Luyện nghe bài hát Tired Of Pain

1

These niggaz to nothing I say,
can't see da struggle I face,
They only see da I make,
Like da ten of weed I smuggled up state,
say I don't respect life but it's just da hustle I hate,
To survive in this game called life, you have muscle and faith,
They say I'm heading for da top with song,
I'm hot wit song,
Da gon love me for this one,
How can a kid be fun,
get it twisted,
Don't be mad that a nigga wit a like this existed,
I'm gifted,
My rhyme is tight and da is right,
For me to blow up and tonight,
My girl lookin tonight,
in grey and white,
She's me to stay 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 pours whenever it rains,

1

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

2

We keep it from Monday to Sunday,
Kids on da block, to gun play,
We live da wrong way, just to get da sun to shine for one day,
Niggaz gon die when da go hungry,
They da white 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 of being criticized,
Tired of being 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 an angel on a halo,
ain't the same yo,
Friends yo,
strange bro,

2

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

3

I my life on da edge,
I love da streets, da feds,
a lot of weight like a sledge,
Why niggaz wanna see me beg,
Bet love 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 liquor them,
And pray for my 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 kids roam da streets and idle,
They rollin wit rifles, neglect da bible,
This is just a strifle,
I do club music,
I do music,
Songs for my to cruise wit,
da beat drop, I got da streets locked,
I'm not,
One of the se rappers tryin to be Pac,
And I'm not BIG,
I'm a black kid,
Aiming for da sky, million dollar coupes and cribs,
Niggaz up in da truck,
Kay whassup!
Em broads wanna wit us,
No cops wit handcuffs lockin my niggaz up,
We just 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 niggaz 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 shit da poor doin fine,
Ghetto kids don't want no degree, they 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.