Fat Joe — Pain

[Intro] Darkside Coca The Don Yeah, woo! [Verse 1] Pack a magazine just in case I gotta clap a boy for fuckin' up my vibe Ever since I'm 17 had them jumpin' jacks hoppin' in and out of rides Nobody, that Keith Wweat, nobody like rejects Stuck up Mister Softee with the wall with the Brooklyn Deceps Where you think the scar came from, nigga? We been mobbin' since day one, nigga When the cops rush, niggas had to run, stash the cracks in the pay phone nigga! Damn, Mr. President, triple gold diamond bezzled it Heavy is the head that wears the crown in the tub screamin' fly pelican In the rooftops flipped pigeons, niggas losin' their religion Gold, lots of those over Coca-Cola, sweaters pitchin' what was stitched in [Interlude] What you know about pain? I know about pain, nigga Yeah, uh! [Verse 2] Against all odds, Phil Collins, hear her callin' In The Air Of The Night That sound of crack fiends in tag teams suckin' air out the pipe Down the block from where it began took his last breath, dirty mattress, uh I feel like Al Capone how they did him dirty for them fuckin' taxes, uh Rest in peace Cato, that Chi-Raq, I sling that bitch In the elevator goin up with B.I.G., Meech thinkin', "Damn he rich" Madoff made off like Robin Hood on them Wall Street kids Work of art, the Basciat depend on what brush you paint it with [Outro] Uh, Darkside 3!