Luyện nghe bài hát Tired Of Pain

1

These niggaz to nothing I say,
They see da struggle I face,
They see da trouble I make,
Like da ten pounds of weed I up state,
They say I don't respect but it's 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 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 a nigga 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,
Dressed in and white,
beggin 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 sudden comes da fame,
But it still pours it rains,

1

Come on, on!
up in this,
Come on, on!
Who else got a flow 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 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 look at as just a strife,
For now I'm alright till dem cops and violate my rights,
ain't nice,
I'm tired of criticized,
Tired of being seen as a punk in these eyes,
I'm petrified,
How many times I've homicide,
So many die,
me crazy,
I'm da flavor 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,
Things the same yo,
Friends yo,
Kinda bro,

2

Come on, on!
You what it is,
on, come on!
Come wit da kid,
Come on, 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 my life on da edge,
I da streets, hate da feds,
Carry a lot of weight a sledge,
Why these 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 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 roam da streets and idle,
They wit rifles, they neglect da bible,
This is just a strifle,
I don't do music,
I do music,
Songs for my to cruise 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, dollar coupes and black cribs,
Niggaz up in da truck,
Kay whassup!
Em broads ball wit us,
No more cops wit lockin my niggaz up,
We just 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 pain in my life,
at Shyne,
Niggaz at him, he buss back, now he in prison doin time,
The rich sit, don't a shit thinking da poor doin fine,
Ghetto kids want no degree, they wanna be on da streets 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.