| Yo… straight thugs on this side — it’s do or die to the death
|
| Like the terminal ill takin' they last breath
|
| Read your last rites — God, forgive me
|
| For the sin I’m about to commit — takin' a life
|
| Kill or be killed, rather that than somebody else
|
| Readin' my will — you feel what I feel, you know the deal
|
| Keep the infrared next to my bed, one in the head
|
| Hearin' noises, dead tired, eyes bloodshot red
|
| Sleep with half closed eyelids
|
| Some say it’s strange, sometimes that’s how strange life get
|
| Go easy on the bottle, niggas love to see when
|
| Niggas slippin' off point, on the strength they bet
|
| Scopin' your ice, appraisin' it like the Diamond District Jeweler
|
| With they hand on the biscuit
|
| Do ya, wanna get caught lifted; |
| or sober, so you can react quick?
|
| Blow you off the atlas as if I caught you fuckin my wife
|
| On my thousand dollar mattress
|
| It’s the world that I live in, Q.B. |
| made me
|
| A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me
|
| Y’all need to give it up. |
| we don’t give a fuck.
|
| What y’all niggas want. |
| thug, life, is, mine
|
| Y’all need to give it up. |
| cause we don’t give a fuck.
|
| What y’all niggas want. |
| thug, life, is, mine
|
| I got the style of a stillborn child, I’m ill
|
| If it’s beef, poke him with the fork, make sure he’s done well
|
| (Very very) The streets raised me crazy, now I’m immune to it
|
| So when they start shootin', we don’t stop the music
|
| Keep it movin' that’s how we do it (c'mon, c’mon Dunn)
|
| Been through more drama than the Baldwins, you still crawlin (still crawlin')
|
| Apply street rules to the office, high performance
|
| Rap author, made millions off of — melodic, hypnotic productions
|
| That’ll fuck with your conscience and touch your emotions
|
| (You feel me? You feel me?)
|
| You feel me? |
| I’ll write a graphic page
|
| Escort niggas to they grave, relate to the projects
|
| We the black Mobb, it gets deeper than rap music
|
| (Don't get no realer than this!)
|
| It’s more real than any words I can muster
|
| Pull the black Cadillac trucks up (what?)
|
| Hop out them shits like what? |
| Y’all niggas can’t touch us
|
| Y’all need to give it up. |
| we don’t give a fuck.
|
| What y’all niggas want. |
| thug, life, is, mine
|
| Y’all need to give it up. |
| cause we don’t give a fuck.
|
| What y’all niggas want. |
| thug, life, is, mine
|
| Silk shirts on my chest show what a flirt
|
| Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Barbara Streisand concert
|
| Silk pants colored pink, gators match gangster musical thing
|
| And I’ll front like my doo doo don’t stink
|
| Instinct like Cuba Gooding steppin' out the latest toy
|
| Hazard lights blinkin', gators hit the floor
|
| Everybody watch the red carpet entrance, cameras flashin'
|
| Just to think, that was yesterday’s action
|
| 'Cause today goes either way — we came a long way
|
| From hallway steps and hand-me-down shit
|
| Fuck my foes, I seen the other side, NexTel cell roam
|
| Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home
|
| Quincy Jones posters
|
| Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can’t talk around chauffeurs
|
| Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic
|
| Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic
|
| Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I’m God son
|
| NAStradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC’s come
|
| Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds
|
| When you feel the heat, comin' and flee with the murder weapon
|
| I’ll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson
|
| Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it
|
| Cremate your flesh to ashes
|
| You don’t need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket
|
| Y’all need to give it up. |
| we don’t give a fuck.
|
| What y’all niggas want. |
| thug, life, is, mine
|
| Y’all need to give it up. |
| cause we don’t give a fuck.
|
| What y’all niggas want. |
| thug, life, is, mine
|
| Thug, life, is, mine
|
| Thug, life, is, mine
|
| Thug, life, is, mine
|
| Uhh, thug, life, is, mine
|
| Ill Will.
|
| You need to give it up. |
| we don’t give a fuck
|
| What y’all niggas want. |
| we don’t give a fuck
|
| Thug, life, is, mine
|
| Y’all need to give it up. |
| we don’t give a fuck.
|
| What y’all niggas want. |
| thug, life, is, mine |