The Pain Lyrics - Michael - Michael Jackson

Damn... 

I don't do this for fun man 

It's my job, dawg 

All you see is the videos and the rings and the watch 

And the bracelet, and chains 

And you know, grills and more chains 

Another chain on top of that 

And another ring on another finger, and another grill 

And then I switch grills and then I change chains 

And that's all you see, but you know 

'Ey 

I wake up early in the morning 

Hit the snooze button for hours 

Get up, hop into a two hundred thousand dollar shower 

Brush my teeth when I'm out it 

Remote start the Audi 

Kiss my boy, kiss my girl, kiss my wife, and then I'm outtie 

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Damn 

Grind time from a struggle to a hussle 

"Aw man"s to "God damn"s 

From a clam to a mussel 

I ain't say you had it better 

But damn, did I tussle 

I ain't have much 

But if you tried to take it, I'll bust ya 

It feels like I done died 

'Cause every time I drive my past life flash 

Right in front of my eyes 

'Cause I'm not one of them guys 

That don't remember shit, 

Can't even go home and drive alone in this whip 

'Cause everybody want him gone 

But you got me fucked up 

If a nigga gon' be on YouTube saying' 

I ain't from my bowin' homes [?] 

Photos 

So I'm gonna keep goin' strong 

And let you niggas go out of season 

As long as my kids is breathin' 

I'm doing this for a lot of reason 

I do it for my kids and they kids' kids 

And when I'm dead they come to my grave 

To tell me what they kids did, yeah 

I'mma tell 'em my style and how long I has hated on about it 

And how it took twenty minutes to make a song about it 

Even though I was young I was actin' grown about it 

Took some years, but eventually they left me 'lone about it 

Old folks cheering' me on 'cause they know I got it 

They see niggas get in the game and fold like origami 

But the only foldin' I'm doin' is when I'm at shows poppin' 

Got 'em fainting' like Michael Jackson, straight hos droppin' 

Then I go home, safely homie, there's no robbin' 

Gated community 

You gotta know the code, partna 

Walk up to the crib 

Lamborghini look so proper 

And six old-schools sittin' on 24" choppas 

White folks in my neighborhood think I'm the Dalai Lama 

'Specially when I come outside like roo sticky dima [?] 

But everything good gotta turn bad 

It's like the weekly drama, 

You know, lil' small shit, 

Like girls saying' they my baby mama 

But this music has made me calmer 

I now understand karma 

These niggas is mad, 

They wanna assassinate me 

Like Barack Obama 

But I graduated, School of Hard Knocks, summa cum laude 

On the side of the stage 

Like I am really 'bout to fuck this crowd up 

That makes me prouder, makes me a man 

If you ain't doin' what I'm' doin' 

You automatically a fan 

Damn, get on your knees please 

And praise God that he sent you somebody 

That can just tell you niggas these things 

Radio Killa, R&B King, T.P. 

The Music Jesus 

A.K.A. the Lord of the Three Rings