| Song | Look Of Pain |
| Artist | Soul Position |
| Album | 8,000,000 Stories |
| 作曲 : Blueprint, RJD Two | |
| Chorus: [x4] | |
| That's the look of pain | |
| You never want to see | |
| When a ghetto youth finds out | |
| His dreams my never be | |
| Verse One: | |
| I've seen crack sales in broad daylight on park benches | |
| Old folks watch it from the windows in they kitchens | |
| Convinced the police don't care and won't listen | |
| Hopin' that they got some under covers takin' pictures | |
| They ain't tryin' to be the ones that gotta save the system | |
| For every five thugs, maybe one will go to prison | |
| The other four are left to intimidate the witness | |
| Go to trail against them and you might come up missin' | |
| Lookin' at the odds it's a no brain decision | |
| Unless you wanna jeopardize your family and children | |
| And so they keep their eyes closed, continue feedin' kittens | |
| And open up their blinds again, when the sale is finished | |
| They hope that dope don't invade their fam | |
| But how would you cope if your moms was smokin' grams? | |
| See that's what I be thinkin' when I bump into my man | |
| Gave him a bear hug and shook his cold hand | |
| Asked about the future, if he had a plan | |
| Aside from the hustlin' and corner store scams | |
| He said, "Life is hard", I said, "I understand" | |
| The weight of his home life was more than he could stand | |
| The oldest of four seeds, he's only fifteen | |
| But everybody lookin' towards him to make the cream | |
| He said, enroll in college might help him to change things | |
| Managin' a smile while he spoke so painfully | |
| Then he started to choke up | |
| As if he woke up | |
| And realized that whatever he made his mom would smoke up | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse Two: | |
| It's hard to stay optimistic as a ghetto youth | |
| When you can't anticipate the days ahead of you | |
| It's like, dope fiend next to you | |
| Gangs keep stressin' you | |
| Pharmacists operate the block makin' revenue | |
| They never get caught cause they know the cops schedules | |
| And every time you come home it's like your mom questions you | |
| She don't wanna see you on the street corner gettin' loot | |
| You told her that was something you would never do | |
| You concentrate on school | |
| Your grades exceptional | |
| You visualize yourself as a black professional | |
| Plus your girlfriend is in the same class as you | |
| But it's drama when you walk her home after school | |
| These knuckleheads on the block they be harassin' you | |
| You say, "Chill" | |
| That you just passin' through | |
| You used to be cool with 'em but now they actin' new | |
| You crack jokes but they gettin' more mad at you | |
| Now they puttin' up their dukes so they can scrap with you | |
| And when it's over | |
| You leave 'em ALL black and blue | |
| Now they talkin' about blastin' you | |
| Now they got guns chasin' after you | |
| You didn't think that they would pull it | |
| But now you find yourself runnin' from the sound of stray bullets | |
| You get closer to the crib and start smilin' | |
| Felt somethin' in your back it was a bullet in a spinal column | |
| Now you startin' to bleed | |
| You blackin' out, it's gettin' harder to see | |
| Chorus |
| zuò qǔ : Blueprint, RJD Two | |
| Chorus: x4 | |
| That' s the look of pain | |
| You never want to see | |
| When a ghetto youth finds out | |
| His dreams my never be | |
| Verse One: | |
| I' ve seen crack sales in broad daylight on park benches | |
| Old folks watch it from the windows in they kitchens | |
| Convinced the police don' t care and won' t listen | |
| Hopin' that they got some under covers takin' pictures | |
| They ain' t tryin' to be the ones that gotta save the system | |
| For every five thugs, maybe one will go to prison | |
| The other four are left to intimidate the witness | |
| Go to trail against them and you might come up missin' | |
| Lookin' at the odds it' s a no brain decision | |
| Unless you wanna jeopardize your family and children | |
| And so they keep their eyes closed, continue feedin' kittens | |
| And open up their blinds again, when the sale is finished | |
| They hope that dope don' t invade their fam | |
| But how would you cope if your moms was smokin' grams? | |
| See that' s what I be thinkin' when I bump into my man | |
| Gave him a bear hug and shook his cold hand | |
| Asked about the future, if he had a plan | |
| Aside from the hustlin' and corner store scams | |
| He said, " Life is hard", I said, " I understand" | |
| The weight of his home life was more than he could stand | |
| The oldest of four seeds, he' s only fifteen | |
| But everybody lookin' towards him to make the cream | |
| He said, enroll in college might help him to change things | |
| Managin' a smile while he spoke so painfully | |
| Then he started to choke up | |
| As if he woke up | |
| And realized that whatever he made his mom would smoke up | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse Two: | |
| It' s hard to stay optimistic as a ghetto youth | |
| When you can' t anticipate the days ahead of you | |
| It' s like, dope fiend next to you | |
| Gangs keep stressin' you | |
| Pharmacists operate the block makin' revenue | |
| They never get caught cause they know the cops schedules | |
| And every time you come home it' s like your mom questions you | |
| She don' t wanna see you on the street corner gettin' loot | |
| You told her that was something you would never do | |
| You concentrate on school | |
| Your grades exceptional | |
| You visualize yourself as a black professional | |
| Plus your girlfriend is in the same class as you | |
| But it' s drama when you walk her home after school | |
| These knuckleheads on the block they be harassin' you | |
| You say, " Chill" | |
| That you just passin' through | |
| You used to be cool with ' em but now they actin' new | |
| You crack jokes but they gettin' more mad at you | |
| Now they puttin' up their dukes so they can scrap with you | |
| And when it' s over | |
| You leave ' em ALL black and blue | |
| Now they talkin' about blastin' you | |
| Now they got guns chasin' after you | |
| You didn' t think that they would pull it | |
| But now you find yourself runnin' from the sound of stray bullets | |
| You get closer to the crib and start smilin' | |
| Felt somethin' in your back it was a bullet in a spinal column | |
| Now you startin' to bleed | |
| You blackin' out, it' s gettin' harder to see | |
| Chorus |