Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song My Life, artist - J-Love. Album song Legends Vol 3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 27.04.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: J Love Enterprise, Money Maker Entertainment
Song language: English
My Life |
Godfather of gangsta, ghetto, project, complex, co-op, hip-hop |
G. Rap influenced me in, not in any way but in every way almost, |
you know the dig? |
N.O.R.E. |
— Nore, G. RAP! |
If y’all don’t know about G. Rap, y’all don’t know about rap! |
G. Rap — see you again, baby (my life nigga) |
All of my life, I live |
I’ll be thuggin with youuuuuuu |
Rock it out baby, knock it out baby |
Won’t stop 'til I die for this |
I’ll be keepin it trueeeeeee |
Yeah yeah yeah yeah |
Yo, yo It’s mafia ties, rules, let 'em fuck each other’s wives |
Niggaz is real stupid and they think like chicks |
They was dealing with ounce money 'til I bought the bricks |
I done walked through the valley of the shadow of death (yeahhhh) |
And smoked cigarettes, constant, step for step (oh yeah) |
Island-style, four-bill and mop your neck |
I got the bandana, see, it’s already a «B» |
I’m like Santana from American ME |
They call me D.A.N. |
— Dead All Nore (D.A.N. — Dead All Noreeeee) |
And I got guns, y’all ain’t got nothin for me Fuck the popo, cuz niggaz don’t leave no prints (prints) |
Niggaz gave me a brick and ain’t seen me since (yeahhhh) |
Now I’m out the game like Kane and them |
And now niggaz want me, I ain’t blamin them |
I got guns that stretch south, macs and tecs out |
I big’d up, copped the five, fuck a six, what?! |
(ohhhh oh oh) |
I speak on phones in Kohl’s, my shit stay tapped |
Like Gregory Hines, wild since seventy-nine |
I’m federal time, still an enemy of the state |
They had to beat the murder case back in eighty-eight (tell 'em bout it) |
Judge Hoffman gave fifteen to Q-God's |
Started riots in the jungle like the Rodney King charges |
In L.A., what up essa? |
(whaddup) I spray tre’pounds (yeahhhh) |
To nueva, I’m loco nigga (loco) |
I’m the one that made attempts on the popo bigger |
I put crazy work in, (that's right) fuck who criticize my verses |
I only rap, cuz the streets is sour |
The money is good and I couldn’t find sheets for powder |
I could get on some bullshit, (on some bullshit) y’all niggaz understand me? |
I keep heat like Miami, fry for family (what? fry for family) |
Rubbing tat for infanity, I curse the game |
Menace to Society like O-Dog and Kane (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) |
All of my life, uh-huh uh-huh |
Nigga into warm mansion rooms, wall to wall with handsome goons |
Half-naked bitches dancin to tunes (uh-huh) |
Marble floor to the terrace nigga, glance at the moon |
Play the jacuzzi 'til your hands get blue |
Rugs tight, bright as the white sands of Cancun (yeahhhh) |
Skylights up in the ceilings for the plants to bloom |
Nigga we crop grams in dunes, Cuban cigar brand of grandest fumes |
Prison niggaz that ran balloons |
Shut down shop from Jan. to June, and still cop land in the boons |
Fuck women in tanning rooms |
Every last fingernail on their hand groomed, self built do Down to the mink pelts, gator belts and silk suit |
If I can’t stack a nigga cap get peeled loose |
Word to them cats that died on the street, it’s spilled juice |
So where that Don be? |
In the calm breeze in the palm trees |
Bomb G under the armpiece (yeahhhh) |
Livin in harmony, coke farm pharmacy |
Bulletproof armory, school of the hard knock honory |
Washin the jackpot like laundry |
Fuckin Don of the year nominee, honestly (All of my…) |
Life, we spend, someone — know someone |
We spend, (yeah) we spend… |
And what about — where you come from (where you come from, where you) |
What about — You will get up on-on… My life, my life, my life |
What. |
uh… uh-huh |
Yeah, thug shit, Queens clicks |