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Pain
by
Young Lito
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Lyrics
When it's on we don't talk, my niggas aiming Man down, we don't care what the f*ck you're claiming Chopper rounds wet his T, just like it's raining All my niggas ridin' around putting f*cking pain in [x2] (Work!) Pain in, my shooters putting pain in (Work!) Pain in, my shooters putting pain in (Work!) Pain in, my shooters putting pain in All my niggas ridin' around putting f*cking pain in Young, fly nigga, catch me in the coupe Bet I keep me a couple youngins that be itching to shoot See me I'm the head of my troops I might send them in groups And tell them run in your crib and just knock off your roof ‘Cause I'm a boss, nigga But I'm known to let the [retti?] spray But keep a shooter on deck like Battier My young nigga's itching, he just wants to grab the K And give you clips early while you're trying to catch the matinee Gun ‘em down, that's what I call a Saturday When I'm around, it's only real Gs with me A couple brick dealers and killers with no Twitters But one thing that ain't around me is no broke niggas We get the money, and it flows like a faucet, nigga I got the money that makes a killer off a nigga Since [Low?] died I ain't been the same, I lost it nigga So when it's on we don't play, it's like a forfeit nigga When it's on we don't talk, my niggas aiming Man down, we don't care what the f*ck you're claiming Chopper rounds wet his T, just like it's raining All my niggas ridin' around putting f*cking pain in I'm from a small block, these niggas can't ride through They'll get a Mac in their window, no drive-thru I'm five-five but that chopper like five-two One hundred shots, I can't miss you if I tried to I'll put a price on your head, [?] I'll get you hit by the niggas standing by you I ain't a street fighter, I'm no Ryu I'll send some heat by yuh, bullets 'll fry you I'm young and thugging in designer shit My Fendi denim's kind of snug, but that (Lama?) fit My main bitch says I'm buggin' but I'm trying to quit But when niggas start to frontin' then that llama spit Bang! (bang) What can I say? I'm just a young ‘Ville nigga We don't squash beef here, we just kill niggas Free Phatz and Lu, young real niggas [E and Beasley?] too, free my little niggas Work, pain in, pain in (My shooter's putting pain in) Work, pain in, pain in (My shooter's putting pain in) Work, pain in, pain in All my niggas ridin' around putting f*cking pain in
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