Life We Chose (Album Version) 歌词
| 歌曲 | Life We Chose (Album Version) |
| 歌手 | Nas |
| 专辑 | Nastradamus |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Jones, Lewis, Wesley | |
| "Life We Chose" | |
| [Nas] | |
| To my niggaz.. huh.. | |
| We all we got.. | |
| Let's hold it down though, y'know? | |
| However it's gon' go down | |
| This what we gotta deal with, y'know? | |
| Yo.. | |
| [Chorus: Nas] | |
| It's the life we chose, where friends become foes | |
| and the dough'll get you killed quicker than you know | |
| This is the life we chose, bring fake snakes and hoes | |
| and the only way out, is death or goin broke | |
| This the life we chose, ain't too many happy endings | |
| That's why there ain't too many happy niggaz in it | |
| And I'll admit it, this life is fucked up but yo.. | |
| (but yo..) this life is the only life I know [echoes] | |
| [Nas] | |
| Uhh, uhh, uhh | |
| Gold bathtubs, makin love to my Queen | |
| Get my back rubbed, Chardonnay, rollin up green | |
| Statues, marble floors, rare paintings on my wall | |
| My lifestyle's like the Forbes Magazine | |
| Closets, full of rockets and submachines | |
| Take this nigga out the projects, and his thug team | |
| Yo we cruise past street lights, ill rides | |
| Mr. Child both coasts with the most loud toast | |
| Calicos roast y'all folks, keep y'all dyin | |
| Cause it's hard to fuck around when we dealin with science | |
| My enemies got money, so y'all should watch how I play it | |
| They never know we enemies until they hear me say it | |
| Til they kid's on the phone sayin, "Please daddy pay it" | |
| Til they brain's on the floor, mixed on the pavement | |
| High-class elegance, you respect or you hiss | |
| You go against you'd rather piss on an electrical fence | |
| It's strategic, how these niggaz want you to think | |
| You'd be surprised, who'd be the one to put you to sleep | |
| Why you stink? Yo these streets don't allow you to blink | |
| You get showered by lead, comin out with your mink | |
| Bow ties and tuxedos, bust Eagles | |
| Dump drugs and acid, then they rush with the Rico | |
| It's hard fuckin with niggaz you hope you can trust | |
| You a fool if your main bitch is easy to fuck | |
| And you've got money - is these hoes greedy or what? | |
| Shit is devious, ex-friends wantin you stuck | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Nas] | |
| Uhh, what's love when you don't give your man enough dough? | |
| He wanna stick you | |
| What's love, you got beef? | |
| Nobody rollin wit you | |
| What's love, you locked up, and your family don't care | |
| Is love a four-letter word, that deceives the air? | |
| What's real, when you know your man's girl is a hoe | |
| And you don't even let him know, cause you fucked her befo' | |
| What's real, when you talk behind a man's back | |
| then you see him and give him dap, now explain that? | |
| What's trust, when they seperate your case | |
| When you at your court date, your co-de', can't look in your face | |
| What's trust, when you keep your wife away from your man? | |
| And he never crossed you, but you claimin he's fam'? | |
| What's trust, when you get bust, your niggaz don't retaliate? | |
| They blaze purple haze with em the next day? | |
| God forbid one of my niggaz get hit, I'ma go haywire | |
| Won't hesitate, I'ma spray fire | |
| But everybody's different, you won't know how you react | |
| til you in that position, and that's an actual fact | |
| The hearts of men change as time goes on, who's wrong? | |
| You was hungry when you stuck Duke, he came back to buck you | |
| Who's wrong? Foul all your life, now you 90 | |
| On your deathbed you regret bein grimy | |
| What's lust, a bust nut? What's a thug? | |
| A ghetto child raised around drugs, til he's old enough to bust slugs? | |
| Then what's jail, to rehabilitate, or to make a nigga worse | |
| when he come home to catch another case? | |
| Life's about decisions, you choose it, you gotta live it | |
| You did it, heaven or hell or prison | |
| Who knows when your clock'll stop tickin, get your weight up | |
| Save up before it's over neighbor, I told ya | |
| You gettin older player, look at those who gave up | |
| [Chorus] |
| zuo ci : Jones, Lewis, Wesley | |
| " Life We Chose" | |
| Nas | |
| To my niggaz.. huh.. | |
| We all we got.. | |
| Let' s hold it down though, y' know? | |
| However it' s gon' go down | |
| This what we gotta deal with, y' know? | |
| Yo.. | |
| Chorus: Nas | |
| It' s the life we chose, where friends become foes | |
| and the dough' ll get you killed quicker than you know | |
| This is the life we chose, bring fake snakes and hoes | |
| and the only way out, is death or goin broke | |
| This the life we chose, ain' t too many happy endings | |
| That' s why there ain' t too many happy niggaz in it | |
| And I' ll admit it, this life is fucked up but yo.. | |
| but yo.. this life is the only life I know echoes | |
| Nas | |
| Uhh, uhh, uhh | |
| Gold bathtubs, makin love to my Queen | |
| Get my back rubbed, Chardonnay, rollin up green | |
| Statues, marble floors, rare paintings on my wall | |
| My lifestyle' s like the Forbes Magazine | |
| Closets, full of rockets and submachines | |
| Take this nigga out the projects, and his thug team | |
| Yo we cruise past street lights, ill rides | |
| Mr. Child both coasts with the most loud toast | |
| Calicos roast y' all folks, keep y' all dyin | |
| Cause it' s hard to fuck around when we dealin with science | |
| My enemies got money, so y' all should watch how I play it | |
| They never know we enemies until they hear me say it | |
| Til they kid' s on the phone sayin, " Please daddy pay it" | |
| Til they brain' s on the floor, mixed on the pavement | |
| Highclass elegance, you respect or you hiss | |
| You go against you' d rather piss on an electrical fence | |
| It' s strategic, how these niggaz want you to think | |
| You' d be surprised, who' d be the one to put you to sleep | |
| Why you stink? Yo these streets don' t allow you to blink | |
| You get showered by lead, comin out with your mink | |
| Bow ties and tuxedos, bust Eagles | |
| Dump drugs and acid, then they rush with the Rico | |
| It' s hard fuckin with niggaz you hope you can trust | |
| You a fool if your main bitch is easy to fuck | |
| And you' ve got money is these hoes greedy or what? | |
| Shit is devious, exfriends wantin you stuck | |
| Chorus | |
| Nas | |
| Uhh, what' s love when you don' t give your man enough dough? | |
| He wanna stick you | |
| What' s love, you got beef? | |
| Nobody rollin wit you | |
| What' s love, you locked up, and your family don' t care | |
| Is love a fourletter word, that deceives the air? | |
| What' s real, when you know your man' s girl is a hoe | |
| And you don' t even let him know, cause you fucked her befo' | |
| What' s real, when you talk behind a man' s back | |
| then you see him and give him dap, now explain that? | |
| What' s trust, when they seperate your case | |
| When you at your court date, your code', can' t look in your face | |
| What' s trust, when you keep your wife away from your man? | |
| And he never crossed you, but you claimin he' s fam'? | |
| What' s trust, when you get bust, your niggaz don' t retaliate? | |
| They blaze purple haze with em the next day? | |
| God forbid one of my niggaz get hit, I' ma go haywire | |
| Won' t hesitate, I' ma spray fire | |
| But everybody' s different, you won' t know how you react | |
| til you in that position, and that' s an actual fact | |
| The hearts of men change as time goes on, who' s wrong? | |
| You was hungry when you stuck Duke, he came back to buck you | |
| Who' s wrong? Foul all your life, now you 90 | |
| On your deathbed you regret bein grimy | |
| What' s lust, a bust nut? What' s a thug? | |
| A ghetto child raised around drugs, til he' s old enough to bust slugs? | |
| Then what' s jail, to rehabilitate, or to make a nigga worse | |
| when he come home to catch another case? | |
| Life' s about decisions, you choose it, you gotta live it | |
| You did it, heaven or hell or prison | |
| Who knows when your clock' ll stop tickin, get your weight up | |
| Save up before it' s over neighbor, I told ya | |
| You gettin older player, look at those who gave up | |
| Chorus |
| zuò cí : Jones, Lewis, Wesley | |
| " Life We Chose" | |
| Nas | |
| To my niggaz.. huh.. | |
| We all we got.. | |
| Let' s hold it down though, y' know? | |
| However it' s gon' go down | |
| This what we gotta deal with, y' know? | |
| Yo.. | |
| Chorus: Nas | |
| It' s the life we chose, where friends become foes | |
| and the dough' ll get you killed quicker than you know | |
| This is the life we chose, bring fake snakes and hoes | |
| and the only way out, is death or goin broke | |
| This the life we chose, ain' t too many happy endings | |
| That' s why there ain' t too many happy niggaz in it | |
| And I' ll admit it, this life is fucked up but yo.. | |
| but yo.. this life is the only life I know echoes | |
| Nas | |
| Uhh, uhh, uhh | |
| Gold bathtubs, makin love to my Queen | |
| Get my back rubbed, Chardonnay, rollin up green | |
| Statues, marble floors, rare paintings on my wall | |
| My lifestyle' s like the Forbes Magazine | |
| Closets, full of rockets and submachines | |
| Take this nigga out the projects, and his thug team | |
| Yo we cruise past street lights, ill rides | |
| Mr. Child both coasts with the most loud toast | |
| Calicos roast y' all folks, keep y' all dyin | |
| Cause it' s hard to fuck around when we dealin with science | |
| My enemies got money, so y' all should watch how I play it | |
| They never know we enemies until they hear me say it | |
| Til they kid' s on the phone sayin, " Please daddy pay it" | |
| Til they brain' s on the floor, mixed on the pavement | |
| Highclass elegance, you respect or you hiss | |
| You go against you' d rather piss on an electrical fence | |
| It' s strategic, how these niggaz want you to think | |
| You' d be surprised, who' d be the one to put you to sleep | |
| Why you stink? Yo these streets don' t allow you to blink | |
| You get showered by lead, comin out with your mink | |
| Bow ties and tuxedos, bust Eagles | |
| Dump drugs and acid, then they rush with the Rico | |
| It' s hard fuckin with niggaz you hope you can trust | |
| You a fool if your main bitch is easy to fuck | |
| And you' ve got money is these hoes greedy or what? | |
| Shit is devious, exfriends wantin you stuck | |
| Chorus | |
| Nas | |
| Uhh, what' s love when you don' t give your man enough dough? | |
| He wanna stick you | |
| What' s love, you got beef? | |
| Nobody rollin wit you | |
| What' s love, you locked up, and your family don' t care | |
| Is love a fourletter word, that deceives the air? | |
| What' s real, when you know your man' s girl is a hoe | |
| And you don' t even let him know, cause you fucked her befo' | |
| What' s real, when you talk behind a man' s back | |
| then you see him and give him dap, now explain that? | |
| What' s trust, when they seperate your case | |
| When you at your court date, your code', can' t look in your face | |
| What' s trust, when you keep your wife away from your man? | |
| And he never crossed you, but you claimin he' s fam'? | |
| What' s trust, when you get bust, your niggaz don' t retaliate? | |
| They blaze purple haze with em the next day? | |
| God forbid one of my niggaz get hit, I' ma go haywire | |
| Won' t hesitate, I' ma spray fire | |
| But everybody' s different, you won' t know how you react | |
| til you in that position, and that' s an actual fact | |
| The hearts of men change as time goes on, who' s wrong? | |
| You was hungry when you stuck Duke, he came back to buck you | |
| Who' s wrong? Foul all your life, now you 90 | |
| On your deathbed you regret bein grimy | |
| What' s lust, a bust nut? What' s a thug? | |
| A ghetto child raised around drugs, til he' s old enough to bust slugs? | |
| Then what' s jail, to rehabilitate, or to make a nigga worse | |
| when he come home to catch another case? | |
| Life' s about decisions, you choose it, you gotta live it | |
| You did it, heaven or hell or prison | |
| Who knows when your clock' ll stop tickin, get your weight up | |
| Save up before it' s over neighbor, I told ya | |
| You gettin older player, look at those who gave up | |
| Chorus |
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