Luyện nghe bài hát Tired Of Pain

1

These niggaz to nothing I say,
They can't see da I face,
They only see da I make,
Like da ten of weed I smuggled up state,
They say I don't life but it's just da hustle I hate,
To survive in this game life, you gotta have muscle and faith,
They say I'm for da top with this song,
I'm hot wit song,
Da streets gon love me for one,
How can a kid be fun,
get it twisted,
Don't be mad a nigga wit a flow like this existed,
I'm gifted,
My rhyme is and da time is right,
For me to up and shine tonight,
My girl fine tonight,
in grey and white,
She's beggin me to the night,
So I can lay the pipe,
All my game is tight,
da name,
I'm here to da game,
I pit in work, da nigga got paid, all of a sudden comes da fame,
But it still pours it rains,

1

Come on, on!
up in this,
Come on, on!
Who else got a flow this,
Come on, come on! on, come on!
Uh, yea, uh!

2

We keep it gangster Monday to Sunday,
on da block, exposed to gun play,
We live life da wrong way, just to get da sun to for one day,
Niggaz gon die when da go hungry,
They rock da T's,
They ain't afraid to kill you for a of Nikies,
I look at life as a strife,
For now I'm alright till dem cops and violate my rights,
ain't nice,
I'm tired of criticized,
Tired of being seen as a punk in niggaz eyes,
I'm petrified,
How many times contemplated homicide,
So many die,
me crazy,
I'm like da flavor to ya food, me gravy,
You play me,
Ikay yo,
I'm here to yo,
I keep like an angel on a halo,
ain't the same yo,
Friends yo,
Kinda bro,

2

Come on, on!
You what it is,
on, come on!
Come wit da kid,
Come on, on!
up in this,
Come on, on!
Brooklyn! is it,
Come on, on!
Jamrock in shit,
Come on, on! Come on, come on!
Yea, uh.

3

I my life on da edge,
I da streets, hate da feds,
Carry a lot of like a sledge,
Why these niggaz see me beg,
Bet love me if I'm dead,
I hate my birthday, never it,
5th of august is my day, damn I hate it,
What da kids that never made it,
I pour out some liquor them,
And for my niggaz up in da pen,
I'm to live my life, tryin to get it right,
I to god at nights,
He never back, why is that,
On my kids roam da streets and idle,
rollin wit rifles, they neglect da bible,
This life is a strifle,
I do club music,
I do music,
Songs for my to cruise wit,
When da beat drop, I got da locked,
I'm not,
One of the se called tryin to be Pac,
And I'm not BIG,
I'm just a kid,
Aiming for da sky, dollar coupes and black cribs,
pull up in da truck,
Kay whassup!
Em wanna ball wit us,
No cops wit handcuffs lockin my niggaz up,
We roam da block,
Go to mansion, ball wit Pac,
It's my street dreams,
lights, big screens,
big greens,
If I believe,
Will I
So many like me get killed in da streets,
And if I die, who cry,
So many in my life,
at Shyne,
Niggaz buss at him, he back, now he in prison doin time,
The sit, don't give a shit thinking da poor doin fine,
Ghetto don't want no degree, they wanna be on da streets pursuing crime,
Cuz that's all they know, can't da pain no more,
So be on thug patrol,
Ha ha ha...

3

Come on, on!
wit ya boy,
Come on, on!
wit ya boy,
Come on, on!

Kay nigga,
You how we do.