Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fast Life, artist - Kool G Rap. Date of issue: 11.09.1995
Song language: English
Fast Life |
| The time has come, we gotta expand\nThe whole operation, distribution\nNew York, to Chicago, L.A.\nWe gotta set our own market and enforce it\nChampagne wishes of caviar dreams, a penis didn’t cream\nWith sales of fish scales from triple beams I gleam\nLivin' the live of rowdy packin' fifty cali’s\nRockin' lizard Bally’s while we do our drug deal in a dark alley\nUp in casinos just me and my dino primo\nPushin' beam-o's then parlay in Reno with two fly Latinos\nNas, he runs the whole staff, we count mad for seen bad\nWe’ve seen a half a milli dashin' out there on the Queens half\nThree major players gettin', papers by the layers\nAnd those that portray us on the block get rocked like Domateus\nFakers get used to shootin', targets, soon as the dark hits\nFront on the drug market, bodies get rolled up in a carpet\nThose that cheat us try to beat us, we got hookers with heaters\nThat’ll stray pop and put more shells in your top than Adidas\nDa leaders lookin' straight crimy in our Giorgio Armani’s\nYou wanna harm me and Nas, you gotta come get through a whole army\nThe celo rollers money folders sippin' bola holdin' mad payola\nSlangin' a Coke without the Cola\nMe and black don’t fake jacks but we might sling one\nIt ain’t no shame in our game we do our thing son\nLivin' the fast life, in fast cars\nEverywhere we go, people know who we are\nA team from out of Queens with the American dream\nSo we’re plottin' up a scheme to get the seven figure cream\nLivin' the fast life, in fast cars\nEverywhere we go, people know who we are\nA team from out of Queens with the American dream\nSo we’re plottin' up a scheme to get the seven figure cream\nYo I got, guns from Italy, smoke trees, considerably\nMidstate and green it seems, is where all my niggaz be\nThe ghetto misery, shootouts and liquor stores\nA perpendicular, angle of the clout war\nPolice searchin' up my Lex over who’s petrol\nMy tech blows straight off the roof and tests yo' respect though\nBut dough don’t respect me, it got me handcuffed\nThe rough life, I just be up nights, breathin' with scuffed Nike’s\nPour my beers for my peoples under the stairs\nThese years I got they names in my swears\nPoppin' Cristal like it’s my first child, lickin' shots, holiday style\nRockin' Steele sweaters, Wallaby down\nTwenty four carats, countin' cabbage, like the Arabs\nThe marriage of me and the mic is just like magic\nElegant performance, bubble Lex full insurance\nGuzzlin' Guinness shootin' catchin' cases concurrent\nIt’s Nas, seven hundred wives, King Solomon size\nWe on the rise, me and G, ghetto wise guys\nThe Luciano Frankie Aiel, Bugsy Seagal\nGreen papers with eagles from a tray that’s illegal\nBrother you’ve got to make it happen\nYeah, yeah get this money, yeah\nBrother you’ve got to make it happen\nWhen you’re livin' in the fast life, hey, yeah, yeah\nAiyyo my lifestyle’s exquisite, yayo like a blizzard\nIt’s choir attire standin' on ground with one pivot\nTwo players rockin' silk blazers and diamonds like glaciers\nLands with name brand seats reclinin' like in spaceships\nBodies on ice, livin' trife, rollin' fixed up dice\nGamblin' Grants, handlin' stamps, moves are sheist\nMy bankrolls, got the cops comin' in plain clothes\nTryin' to arraign again cause of our fame that’s how the game goes\nTrue, right out the slammer with the fame and glamour\nCookin' up grams with arm and hammer\nSupplyin' scramblers in Alabama\nRub out faces and leave no traces\nMy aces got mad body cases\nPreserve spaces at the horse races\nServin' us Dom P my cliquo\nDimes with magnifico, puttin' in cut inside, perico\nHeat for foes, shoppin' sprees with my fleet for clothes\nIn Carribean suites, deep, rippin' beats with flows\nAiyyo, we went from standin' on blocks, without some socks\nSellin' rocks, to pickin' up stock and boat docks with glocks\nAnd got poppy seed fields with million dollar bills\nPackin' all the blue steel we keeps it real inside the battlefield\nYeah so here’s a toast to the funds and things\nGun smokes in rings, graveyards is buried with kings\nLivin' the fast life, in fast cars\nEverywhere we go, people know who we are\nA team from out of Queens with the American dream\nSo we’re plottin' up a scheme to get the seven figure cream\nLivin' the fast life, in fast cars\nEverywhere we go, people know who we are\nA team from out of Queens with the American dream\nSo we’re plottin' up a scheme to get the seven figure cream\nBrother I got to make it happen\nYes, get this money, yo\nYou know I got to make it happen\nYes, get this money, yo\nLivin' in the fast life, I’m livin' in the fast life\nLivin' in the fast life, oh yeah\nLivin' in the fast life, I’m livin' in the fast life\nLivin' in the fast life, livin' in the fast life |