AttHat - Pay for Pain lyrics

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AttHat - Pay for Pain lyrics

[Verse 1: AttHat] Pulling up to your block in the minivan Pulling out my Glock, like a risky man Weapon in one hand, whisky in the other We got this sh** planned, nothing to discover Activity is contraband, warned by my mother This ain't no promised land, so why even bother k**ing n***as is my job, don't make it personal Do this sh** without a mob, sh**'s still terminal [Chorus: AttHat] Can't hop in my lane. Busy moving c**aine n***a going too fast. Leaving you in the dust Gotta pay for pain. Gotta make it rain You're gonna come last. Better gain my trust Gotta pay for pain. Getting paid for pain Gotta pay for pain. Getting paid for pain Gotta pay for pain. Getting paid for pain Gotta pay for pain. Getting paid for pain [Verse 2: AttHat] Walking down the street, trynna be discrete Jobs almost complete, concrete creating a beat Turn the corner, look, there's a f**ing fleet. I can take em on' with my heat Hol' up. b**h, take a f**ing seat One's coming at me, I can feel the tension Might wanna start running, avoid attention I'm a bystander, pretty big pretension *Gun co*k sound* Walk past freely, released suspension Guess it was wrong, my feeling of apprehension Meet up with the boys, another day, another pay Riding in the backseat, ready for a buffet Better pray you don't become prey, while we're on our way Wait, who's that, light em up like an ashtray You can't touch me, I'm surrounded by adders Money stacks so tall you n***as need ladders They told me this record was only for pros So AttHat gon get VIP I suppose [Chorus: AttHat] Can't hop in my lane. Busy moving c**aine n***a going too fast. Leaving you in the dust Gotta pay for pain. Gotta make it rain You're gonna come last. Better gain my trust Gotta pay for pain. Getting paid for pain Gotta pay for pain. Getting paid for pain Stepping up to the game like I already own it Take a look at my fame, won't f**ing loan it My style so sick you wish you could clone it This beat like my dick, you better ringtone it The door to my silver Chevrolet I slam My presence makes this sh** Buckingham I'm trafficking, but no traffic jam Money pouring out, I'm like "Hoover Damn!" f** a Grammy, we want that golden gram We don't beef n***a, eating rack of lamb Lamb then blam! Knocked out, anagram AttHat on the bars and the beat, god damn