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(I play the street life |
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Because theres no place I can go |
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Street life |
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Its the only life I know) |
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Come home and your daddy go to work(go to work) |
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Three phones |
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And my pagers go beserk (go beserk) |
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I'm talkin birds |
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Like dooney and bourke |
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I'm talkin work |
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Enough to make you a clerk |
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Rebel Bass,hard plate,big spoons |
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That wiff like the block hotter than mid june |
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Early july,I'm early like the bird that fly |
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Even Martin got a piece of that pie |
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I'm Eddie Murphy, laugh at ******, throw the piece in the sky |
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Drop the top on the merchy and make streets with my top |
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Make it dance like Percy, |
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Kids stay on the sidewalk, |
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Used to stash weed in my momma's Buic Skylark, |
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I talk only 'bout prices, |
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Negotiation rule the nation , |
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**** the police station, |
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And if you got any association, |
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Then,murder all close relations |
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Street Life uh uh |
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Grocery bags on the counter |
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No grocery store |
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Couldn't fit a half a meal in the Gucci tote |
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Hit the lights |
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Watch the roaches say "Good Night" |
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Spark twice, say "Good Bye" to the Mice |
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Cook nice for the little bit of slice |
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And watch them jokers put that fire to that ice |
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Sure as that dog's tail wag, it will bite |
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Man,I'm just tryna get my scratch on these lice |
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When I was younger,I had a flag on my bike |
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And then I went and got them mags on my bike |
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Momma,don't wait up for me, |
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I lost a bundle a money from the cops |
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Gotta get that make-up money (Hey!) |
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I say I gotta get into they lunch money |
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I say I gotta get into they lunch money |
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Its Hollygrove,till the bury me cold |
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Whos to say if they gon' bury me old? |
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I live that street life. |
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Uh uh |
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Back to the struggle, |
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Born trouble, |
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Like tryin to find strength in a torn muscle |
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Young as scum, |
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Daddy gone, |
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Boy young and running streets 'till he pull a gun |
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Hoodilum of all black hoody on |
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Talibon strap with a gat like a bomb |
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Red storm,hankercheif hat on |
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**** around and them bees swarm |
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Bee Gone |
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Better know which street you on |
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Won't you come on Eagle, |
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Are you Evil Kineval? (Ha Ha) |
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Crackheads got bikes and pistols |
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Now run up on that crackhead and fight the pistol |
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This is the street |
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Nigguh eat |
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Where the bird don't tweet |
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The birds grow cheap |
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And nigguhs dont sleep |
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You may have heard of MLK |
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But I know a gang of ****** with they own street |
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The street life |
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Uh uh |
