Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pain Is Love , by - Cappadonna. Song from the album The Struggle, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 13.06.2005
Record label: Code Red
Song language: English
Pain Is Love |
| Pain is love, that’s what this nigga told me |
| I keep washin' my face with blunts and O. E |
| Mix coke with dust, still can hold me |
| What made ya muthafuckas think you control me? |
| Staten Island been wildin', so Osama’s nothing |
| And my niggas out in Brooklyn said Saddam was frontin' |
| Gotta squad, what you think, it ain’t no guns or something? |
| Picture Me Rollin', holdin' less than a one or somethin' |
| You fake faggots, yeah we got that big automatic |
| Like, Bruce Willis and the Jackal type, yeah, right |
| You wanna see it? |
| Then get on my nerves |
| Oh you live, and I’m gettin' money spit on my curb |
| In the hood where it get no harder, only tougher |
| Crack fiends suffer, baby moms, baby brother |
| Hustlin', still forty off a hundred packs |
| I’d rather lounge in the back of the bar |
| Me and my dog throw crack in the jar |
| Listen to this rap star, while I sit back in the car |
| And I told ya’ll niggas how the Staten rock |
| We don’t, trick on chicks, yo we clap them shots |
| You get caught if you ask a lot, like you don’t know |
| And where you at, then ya ass is got |
| Pain is love, that’s what this nigga told me |
| I keep washin' my face with blunts and O. E |
| Mix coke with dust, still can hold me |
| What made ya muthafuckas think you control me? |
| We bringin' back the Twin Towers, 20−0-3, crack game electronic |
| Conceived with slow jams by The Delfonics |
| At a level that you should of been years ago |
| Responsible usually for coke traffic, usually for broken bone tragic |
| Rest in peace, to Mayor Guliani’s term |
| They say I’m wrong, shit |
| I’m try’nna see 26, with my daughters at the Emmy Awards |
| All around the ball glowin', they got the weed flow droughted |
| Or maybe niggas in the hood just ain’t 'bout it |
| Talkin' Hercules, and ain’t nothin' but dog food |
| Staten Island, New York City drools |
| Crazy glue on my fingerprints |
| Name on the concrete of my hood, what’s really good? |
| Vendetta’s with these rap stars |
| Frontin' like this crime and the pet is they cars |
| Believe I was God in my last life |
| What if it was your knife? |
| What if they was your gloves, nigga. |
| Pain is love, that’s what this nigga told me |
| I keep washin' my face with blunts and O. E |
| Mix coke with dust, still can hold me |
| What made ya muthafuckas think you control me? |
| Aiyo, I came into this game on some real love shit |
| And ya’ll bitch ass niggas, ya’ll wanted me to quit |
| Because the way I dress ill and the way that I spit |
| But I ain’t never gon' stop, droppin' these joints |
| And ya’ll fake ass niggas, ya’ll ain’t gettin' no points |
| Don’t try to sabotage me, cuz you just can’t do it |
| You had me in the Square, last year, but you blew it |
| Big Donna from the group home, that’s my word |
| Splash shots at your whip, splash shots at your bird |
| Leave your brains and your Gucci boots up on the curb |
| Pillage for life, Allah’s will be the most superb |
| Smoke weed with the cannon, smoke the herb |
| So bow down, all you crab ass clowns you can’t live |
| My gun’s on empty, but it’s more shots to give |
| I pop you like a slave cop, run in your crib |
| Throw darts at your wife, throw darts at your kid |
| Leave your house flooded with hits like O.J. |
| did |
| Escapin' the crime scene and you love how I slid |
| Pain is love, that’s what this nigga told me |
| I keep washin' my face with blunts and O. E |
| Mix coke with dust, still can hold me |
| What made ya muthafuckas think you control me? |