Pain

[Intro]
When it’s on we don’t talk, my niggas aiming
Man down, we don’t care what the fuck you’re claiming
Chopper rounds wet his T, just like it’s raining
All my niggas ridin’ around putting fucking pain in
[x2]

[Hook]
(Work!)
Pain in, my shooters putting pain in
(Work!)
Pain in, my shooters putting pain in
(Work!)
Pain in, my shooters putting pain in
All my niggas ridin’ around putting fucking pain in

[Verse 1]
Young, fly nigga, catch me in the coupe
Bet I keep me a couple youngins that be itching to shoot
See me I’m the head of my troops
I might send them in groups
And tell them run in your crib and just knock off your roof
‘Cause I’m a boss, nigga
But I’m known to let the [retti?] spray
But keep a shooter on deck like Battier
My young nigga’s itching, he just wants to grab the K
And give you clips early while you’re trying to catch the matinee
Gun ‘em down, that’s what I call a Saturday
When I’m around, it’s only real Gs with me
A couple brick dealers and killers with no Twitters
But one thing that ain’t around me is no broke niggas
We get the money, and it flows like a faucet, nigga
I got the money that makes a killer off a nigga
Since [Low?] died I ain’t been the same, I lost it nigga
So when it’s on we don’t play, it’s like a forfeit nigga

[Bridge]
When it’s on we don’t talk, my niggas aiming
Man down, we don’t care what the fuck you’re claiming
Chopper rounds wet his T, just like it’s raining
All my niggas ridin’ around putting fucking pain in

[Hook]

[Verse 2]
I’m from a small block, these niggas can’t ride through
They’ll get a Mac in their window, no drive-thru
I’m five-five but that chopper like five-two
One hundred shots, I can’t miss you if I tried to
I’ll put a price on your head, [?]
I’ll get you hit by the niggas standing by you
I ain’t a street fighter, I’m no Ryu
I’ll send some heat by yuh, bullets ’ll fry you
I’m young and thugging in designer shit
My Fendi denim’s kind of snug, but that (Lama?) fit
My main bitch says I’m buggin’ but I’m trying to quit
But when niggas start to frontin’ then that llama spit
Bang! (bang)
What can I say? I’m just a young ‘Ville nigga
We don’t squash beef here, we just kill niggas
Free Phatz and Lu, young real niggas
[E and Beasley?] too, free my little niggas

[Bridge]

[Outro]
Work, pain in, pain in
(My shooter’s putting pain in)
Work, pain in, pain in
(My shooter’s putting pain in)
Work, pain in, pain in
All my niggas ridin’ around putting fucking pain in