Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song My Pain , by - Pusha T. Release date: 20.09.2011
Song language: English
My Pain |
| It’s the blackout, 'Rari got the back out |
| Showing my black ass, engine in the glass house |
| Started in the crack house, Obama went the back route |
| Kill bin Laden, 'nother four up in the black house |
| Still got the Macs out, pull the mask down like a mascot |
| Still trick with bitches, out with money or with ass shots |
| GOOD had room for one more, I took the last spot |
| Re-Up Gang, P the nigga, 'Ye done hit the jackpot |
| Whole 'nother level, then you add fame |
| That’s a whole 'nother devil, legit drug dealer |
| That’s a whole 'nother bezel, the carbon Audemar |
| That’s a whole 'nother metal, but still keep it ghetto |
| Behind the scenes, pull strings like Gepetto |
| The gun blow steam, whistle like a tea kettle |
| Runnin' like the rebels, UNLV |
| Sport shoe on a pedal, I let you niggas settle (yeugh!) |
| Trouble on my mind |
| I got trouble on my mind |
| Trouble on my mind |
| So much trouble on my mind |
| Trouble on my mind |
| I got trouble on my mind |
| Trouble on my mind |
| So much trouble on my mind |
| Pharrell said «get 'em», so I got 'em |
| Tripped on Bristol Palin then I accidentally shot 'em |
| Then it ricocheted and killed the game, I’m a problem |
| 'Cause I wanna fuck the world but not a fan of using condoms |
| Pardon my French, I’m going hard as my dick |
| When I envision my tip on the crust of bitch lips |
| Mr. Lipschitz has been trippin' |
| Since I mentioned Reptar triceratops dinosaur dick |
| I feel it in my gut to kill these muthafucks |
| Is a must, like the arm of my pits |
| You niggas coming shorter than a Bushwick Billy costume |
| On sale during Christmas in Philly |
| Um, well, not really, it’s getting kinda chilly |
| Let’s hit a couple bars and give some bitches wet willies |
| Soaked, getting jiggy with it in Bel-Air's richest |
| With a bag of pills, couple berries and a biscuit |
| Trouble on my mind |
| I got trouble on my mind |
| Trouble on my mind |
| So much trouble on my mind |
| I’m a fucking walking paradox |
| And a really shitty rapper in my favorite pair of socks |
| Ironed pair of dockers, two Glocks cocked screamin', «West side!» |
| With the speakers blastin' a pair of Pacs |
| Yonkers 10 milli, you’re silly |
| Thinkin' that this 'preme wasn’t free, willy |
| The feeling is neutral, the gang is youthful |
| And fuckin' tighter than Chad Hugo’s pupils, it’s Wolf Gang and the |
| With the Re-Up's a helluva buzz |
| Rick James said cocaine’s a helluva drug |
| Who else could put the hipsters with felons and thugs |
| And paint a perfect picture of what sellin' it does? |
| This is for the critics, who doubted the chemistry |
| Two different worlds, same symmetry |
| And this black art, see the wizardry when you at the top |
| Of your game, you make enemies, you’ll never finish me |
| Trouble on my mind |
| I got trouble on my mind |
| Trouble on my mind |
| So much trouble on my mind |