| Yo, it’s the blade runner, face gunner, mace never*
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| Cold case catcher, base stretcher, erase your face setter
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| Yo, walk wit a blade, gray sunshine sun shade
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| Walk guys are small fries, I’m pharaoh
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| There it lies, focus the barrel, friend rule
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| Food for head and chest, lay you to rest
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| Even in O.T., I’m home team
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| Three dogs, three guns, five fought
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| Whoever want it, get smoked like blunted
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| Peacefully put, get pulled like ruts or roots
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| Always in case for the loot
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| Compound your bloody compute, wisely maintain
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| Mandible Max Payne, the gang, your whole gang’s in flames
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| Entice my foes, spit your flows
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| After the laughter comes the ears
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| I compesated more beers than MC’s careers
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| Hip hop cheers, blood, sweat, real niggas rep your set
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| Red hoes in my bow, keeps the cold
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| Bull run calm and ain’t it
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| The FL we made it, brown speech
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| Ultimate proportions, was enormous
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| Wordplay, gorgeous george shit
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| Driver that got award shit
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| Bleed bloodclots more hits
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| Yo, we come through like sperm behind the diaphragm
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| Scratch the surface of the cervix, form iron hands
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| And accordion low, black they capo
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| Saxophone higher blade for saxon-anglo
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| My wife growing bangles, threats in the mail
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| They discovered DNA fragments to mark my trail
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| Elusively hunt, then dungeon punging
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| A roamer of believements, through digital sequence
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| See this gleem in his eye, soon they hold the truth
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| When the glare disppear, slash anything that move
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| Microphone dudes, coolers disfuse like osmosis
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| Slap mother nature, for fusing as the focus
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| Poisonous windrafts, gas you off the path
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| Head in concrete crash like rocks in river raft
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| I spell the math, engraved in sculpture
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| Pricked and accupuncture, from the claws of an vulture
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| Violent altar, wave sound pound the ground
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| Infuriated fists, crack the streets in your town
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| Violent backlash, contained on phonograph
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| So full of wrath, they mix equilibrium crash
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| Ninja mass welded from elephant horn
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| Fighting electric wolves with vocal extension cords
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| Apprehension, propeltial inmate to bars
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| Aloy still measure from the mind that lift cars
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| Release your album, you fucking with ours
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| And that’s mine, niggas get they lives summarized
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| Like your favorite long summertime, shine of a gunning night
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| Boy run your mic |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Pain (Instr.) , by - Bronze Nazareth. Song from the album The Pain (12"), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп