Pain - Dolo Mic, SIC, Fes Taylor

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)