Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song High Life, artist - Fredwreck. Date of issue: 05.08.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
High Life |
| I rolled you up like my Rizla |
| Cut you up, with my scissors |
| You wanna get us — yeah, the venom spitters |
| Your style’s trash: don’t litter |
| You got the jitters the hardhitters |
| No quitters your soul quivers |
| When you see the gats blazin, get out the street now |
| There ain’t no use for you beggin to turn the heat down |
| You label me coldblooded |
| You wanna warm me up with hot lead the gat thudded |
| You can’t cut it |
| You wack, but it’s — no use your mouth shut it |
| Shootin arrows diamond-studded, and still budded |
| You got to love it, you better chase the paper all day |
| So you can walk down the long platinum hallway |
| But now the fools are minutemade; |
| They get played for a minute |
| Then played out they never get back in it |
| Gun park I bring chalk for your body outlined on the floor |
| You got hit by the 4−4! |
| Chorus: B-Real |
| You’re in the game called life, son — how you’re livin it |
| Street corner kids growin up blowin up |
| You chase dreams you want the highlife, with the skylights |
| But in the end your soul’s lost, you lost the shine right |
| Never turn your back ever, on niggas true to you |
| Stand alone for the cheddar — and they’ll be through with you |
| The highlife; |
| yeah, the highlife |
| The highlife; |
| yeah, the highlife |
| You gotta hang out with B. Reezy, and take it easy |
| It’s gettin greasy, I had to learn how to beat me |
| That’s when you go for dolo, and get your meal ticket |
| And still kick it hardcore I’m runnin real with it |
| Niggas getting softcore, the people want more |
| Hardcore shit that’s why I give them an encore |
| Curtains opened, you see the people applaud feelin it |
| You can’t figure out the formula so you’re stealin it |
| Can’t stand unoriginal cats with minimal |
| Skills that’s criminal — you fake bitches! |
| You’re lookin for riches, in the wrong places |
| The faces of death look you in the eye cut off your breath |
| When you fall feel your knees shatter |
| The bones breakin with your weak blatter |
| Pissin on yourself it don’t matter |
| Dead weight, the bed waits for you on the set date |
| Dreams gone instead fate didn’t hesitate |
| To put you away, close the gates now you’re locked out |
| Your life: cable, with all the porn channels blocked out (damn!) |
| What you good for? |
| Nothin, so be gone suckers |
| Have a nice trip see you motherfuckers! |
| I live for the highlife, get my mind right |
| Fuck the fame, the game and the limelights |
| Fools that be out there tryin to duplicate |
| But they can’t match the aura, can’t impersonate |
| See the first things that comes to pass, is the blast |
| Of the Cypress Hill weed funk blazin up a path |
| You can’t help, but inhale and get strong |
| You need that good shit all up in your lungs |
| I live fast, and keep energy in motion |
| Jah bless, so I feel I been chosen |
| But I know, (?) of he who conquers |
| You gotta come strong and sound off like thunder |
| I check myself and make sure I’m comin real tight |
| Rhyme for my fam, the G’s and the highlife |
| The highlife — hah, hah |
| The highlife yeah |