Nate The Hitmaker - Pain lyrics

[Intro] When it's on we don't talk, my n***as aiming Man down, we don't care what the f** you're claiming Chopper rounds wet his T, just like it's raining All my n***as ridin' around putting f**ing 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 n***as ridin' around putting f**ing pain in [Verse 1] Young, fly n***a, 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, n***a But I'm known to let the [retti?] spray But keep a shooter on deck like Battier My young n***a'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 k**ers with no Twitters But one thing that ain't around me is no broke n***as We get the money, and it flows like a faucet, n***a I got the money that makes a k**er off a n***a Since [Low?] died I ain't been the same, I lost it n***a So when it's on we don't play, it's like a forfeit n***a [Bridge] When it's on we don't talk, my n***as aiming Man down, we don't care what the f** you're claiming Chopper rounds wet his T, just like it's raining All my n***as ridin' around putting f**ing pain in [Hook] [Verse 2] I'm from a small block, these n***as 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 n***as 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 sh** My Fendi denim's kind of snug, but that (Lama?) fit My main b**h says I'm buggin' but I'm trying to quit But when n***as start to frontin' then that llama spit Bang! (bang) What can I say? I'm just a young ‘Ville n***a We don't squash beef here, we just k** n***as Free Phatz and Lu, young real n***as [E and Beasley?] too, free my little n***as [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 n***as ridin' around putting f**ing pain in