Tru Life - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game lyrics

[Chorus 2X: Sample] Get this thing through your head And they will never be no more Tell me, tell me, about it, damn it [Jae Millz] Aiyo, I move with a click that's wreckless And they ain't got no problem spraying your a**, like disinfectant So if I feel disrespected, I promise you family Your body gon' be hollow tip infested I come from the slums of the 212 H-Dub, Lennox Ave, f** you gon' do? We got wild clips duke, with things that'll hit you And leave a hole so big your moms could put a whole wrist through Homes, you don't wanna push me there To the point, I gotta leave you in a bush somewhere Nah, you don't wanna push me there It ain't worth it, dog, homeboy you better - better, huh Before I aim in you -- huh, it's real You heard Millz real, and better believe it stupid cuz -- Nah, come on, Slay you know who to holla at I'm heavy ever where from Harlem to the bottom where the rude boys and shottas sat Hell is what I'm giving em, f** hurtin', I'm k**ing em Got legends ready to pick back up they pen and spit again [Angelous] I nurture the track, the perfect of rap Its nonsense how the don, get curved it, to clap You miss me, simply, I a**erted the track Kay cla**ic, the same game, dog, with packs Mobsters with the arms up, feel the game wit me Bomb up, as I conduct, this is Ang' furry, huh I made berry, the whole league in Jones Beach And bake berry, the H jerry's is so sweet So brief, aim's gone, in the building O.G.'s ain't honor the brilliant, except for the minds That push the breathe, for the best to colide Better yet, I put the X in define Never fret, when it's beef, I put the pep' in the nine From your brain to my watch, you be ahead of my time Aim/shift, your brain wrist, the gate aimed to lift The game will keep going because Angelous exists, b**h [Chorus] [Cashmere] What up, it's Cashmere, ya, your new rap fellow We in hoods like the jam in '86, hello You know what that means? Ya'll the rap queen Bunch of b**h n***as, bow to your new king And after this there won't be no more You dudes, is full of hype, that's what TV's for So, get it through your head, or the nine'll leave, eight holes in your head Think I'm playing, n***a? I have my peeps pop out my the van And you lookin like, a soldier out of Pakistan Ask them dudes on this track, they'll tell you Cash the man Whatever he doing, trust me, I know I can I'm ahead of him, eight miles and running I'm done busting shots, the next hit, the bomb drops You co*ks**ers is about to die, and -- let's go, come on [Chorus] [Trife Da God] Either you get it through the head, or you get it through the leg Either way, you graze these bullets, is gonna leave you dead And I ain't freezin' up, when it's time to pull it, you heard what I said It's Theodore n***a, we all about the bread, n***as And it's time for a reality check, yet I'm celeb in the hood And I ain't even seen a salary yet Ya'll n***as flee when my calvary's step Staten Island we rep, stylin' to d**h, pumpin' gallons to wet And like Nick, yeah, I stay with the Cannon Lay in fours, get, kid you stuck wherever you standing Lay you on the strip, play you for a b**h, you punk p**y, you dealin' with crumbs, so stop actin' like you one tough cookie I'm not the greatest, I'm the latest, ya'll f*ggots is imitators Air you out like venilators, and bang you like skinned potatoes Cuz most of ya'll f*ggots is sounding like little Jada's [Maino] Yo, I speak for the Stuy, Brooklyn is mine, get it through your head 'Fore I round these bullets up and send them through your head Last n***a tried to stunt, left his hat full of lead Left the picture that your see, for the inside of F.E.D.S I want you to think, that my gun don't burst My tech'll make n***as back up like cars in reverse Definition of a thug, man, put in your work And n***a act up, you put his work in the earth Yeah, I'm hotter than you ever was, real? You never was Hustle hard, n***a, we get you, whatever d** Bet you none of ya'll seen, machine guns rattle So I let off, and let you feel the heat off the barrel My dogs rocked up, and got you when you hit the gravel Been a hard hitter, before the Mets signed Darryl I'm your reaper, when I blast the street sweeper You b**h n***as'll crack up like cheap sneakers [Chorus] [True Life] Yo, ya'll n***as keep talking greasy, like I won't melt ya'll See me in the streets, got more Smilez than Southstar Pull your socks up, homey, you know what I'm about, yo I was pushing rocks, you pushed the Roc, forgot yo's Lot of n***as thuggin', but not like me Put the fifth to your nose, for being nosey f** a throwback jersey, you trying to be Fabolous End your career, have you resurface like Canibus n***a's shouldn't have let me loose I'm well when I'm sober, imagine off Cran' and Grey Goose I'm liable to clap the tech Make you take that chain off, but I don't want a rash on my necklace sh**, we ain't the same calibur, listen, your don I treat ho's how I wanna, even got a bad blonde Got bad feet, so I hit her with her shoes on Get this through your head, 'fore I flip over, your Yukon [Bad Seed] Streetsweeper, co*k back, run up, where ya block at Gettin' money, stop that, where the f** ya'll rocks at Bandana on my face, thirty nine on my waist Shoot you if you try to run, n***a you ain't gettin' chased You was poppin' hella sh**, all that sh** irrelevant Sittin' on cake, and you waiting on the settlement I'm a grown man, never run, never ran And I don't play with kids, this ain't Never Never Land Brooklyn, f** that, crackers, where my nuts at? You get bucked at, crew you 'fore I Dutch hat I smoke 'Cocoa Brova', stay with a 'Smif-N-Wessun' Skip J in the Garden, and hit Slay session Bad Seed from the top of the hill It's still real though, Tarantino flow, keep it low, I k** Bill