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    Kenny "dope" Gonzalez / Lyrics

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    "Bring the Pain" Lyrics

    Kenny "dope" Gonzalez feat. Method Man

    Basically, can't fuck with me

    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 can 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 fish accept it
    In your Cross Color clothes you've crossed over
    Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross

    Who 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
    I be hectic, and coming for the head piece protect it
    Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggas want the ruckus
    Bustin' at me bruh, now bust it
    Styles, I gets buckwild
    Method Man on some shit, pulling niggas files
    I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin' Miss Daisy
    Out her fuckin' 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

    And when I was a lil' stereo (Stereo)

    I listened to some champion (Champion)
    I always wondered (Wondered)
    Will now I be the number one (Tical hahaha)
    Now you listen to the Gargon (Gargon)
    And the Gargon summary
    And any man dat come test me (Test me)
    Me gwanna lick out them brains (It's like that)

    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 it's a promise
    Comin' from a vet on some old Vietnam shit
    Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit
    And it's gonna get even worse word to God
    It's the Wu comin' through sickin niggaz for they garments
    Movin' on your left, southpaw em it's the 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 aiy, give it to me raw
    I've learned 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 hoe
    All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo'

    What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style
    Word up we be hazardous
    Northern spicy brown mustard hoes
    We have to stick you


    I'll fuckin', I'll fuckin' cut your kneecaps off
    And make you kneel in some staircase piss

    I'll fuckin', cut your eyelids off
    And feed you nuthin' but sleepin' pills

    You motherfuckers
    (So) So fuck the hoe
    Fuck the hoe

    (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin')
    This song was submitted on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Carlton Ridenhour, Clifford Smith, Gary J. Rinaldo, James Henry Boxley III, Robert F. Diggs.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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