[Intro]
When it’s on we don’t talk, my n*ggas aiming
Man down, we don’t care what the f*ck you’re claiming
Chopper rounds wet his T, just like it’s raining
All my n*ggas ridin’ around putting f*cking pain in
[x2]
[Hook]
(Work!)
Pain in, my shooters putting pain in
(Work!)
Pain in, my shooters putting pain in
(Work!)
Pain in, my shooters putting pain in
All my n*ggas ridin’ around putting f*cking pain in
[Verse 1]
Young, fly n*gga, catch me in the coupe
Bet I keep me a couple youngins that be itching to shoot
See me I’m the head of my troops
I might send them in groups
And tell them run in your crib and just knock off your roof
‘Cause I’m a boss, n*gga
But I’m known to let the [retti?] spray
But keep a shooter on deck like Battier
My young n*gga’s itching, he just wants to grab the K
And give you clips early while you’re trying to catch the matinee
Gun ‘em down, that’s what I call a Saturday
When I’m around, it’s only real Gs with me
A couple brick dealers and killers with no Twitters
But one thing that ain’t around me is no broke n*ggas
We get the money, and it flows like a faucet, n*gga
I got the money that makes a killer off a n*gga
Since [Low?] died I ain’t been the same, I lost it n*gga
So when it’s on we don’t play, it’s like a forfeit n*gga
[Bridge]
When it’s on we don’t talk, my n*ggas aiming
Man down, we don’t care what the f*ck you’re claiming
Chopper rounds wet his T, just like it’s raining
All my n*ggas ridin’ around putting f*cking pain in
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
I’m from a small block, these n*ggas can’t ride through
They’ll get a Mac in their window, no drive-thru
I’m five-five but that chopper like five-two
One hundred shots, I can’t miss you if I tried to
I’ll put a price on your head, [?]
I’ll get you hit by the n*ggas standing by you
I ain’t a street fighter, I’m no Ryu
I’ll send some heat by yuh, bullets ’ll fry you
I’m young and thugging in designer sh*t
My Fendi denim’s kind of snug, but that (Lama?) fit
My main b*tch says I’m buggin’ but I’m trying to quit
But when n*ggas start to frontin’ then that llama spit
Bang! (bang)
What can I say? I’m just a young ‘Ville n*gga
We don’t squash beef here, we just kill n*ggas
Free Phatz and Lu, young real n*ggas
[E and Beasley?] too, free my little n*ggas
[Bridge]
[Outro]
Work, pain in, pain in
(My shooter’s putting pain in)
Work, pain in, pain in
(My shooter’s putting pain in)
Work, pain in, pain in
All my n*ggas ridin’ around putting f*cking pain in