Luyện nghe bài hát Tired Of Pain

1

These niggaz listen to I say,
can't see da struggle I face,
They 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 this 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 me for this one,
How can a kid be fun,
get it twisted,
Don't be mad that a nigga wit a flow this existed,
I'm gifted,
My rhyme is and da time is right,
For me to blow up and tonight,
My girl fine tonight,
in grey and white,
She's beggin me to 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 still whenever 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,
on da block, exposed to gun play,
We life 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 you for a pair of Nikies,
I at life as just a strife,
For now I'm alright dem cops come 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 I've contemplated homicide,
So many die,
me crazy,
I'm like da flavor to ya food, me gravy,
You can't me,
It's 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 know it is,
on, come 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! Come on, on!
Yea, uh.

3

I live my on da edge,
I da streets, hate da feds,
Carry a lot of weight a sledge,
Why niggaz wanna see me beg,
Bet love me if I'm dead,
I hate my birthday, celebrate it,
5th of august is my worst day, damn I it,
What da kids that never made it,
I pour out some from them,
And for my niggaz 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 kids roam da streets and idle,
rollin wit rifles, they neglect da bible,
This is just a strifle,
I don't do music,
I do music,
Songs for my niggaz to wit,
When da drop, I got da streets locked,
I'm not,
One of the se called rappers to be Pac,
And I'm not BIG,
I'm just a kid,
Aiming for da sky, million coupes and black cribs,
Niggaz up in da truck,
Kay whassup!
Em broads wanna wit us,
No more cops wit 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 niggaz like me get 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, take da pain 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.