Song Lyrics

I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain
Let's go inside my astral plane
Find out my mental's based on instrumental
Records hey, so I could write monumental

Methods, I'm not the King
But niggas 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 Color, clothes you've crossed over
Then you're totally crossed out like Kris Kross
Who's the boss? Niggas 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
Hectic and coming for your head piece protect it
F*ck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus
Bustin' at me punk now bust it

Styles, I get buckwild
Method Man on some shit pullin niggas files
I'm sick insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy
Out my fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze

[Chorus]
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

Interlude: Booster
And when I was a lil stereo
I listened to some champion
I always wondered

And will I be the numba one
And me listen to de gargon
And de gargon summary
And any man dat come test me
Me gwanna lick out dem brains

Brothers want to hang with the Meth but you know that
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 it's a promise

Comin like a vet on some old Vietnam shit
Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar yo I bomb shit
And it's gonna get even worse word to God
It's the Wu comin through vickin niggas for they garments

Movin on your left, southpaw it's the Meth
Came to represent carve my name in your chest
You can come test realize there's no contest
I'm the gun that won the whole wide 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 it's hip-hop like proper
Rhymes be the proof when I'm drinkin 90 proof

Uh vodka, no OJ, no straw
When you give it to me yeah, give it to me raw
I've learned when you drink Absolute straight it burns
Enough to give my chest hairs a perm

I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe
All I need is Chemical Bank to pay the mo

Carlton Ridenhour, Clifford Smith, Gary Rinaldo, Hank Shocklee, Robert Diggs