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 pounds of I smuggled up state,
They say I don't respect life but just da hustle I hate,
To survive in this game called life, you gotta muscle and faith,
They say I'm heading for da top 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 tight and da is right,
For me to blow up and tonight,
My lookin fine tonight,
in grey and white,
She's me to stay the night,
So I can lay the pipe,
All because my 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 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 life da way, just to get da sun to shine for one day,
gon die when da kids go hungry,
They da white T's,
They ain't to kill you for a pair of Nikies,
I look at life as a strife,
For now I'm alright till dem cops come and my rights,
Shit nice,
I'm of being criticized,
of being seen as a punk in these niggaz eyes,
I'm petrified,
How many I've 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 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,
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,
Come on, come on! on, come on!
Yea, uh.

3

I live my on da edge,
I love da streets, da feds,
Carry a lot of weight a sledge,
Why these niggaz see me beg,
Bet love me if I'm dead,
I my birthday, never celebrate it,
5th of august is my day, damn I hate it,
What about da kids that made it,
I pour out liquor from 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,
rollin wit rifles, they neglect da bible,
This life is 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 a black kid,
for da sky, million dollar coupes and black 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 thugz mansion, 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 pain in my life,
at Shyne,
Niggaz buss at him, he back, now he in prison doin time,
The rich sit, don't give a shit da poor doin fine,
Ghetto kids don't no degree, they wanna be on da streets pursuing crime,
Cuz that's all know, can't take 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.