Artist: Streetlife f/ D.C., Shyheim Album: Wu-Box: The Cream of the Clan Song: Pain Typed by: Tha Masta, Cno Evil [sampled singer] Never in my life.. before.. have I ever cried the way I cried for you because you abused me.. to amuse your friends and you used me... that's how your story ends and I turn around and love you... [Intro: Streetlife] Yeah, uh, yeah, uh-huh, yeah, yeah.. I ain't dead yet.. yo.. yo.. [Streetlife] Feel my pain, I'm hurting the same Rest in piece to Andre Ang You filled the Loose Link to the chain Homicide Housing - we still bang on the regular Ain't nothing changed, we still bang on the regular I heard niggaz wanted me dead, come and get me I'm ready to die and I'm taking niggaz with me It only takes one time, I'm a fast learner Next time feel the pfft from the burner Lick shots, spin you around like Nat Turner You can't tell me nothing, you gots to show me BLAOW! Take you to ya chest, die slowly You could keep ya money, ya chain and ya Rolie This is not a robbery, it's a homicide That's what happens when real niggaz collide You're better off dead, instead, commit suicide Go man, shoot yaself in the head, when will you realize? I'm one man, enterprise, let me improvise Niggaz like me, we never die, we multiply I'm from the darkside of the Street, who wanna ride? Body shots to leave you permanently paralyzed You can talk slick, act sick I leave your body, wrapped in plastic, you bastard You got a gun, but you won't blast it, you ass kid You'd rather get bagged than do a bid than fuck with son I don't give a fuck who you is or where you from Anybody can get it, watch how I Hit 'Em Up Run up on ya ride, cocktail bomb ya truck Yeah.. nigga! [Shyheim] I'm street intelligent Puffin' that tranquilizer that they give to elephants Get out of line, like a little kid, colorin' I body your ass, then bury your ass Then dig you back the fuck up, to shoot up your skeletons For talkin' all that jazz, like you Duke Ellington I melt your shit, like when sun do, people with no melennin Shy, the 21st Century Crisis, spittin' shit And piss on niggaz, like they C.O.'s on Riker's Death arrived, the last face you'll ever see is Shy's Had my hand's wrapped around more necks than Armani ties Came through in the M-5, tinted and kitted The color of spinach, with Monica and Mya in it I inspired, The Boy Is Mine Remix And the begets on my wrists be the size of Cheez-It's I be gettin' it, ever since I could remember That's why I post a million dollar bail like Beretta I crush your mic, I crush your mic twice I move like Saddam, I got twenty look-a-likes Wear twenty different color Nike's I'm like Ghost, I keep a bird on my arm flooded with ice [D.C.] Fuck a dollar and dream Gimme llamas with the hollows in the Beams Automatics or revolvers in my jeans Wanna problem, nigga? Holla at my team Loose Links bang like a chain gang wilding in their green And I slang 'caine, bottle to these fiends My heroine trains on their veins And I watch 'em when they lean These coppers can't stop us, let 'em scheme Even if they're plotting with the choppers and the SWATters and marines Wanna watch us cuz I watch this Maureen Think I got a pact with Iraq cuz the rockets and machines I be popping when they try to intervene Cash Rules Everything Around Me, y'all remember C.R.E.A.M.? Wanna act? I star you in a scene You could get the part with the nigga with the chalk around his team When I spark three, an article to read You're somewhere in the park in the dark, kinda hard for you to breathe or the part where it's hard for you to leave cuz Donnie got it locked in the glock, it ain't hard for you to squeeze