Pain Inside of Me Songtext
von Quando Rondo
Pain Inside of Me Songtext
She say she want a real street nigga, who for sure gon′ keep it G
Know you ain't really been hurt ′less you felt what's inside of me
Walked by the store in my black Forces, cargo pants, and all-white tee
The fact I got it out the mud might be the reason I sip lean
Think 'bout the chances that I took, it could′ve sent me to the pen
I thought ′bout Scooter on this hook
This off the head, I ain't need no pen
I taught the topic of the book, stay out the way, run up some bands
Reason my pockets super full, count your finesse, finesse, finesse
Finesse, finesse, finessed by a finesser
Nobody safe, they ever play, they gon′ get put up on that stretcher
We catch an opp, we up the score, that glizzy sound like a Beretta
That ain't no cap, my life a movie, bitch, and I ain′t got no director
Post in the trap, got Glocks, got Uzis
Got anything that's bound to wet ′em
I always tote that 30-30, bitch, you know I fuck with FNs
Finesse, finesse, count captain jugg
Bitch, I learned that from Young Jefe
Lil' lil' one, he the biggest flexer, Quando, hold on, what you doing
She say she want a real street nigga who for sure gon′ keep it G
Know you ain′t really been hurt 'less you felt what′s inside of me
Walked by the store in my black Forces, cargo pants, and all-white tee
The fact I got it out the mud might be the reason I sip lean
Think 'bout the chances that I took, it could′ve sent me to the pen
I thought 'bout Scooter on this hook
This off the head, I ain′t need no pen
I taught the topic of the book, stay out the way, run up some bands
Reason my pockets super full, count your finesse, finesse, finesse
Know you ain't really been hurt ′less you felt what's inside of me
Walked by the store in my black Forces, cargo pants, and all-white tee
The fact I got it out the mud might be the reason I sip lean
Think 'bout the chances that I took, it could′ve sent me to the pen
I thought ′bout Scooter on this hook
This off the head, I ain't need no pen
I taught the topic of the book, stay out the way, run up some bands
Reason my pockets super full, count your finesse, finesse, finesse
Finesse, finesse, finessed by a finesser
Nobody safe, they ever play, they gon′ get put up on that stretcher
We catch an opp, we up the score, that glizzy sound like a Beretta
That ain't no cap, my life a movie, bitch, and I ain′t got no director
Post in the trap, got Glocks, got Uzis
Got anything that's bound to wet ′em
I always tote that 30-30, bitch, you know I fuck with FNs
Finesse, finesse, count captain jugg
Bitch, I learned that from Young Jefe
Lil' lil' one, he the biggest flexer, Quando, hold on, what you doing
She say she want a real street nigga who for sure gon′ keep it G
Know you ain′t really been hurt 'less you felt what′s inside of me
Walked by the store in my black Forces, cargo pants, and all-white tee
The fact I got it out the mud might be the reason I sip lean
Think 'bout the chances that I took, it could′ve sent me to the pen
I thought 'bout Scooter on this hook
This off the head, I ain′t need no pen
I taught the topic of the book, stay out the way, run up some bands
Reason my pockets super full, count your finesse, finesse, finesse
Writer(s): Tyquian Bowman, Miguel Flores Curtidor, Liam Mcalister Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com