C-Bo

C-Bo - No Pain No Gain lyrics

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Now it's on  flip me at '7 8 Coupe
 Reds  hydraulics  duece  representin the do
 and you can trip if ya wanna  but  boy  you be's a goner
 Leavin bloody footprints from Sacramento to Palmona
 I'm a dog when it come to this gangsta shit
 A young hog from the block and never shrank to fit
 Roll with the Hoovers and the E C's  avalon watchin L B's
 Compton  Track New Park  the S P C's
 Bakersfield, Fresno, Seven Trees
 Duece nine outlies N-S-G's
 My Bgz got to trippin when the homey got soaked
 when they heard about the shootout that *?I so?* called for Bo-Loc
 As I ride, ride til I die
 Best to hide, nigga, when I hit your block
 I bring death on the suckers when my Glock is cocked
 I got hops in my Coupe, a pocket full of loot
 and it don't matter who start to funk when you're ridin with the do
 We just handle that shit like the locs that we is
 Hit them niggas quick, fuck the bitches and the kids
 Split wigs, watch graves get digged
 Representin to the fullest, Guard Block Crib
 Niggas wanna trip, well eat hollow tips
 Never could you hang with my gang, no pain, no gain

 Chorus:

 Hoo-ride, mass slaughter, murder
 Madmen, deadliest lyrical server
 There is no higher, they gets no curver
 Get em up close range, empty fullies and get further
 *repeat*

 Who got that gangsta, gangsta shit?
 It be the niggas who got the biggest nuts and the gat that packs the
 fullest clip
 Gotta have more chips than a grab bag full of Doritos
 Keep your bitch broken, make sure your pockets stay full of C-notes
 Hardcore gangsta, fillin out a 20 year old nut
 Gotta keep composure, puffin doja and it got me stuck
 I'm down your strip, hopin I can pull a lick
 Got an extra clip in case I have to zip a nigga's lip
 Oh yes, my Dayna's look quite lovely
 Pull up on your bitch's pit while you and your crew try to mug me
 Huffin and puffin like, daddy
 Gotcha ridin out eight-deep in your '96 Caddy
 You tried to fuck but could do nothin but make my dick hard
 You tried to dump so I had to creep and pull your whole card
 Ya best respect or get checked by the Smith & Wess
 Fuck a vest, hollows hit harder than a math test

 Chorus

 I never stop bringin pain, it's difficult for haters
 Never spit game, the same speakers are our greatest
 Make ya take your last breath, fuck it, where my payment?
 I'm blazin up doja, this soldier regulate your statement
 Some niggas is bangin, some niggas' just about the cash
 Some flatline snitches miss me, look up on ass
 I avoid the drama, tricks never to be toy with
 Get as high as you want, irrelevant who you fuck with
 Eight off, ran from the lead, cock the buck shit
 You're whole mouthpiece spillin discharge, to verify we hit hard
 Women do these timbos
 Mind style missions, puttin the mashdown on nymphos
 My son, labelled the Funky Nigga, plugs wit everybody
 that's sittin on dividends, we filin down fully pants
 Rapidly goin down, ain't comin back around
 Release rounds, just terrorize your town

 Chorus
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Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Language: English

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