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