In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
Now lemme tell ya now
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
Methods, I'm not the king but niggas is decaf
I stick 'em for the CREAM
Check it, just how deep can shit get, get deep as the abyss
And brothers is mad pissed, accept it
In your cross colored clothes you crossed over
Now you're totally crossed out and Kriss Kross
Who da boss, niggas get tossed to da side
And I'm the dark side I am the force of course
It's the Method (woo) from the Wu Tang (woo)
I'll be hectic and comin' for that 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 son, I'm sick
Insane crazy, drivin' 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 its 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 wonder
When I will be the number one
Hey, hey, hey
And now you listen to me Darcon, Darcon
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 a rope
'Cause the only way you hang is by the neck
Nigga pump off a 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'll 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 when 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 hairs
I don't need no chemical blow to pull no hoe, no
All I need is chemical bank to pay her up
Is it real son, lemme know it's real son
If its really real son, lemme know it's
1, 2, 3, 4
Kill one
Fuck it up and kill one
Fuck it up and kill one
Lemme know it's real
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
Methods, I'm not the king but niggas is decaf
I stick 'em for the CREAM
Check it, just how deep can shit get, get deep as the abyss
And brothers is mad pissed, accept it
In your cross colored clothes you crossed over
Now you're totally crossed out and Kriss Kross
Who da boss, niggas get tossed to da side
And I'm the dark side I am the force of course
It's the Method (woo) from the Wu Tang (woo)
I'll be hectic and comin' for that 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 son, I'm sick
Insane crazy, drivin' 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 its 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 wonder
When I will be the number one
Hey, hey, hey
And now you listen to me Darcon, Darcon
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 a rope
'Cause the only way you hang is by the neck
Nigga pump off a 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'll 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 when 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 hairs
I don't need no chemical blow to pull no hoe, no
All I need is chemical bank to pay her up
Is it real son, lemme know it's real son
If its really real son, lemme know it's
1, 2, 3, 4
Kill one
Fuck it up and kill one
Fuck it up and kill one
Lemme know it's real
Lyrics submitted by xtreme2252
Bring the Pain Lyrics as written by Clifford Smith Carlton Douglas Ridenhour
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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