Lyrics Pain - Fat Joe

Pain

Pack a magazine just incase I gotta clap a boy for fuckin up my vibe
Ever since I’m 17 had them jumpin jacks hopin in and out of rides
Nobody that the sweat, nobody like rejects
Stuck up Mister Softee with the wall with the Brooklyn Deceps
Where you think the scar came from?!
Nigga we been mobbin since day one
Nigga when the cops rush niggas had to run stach the cracks in the pay phone
nigga!
Damn this depressed yet, triple gold diamond bezzled it
Heavy is the head that wears the crown in the tub screamin fly pelican
In the rooftops for the pigeons, niggas losin their religion
Gold lots of those over Coca-Cola sweaters pitchin what was stitched in
What you know about pain!
I know about pain nigga!
Yeah!
Uh!
Against all odds Phil Collins hearin callin +In The Air Of The Night+
That sound of crack fiends in tag teams suckin air out the pipe
Down the block from where it began took his last breath dirty mattress
Uh!
I feel like Al Capone how they did him dirty for them fuckin taxes
Uh!
Rest in peace Cato that shy rack I sling that bitch
In the elevator goin up with B.I.G.
me thinkin damn he rich
Madoff made off like Robin Hood on them Wall Street kids
Workin on the Basciat depend on what brush you paint it with
Uh!
Darkside 3!!!