No Pain, No Gain lyrics

by

Spice 1


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 sh*t
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, n*gga, when I hit your block
I bring death on the suckers when my Glock is c*cked
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 sh*t like the locs that we is
Hit them n*ggas quick, f*ck the b*tches and the kids
Split wigs, watch graves get digged
Representin to the fullest, Guard Block Crib
n*ggas 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 sh*t?
It be the n*ggas 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 b*tch 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 n*gga's lip
Oh yes, my Dayna's look quite lovely
Pull up on your b*tch'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 f*ck but could do nothin but make my di*k 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
f*ck 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, f*ck it, where my payment?
I'm blazin up doja, this soldier regulate your statement
Some n*ggas is bangin, some n*ggas' 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 f*ck with
Eight off, ran from the lead, c*ck the buck sh*t
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 n*gga, 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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