Cappadonna - Pain Is Love (feat. Lounge Mode & Solomon Childs) Lyrics
f/ Lounge Mode, Solomon Childs[Chorus: Cappadonna]Pain is love, that's what this nigga told meI keep washin' my face with blunts and O.EMix coke with dust, still can hold meWhat made ya mutha*****as think you control me?[Lounge Mode]Staten Island been wildin', so Osama's nothingAnd my niggaz out in Brooklyn said Saddam was frontin'Gotta squad, what you think, it ain't no guns or something?Picture Me Rollin', holdin' less than a one or somethin'You fake faggots, yeah we got that big automaticLike, Bruce Willis and the Jackal type, yeah, rightYou wanna see it? Then get on my nervesOh you live, and I'm gettin' money spit on my curbIn the hood where it get no harder, only tougherCrack fiends suffer, baby moms, baby brotherHustlin', still forty off a hundred packsI'd rather lounge in the back of the barMe and my dog throw crack in the jarListen to this rap star, while I sit back in the carAnd I told ya'll niggaz how the Staten rockWe don't, trick on chicks, yo we clap them shotsYou get caught if you ask a lot, like you don't knowAnd where you at, then ya ass is got[Chorus][Solomon Childs]We bringin' back the Twin Towers, 20-0-3, crack game electronicConceived with slow jams by The DelfonicsAt a level that you should of been years agoResponsible usually for coke traffic, usually for broken bone tragicRest in peace, to Mayor Guliani's termThey say I'm wrong, shitI'm try'nna see 26, with my daughters at the Emmy AwardsAll around the ball glowin', they got the weed flow droughtedOr maybe niggaz in the hood just ain't 'bout itTalkin' Hercules, and ain't nothin' but dog foodStaten Island, New York City droolsCrazy glue on my fingerprintsName on the concrete of my hood, what's really good?Vendetta's with these rap starsFrontin' like this crime and the pet is they carsBelieve I was God in my last lifeWhat if it was your knife? What if they was your gloves, nigga..[Chorus][Cappadonna]Aiyo, I came into this game on some real love shitAnd ya'll ***** ass niggaz, ya'll wanted me to quitBecause the way I dress ill and the way that I spitBut I ain't never gon' stop, droppin' these jointsAnd ya'll fake ass niggaz, ya'll ain't gettin' no pointsDon't try to sabotage me, cuz you just can't do itYou had me in the Square, last year, but you blew itBig Donna from the group home, that's my wordSplash shots at your whip, splash shots at your birdLeave your brains and your Gucci boots up on the curbPillage for life, Allah's will be the most superbSmoke weed with the cannon, smoke the herbSo bow down, all you crab ass clowns you can't liveMy gun's on empty, but it's more shots to giveI pop you like a slave cop, run in your cribThrow darts at your wife, throw darts at your kidLeave your house flooded with hits like O.J. didEscapin' the crime scene and you love how I slid[Chorus]
