Luyện nghe bài hát Tired Of Pain

1

These niggaz listen to I say,
They can't see da I face,
only see da trouble I make,
Like da ten of weed I smuggled up state,
They say I don't respect life but just da hustle I hate,
To survive in game called life, you gotta have muscle and faith,
say I'm heading 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 that a 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 lookin 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 to change da game,
I pit in work, da nigga got paid, all of a here comes da fame,
But it pours whenever it rains,

1

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

2

We it gangster from Monday to Sunday,
Kids on da block, to gun play,
We live life da wrong way, just to get da sun to for one day,
gon die when da kids go hungry,
They da white T's,
ain't afraid to kill you for a pair of Nikies,
I look at life as a strife,
For now I'm alright till dem come and violate my rights,
ain't nice,
I'm of being criticized,
of being seen as a punk in these niggaz eyes,
I'm petrified,
How many times contemplated homicide,
So niggaz die,
me crazy,
I'm like da to ya food, call me gravy,
You can't me,
Ikay yo,
I'm to stay yo,
I keep floatin like an on a halo,
Things the same yo,
change yo,
Kinda bro,

2

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