'Pain' se estrenó en 1998. Este tema está incluido en el disco 'Dirty Weaponry'

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Pain

\"You feel some pain, but I'm known, you can't here me\"
\"Get out of my head\"

What, (\"You feel some pain\")
It's like this, what, what
Check it out, yo

This is war niggaz, a duel to the death
You better make sure your swords sharp
And you got a lyin' heart
'Cause, I strike for the throat
And stab them with a deadly note
That pierces the eardrums
Those are the equally grim
Now you're stunned
Another victim of the Shogun
A spinal chop to the cerebellum
So, go ahead, try to run in advance
'Cause I stand firm on my warrior stance
Ready to be-head you, dead you
Rid your body of a soul, make it an empty vessel
Because, your rhymes ain't punctual
My actual or factual, that's why I verbally attack you

Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo check this
Thousand dollar line for line paragraph causin' ruckus
Towards y'all, weak motherfuckin' analog niggaz
Tryin' to come into the mist of my digital shit
You get flipped on, snapped on your collar bone
And a spike, cause I don't like snake niggaz in my eyesight
'Cause, I'm so agile and so quick to pull
My razor blade sharp sword out the case
And chop your face, disgrace y'all to another place with
No traces left behind, where the body was laid out
For the coroners to figure out
That it was one swing from the guillotine
That decapitated his head from his shoulders

\"You can't here me\"
\"Get out of my head\"

Yo, we're holdin' straps of fire to make gunmen retire
Or pisteens slugs that penetrated your entire
Physical, that left niggaz critical
Killarmy the black son to make all fuckin' nine planets digable
With the science to control ninety-nine, keep all minds aligned
All the selfish will be dealt with by the nine
M-M which stands for marksman, regard the last swordsman
Which chop off your head if you don't live accordin'
I sincerely love Allah's mathematics, camouflage fabrics
I got a revolver, fuck automatics, the black Asiatic
Lick 'em off to a shot at your motherfuckin' attic

Yo, I'm a legendary swordsman, bionic man like state forces
Seven horsemen, wu-ninjas move across coarse sands
I murder niggaz wit my bare hands
It's darkness in the wu-caves
We hang crusades, salute grenades, the sixty ways like frave
My pistol has an infer-red, as an eagle
Loitor will lag, blast the brains out of apple heads
I leave MC's and DJ's on twists at deathbeds
Underworld statis, the black knight like Latice
Destroy the midnight train, my domain is built like alactics
Beretta 9 the killin' machine
Shogun Assason is that nigga who chases you in your dreams
Killa Sin will kill again with the same knife
The thief of Bagdad could steal your life
PR Terrorist and Prince Sadaam moves the middle-east region
It's razor blade season, so all you putty-faced niggaz is badly bleedin'

Yo, I'm like a landmine, schemin' on air-time
Keepin' on the standby, flight and blow the crowd with their hands high
For now I amplify sounds of the coliseum down
First round, face down, lace clowns like a nightgown
Light brown, deck them down
Eyes wide as I recite, beamin' the mic
With satellites, tri-state cream
To travel right, fleein' the scene
Team fights with the livest MC's
So, Killarm, strike your moment of silence
Live degrees, well you're eatin' them off
That's the reason why your legion fell off
You popped corns want to be war pawns
Once, the war's on, and Al Pacino won the last of red dawn
Open mic session, bury you
Spark a party up, somethin' terrible
The pain that my niggaz bring forth is unbearable
Yo, I'm tellin' you it's da fuck

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