Lifestyles – E-40 – letras

[Verse 1]Desperado always drinkin’ out the bottleYoung hyena with the HK hollow point staple sprayTurf tight soil block warrior from the avenueMean muggin’ like I’m mad at youBoiler make Baker’s whiskey mixed in with my brewCelebratin’ smoking Mendocino bud this is the lifestyle of a thugA hooligan a heathen wolverine everybody on my team got a triple beamTossin’ candy to the dope fiendsMillion dollar spot million dollar dreamsFour or five different colored techa-marinesYellow diamonds and stones and two-way pager phonesPlushed out SUV’s smokin LeprechaunFlowers in the back seat watchin’ Austin Powers with the windows upLost tryin’ to get where we gettin’Talking to the operator on my OnStar system[Chorus x2]This is the lifestyle that I chooseWe smoke tweed get ki’d all day and drink brewsWhich of these rap stars fart, shit, burp and get paperSpray myself with sucka repellent and shake haters[Verse 2]Every morning I got to have a nice fat joint and a hot bubble bathWrapped in a Backwood or a Zig-ZagEyes red like a broad on a ragMy pants sag down past my waistline with the viveWhen I leave the coffee table got my nine by my spineFunkin’ like its goin’ out of styleMo’ beef than a cow speakin ebonicsEvonics and broken English from VenusIntelligent hoodlums and geniusesFrom the inner city Al Capones and Frank NittysFrom the ruler to the tutor hubba heada shootaIn the back for a hubble rock or crack[Chorus x2][Verse 3]See uh I just look like this but I’m really about my scratchSee what it is I want the po-pos to think thatI’m just as square as a box of apple jacksI shoot craps drive GMC Avalanches and EXT CadillacsIf you snooze you lose I know you got a lot a trust in your dudesBut check for traps and clues nobodys playin’ by the rules anymoreNot even the people that made ’em upMy hood is corrupted and full of infidel one povertyNot too much faithfulness mostly all betrayalMostly all my folks are dead or locked away in jailSpeakin’ about some people that I missTijuana Carter, Ricardo Slay and Lisa SmithFred, Tito, Pat and Kobe and OG dead brother Fab the big homieHillside representin’ this to the fullestAnd all my homies locked down pullin’ bullets[Chorus x3]