music) ♪ Is it real, son, is
it really real, son? ♪ ♪ Let me know it's real,
son, if it's really real ♪ ♪ Something I could feel,
son, load it up and kill one ♪ ♪ Want it raw deal, son,
if it's really real ♪ (chill hip hop music) ♪ Cut your eyelids off ♪ ♪ And feed you nothin'
but sleepin' pills ♪ (Method Man laughs) (chill hip hop music)
