Lyrics Pain - Dolo Mic, SIC, Fes Taylor

Pain

G-yeah, Fes what up my nigga?
Come on…
K-Costal, what’s the word baby?
G-yeah… yo…
Pain… burning inside
Right in the streets
That’s inside of you and me
See I came up in the world with them gunners and thieves
Who never smelt a good life, just itch for something to squeeze
Block busters who’ll pop suckers for fucking with me
Glock clutchers who shot hustlers for fucking up cheese
Look, I ran with some killas, scammed with gorillas
Hand-to-hand for the skrilla, damn it man I’m the illest
People jam cuz they feel it, my plan is to drill it
in the head of the masses, and blast with the realest
sound that come around, fends rags to the riches
About to shut it down, kid I’m bad and I’m vicious
Pause, I get off bras from the baddest of bitches
On par with the overflowing trash in the business
Can’t wait to get past all these fags and these snitches (the fuck outta here)
I love to hear the sounds of hands clap when I finish
Salute from the streets and clubs packed to the limit
I got it on smash, haters mad cuz they timid, mothafucka!
Aiyo I might buy a burgundy Benz to match my shirt
Police hurt that we friends, they tapping my church (snitch)
That’s why I hear static when I talk
By my side, hold the 'matic when I walk
I’m an addict for Newports
And pimp weed, bottles of Hennessy and new broads
Stroking with my shoes on, after we do tours (yeah)
No radio play, my shit only bumped outta cars
Something new jump out like I’m a star (alright)
I don’t drive it if it go more than thirty thousand miles on it
Leave it in the garage, see if my child want it
He ain’t even old enough to drive, but I spoiled him to death
So I show him that, he ain’t have to do a crime in front me
It’s suicide, I let the Ruger decide
If he live or die depend on my aim
I ain’t fronting, I ain’t been to the range
But I used to shoot the streetlights out off the roof back in the days
Try me, try me, niggaz…
Aiyo, I live it and spit it, no gimmicks over here
Y’all go 'head and dance but these is the lyrics of the year
They wanna hear what I gotta say
Fuck trying to get some radio play especially if I gotta pay
We make no appointments, no e-mails or calls
Just, run up in the office and tie up the boss
Uh, the money, the power, we hungry, we coming for our’s
Guns to you cowards, put you under with flowers
Love the joy but the pain feels so much better
Never take back them things, I ain’t have no cheddar
Now I laugh at shit I used to get mad at
No longer sad rap, I had that, look what my last album
I promised Taylor I would stitch it and sow it for him
So I’m up in the kitchen mixing pots with the water for him
Solidified, it ain’t no way you could blackball it
That Staten Island bullshit, we back on it
Here come the pain…
They look at the wheels, I’m a crook with a deal
They shot through ya V, you took it and pealed (coward)
I would’ve banged back with the Mack, how I rapped with the Pack
I clap at these rats, take that for the Stat!
(S.I.)
I’m like, try and shit on my borough
Is you kidding?
We thorough
Niggaz is rollers, picture me rolling, they say… (you see me?)
Chain hang to my balls, plus I bang in the halls
Graffitti the mall, my name on the walls
It wrote: «Fuck flossing with the bitches»
Think the Porsches is rented?"
I feed niggaz, give 'em cautions in kitchens, just get it
Porcelain, rip it, hand it like an auction, we did it
Up North, Specs caught for a sentence
He said: «Doing fifteen years, I’ma get these queers
They told on my boy, promise they all disappear»
Promise, I hop out the truck when I’m hunting like Elmer Fudd
Listen son, you niggaz better Donald Duck…
(Fucking cartoon animated ass niggaz, B, it’s that real hip-hop shit)