Luyện nghe bài hát Tired Of Pain

1

These listen to nothing I say,
They see da struggle I face,
They only see da I make,
Like da ten of weed I smuggled up state,
They say I don't respect life but it's da hustle I hate,
To survive in game called life, you gotta have muscle and faith,
They say I'm heading for da top this song,
I'm hot wit song,
Da streets gon me for this one,
How can a kid be fun,
get it twisted,
Don't be mad that a nigga wit a flow like existed,
I'm gifted,
My rhyme is and da time is right,
For me to blow up and tonight,
My girl fine tonight,
Dressed in and white,
She's me to stay the night,
So I can lay the pipe,
All because my 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 got a flow like this,
Come on, on! Come on, come on!
Uh, yea, uh!

2

We keep it gangster from to Sunday,
Kids on da block, to gun play,
We live life da way, just to get da sun to shine for one day,
Niggaz gon die da kids go hungry,
They da white T's,
They ain't afraid to you for a pair of Nikies,
I look at as just a strife,
For now I'm alright till dem cops come and my rights,
Shit 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 da flavor to ya food, call me gravy,
You play me,
Ikay yo,
I'm to stay yo,
I keep floatin like an on a halo,
Things the same yo,
Friends yo,
strange bro,

2

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

3

I live my 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 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 liquor from them,
And pray for my up in da pen,
I'm tryin to my life, tryin to get it right,
I to god at nights,
He never back, why is that,
On my block kids roam da and idle,
They rollin wit rifles, neglect da bible,
This is just a strifle,
I do club music,
I do music,
Songs for my niggaz to 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, million dollar 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 just my 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 buss back, now he in prison time,
The rich sit, don't give a thinking da poor doin fine,
Ghetto kids don't want no degree, wanna be on da streets pursuing crime,
Cuz that's all they know, can't take da 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.