2Pac ft. Styles P, Butch Cassidy - Pain Lyrics

I couldn't help but notice your pain
My pain?
It runs deep; share it with me!

They'll never take me alive, I'm gettin' high with my four-five
Cocked on these suckas, time to die
Even as a youngster causin' ruckus on the back of the bus
I was a fool all through high school, kickin' up dust
But now I'm labeled as a troublemaker; who can you blame?
Smokin' weed helped me take away the pain
So I'm hopeless rollin' down the freeway swervin', don't worry
I'm about to crash up on the curb 'cause my vision's blurry
Maybe if they tried to understand me; what should I do?
I had to feed my fuckin' family; what else could I do
But be a thug? Out slangin' with the homies
Fuck hangin' with them phonies in the club!
Got my mind on danger; never been a stranger to homicide
My city's full of gang bangers and drive bys
Why do we die at an early age?
He was so young but still a victim of the 12 gauge
My memories of a corpse, mind full of sick thoughts
And I ain't goin back to court, so fuck what you thought!
I'm drinkin' Hennessey, runnin' from my enemies
Will I live to be 23? There's so much pain

Ohhhh
Tired of the strain and the pain
Ohhhh
Tired of the strain and the pain

Years and years of that rough life
Runnin' crazed and wild as a kid and growin' tough with a knife
And livin' trifed on the regular, buckin' out competitors
See 'em fake a move and chase them down
Like the fuckin' Predator
Get in trouble everyday in school, act a fool
And you know I had to break every rule
Showin' off for the bitches, 'cause I had the mad rep
So I had to watch my back when it was time to step
But my grimies is the grimiest with love for me
Pop, pop, pop, and send a chuckle up above for me
Ayo, currency kept passing me by, but I didn't cry, broke
Got hit off with the pack and started sellin' coke
And now the money's looking lovely
Pop the drop top and now the bitches wanna rub me
Kick 'em the game, it's all the same
I kick it back, yo; give 'em slack, yo
And now they label me the mack, yo, people check it
Get disrespected if you front on the Birdman, you heard, man
Catch a couple shots from the Glock in my hand
Damn! At least I'm realistic with my biscuit
You know you get your ass twisted, so run for cover
Me and my man got a plan, kickin' major dust
So if you're on, nigga, look for the gauge to bust
A lot of pressure with the street fame, it's a deep game
And my mama always cryin', yo, there's so much pain

Ohhhh
Tired of the strain and the pain
Ohhhh
Tired of the strain and the pain

They got me mobbin' like I'm loc'ed, ready to get my slug on
And I load my clip and slip my motherfuckin' gloves on
I ain't scared to blast on these suckas if they test me
Trust – I got my Glock cocked, playa, if they press me
Bust – on motherfuckers with a passion
Better duck, 'cause I ain't looking when I'm blastin'
I'm a nut, and drinkin' Hennessey and gettin' high
On the lookout for my enemies, don't wanna die
Tell me why, 'cause this stress is gettin' major
A buck 50 across the face with my razor
What can I do but be a thug until I'm dead and gone?
Keep my brain on the game and stay head strong
These sorry bastards want to kill me in my sleep
I'm real they cannot see
And everyday is just a struggle, steady thuggin' on the streets
And I'll be ballin', loc, don't let 'em make you worry
Keep swingin' at these suckas till you buried
I was born to raise hell, a nigga from the gutta
Word to mother I'm trapped, I'm kickin' dust up, ready to bust
I'm on the scene, steady muggin' mean until they kill me
I'll be livin this life, I know you feel me; there's so much pain

Ohhh
Tired of the strain and the pain
Ohhh
Tired of the strain and the pain
Ohhh
Tired of the strain and the pain
Ohhh
Tired of the strain and the pain
Ohhh