Lifestyles Lyrics
| Song | Lifestyles |
| Artist | E-40 |
| Album | The Ballatician - Grit & Grind |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Stevens, Vicious | |
| Desperado always drinkin' out the bottle | |
| Young hyena with the HK hollow point staple spray | |
| Turf tight soil block warrior from the avenue | |
| Mean muggin' like I'm mad at you | |
| Boiler make Baker's whiskey mixed in with my brew | |
| Celebratin' smoking Mendocino bud this is the lifestyle of a thug | |
| A hooligan a heathen wolverine everybody on my team got a triple beam | |
| Tossin' candy to the dope fiends | |
| Million dollar spot million dollar dreams | |
| Four or five different colored techa-marines | |
| Yellow diamonds and stones and two-way pager phones | |
| Plushed out SUV's smokin Leprechaun | |
| Flowers in the back seat watchin' Austin Powers with the windows up | |
| Lost tryin' to get where we gettin' | |
| Talking to the operator on my OnStar system | |
| [Chorus x2] | |
| This is the lifestyle that I choose | |
| We smoke tweed get ki'd all day and drink brews | |
| Which of these rap stars fart, shit, burp and get paper | |
| Spray myself with sucka repellent and shake haters | |
| [Verse 2] | |
| Every morning I got to have a nice fat joint and a hot bubble bath | |
| Wrapped in a Backwood or a Zig-Zag | |
| Eyes red like a broad on a rag | |
| My pants sag down past my waistline with the vive | |
| When I leave the coffee table got my nine by my spine | |
| Funkin' like its goin' out of style | |
| Mo' beef than a cow speakin ebonics | |
| Evonics and broken English from Venus | |
| Intelligent hoodlums and geniuses | |
| From the inner city Al Capones and Frank Nittys | |
| From the ruler to the tutor hubba heada shoota | |
| In 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 scratch | |
| See what it is I want the po-pos to think that | |
| I'm just as square as a box of apple jacks | |
| I shoot craps drive GMC Avalanches and EXT Cadillacs | |
| If you snooze you lose I know you got a lot a trust in your dudes | |
| But check for traps and clues nobodys playin' by the rules anymore | |
| Not even the people that made 'em up | |
| My hood is corrupted and full of infidel one poverty | |
| Not too much faithfulness mostly all betrayal | |
| Mostly all my folks are dead or locked away in jail | |
| Speakin' about some people that I miss | |
| Tijuana Carter, Ricardo Slay and Lisa Smith | |
| Fred, Tito, Pat and Kobe and OG dead brother Fab the big homie | |
| Hillside representin' this to the fullest | |
| And all my homies locked down pullin' bullets | |
| [Chorus x3] | |
| Uhhhhhhh! |
| zuo ci : Stevens, Vicious | |
| Desperado always drinkin' out the bottle | |
| Young hyena with the HK hollow point staple spray | |
| Turf tight soil block warrior from the avenue | |
| Mean muggin' like I' m mad at you | |
| Boiler make Baker' s whiskey mixed in with my brew | |
| Celebratin' smoking Mendocino bud this is the lifestyle of a thug | |
| A hooligan a heathen wolverine everybody on my team got a triple beam | |
| Tossin' candy to the dope fiends | |
| Million dollar spot million dollar dreams | |
| Four or five different colored techamarines | |
| Yellow diamonds and stones and twoway pager phones | |
| Plushed out SUV' s smokin Leprechaun | |
| Flowers in the back seat watchin' Austin Powers with the windows up | |
| Lost tryin' to get where we gettin' | |
| Talking to the operator on my OnStar system | |
| Chorus x2 | |
| This is the lifestyle that I choose | |
| We smoke tweed get ki' d all day and drink brews | |
| Which of these rap stars fart, shit, burp and get paper | |
| Spray myself with sucka repellent and shake haters | |
| Verse 2 | |
| Every morning I got to have a nice fat joint and a hot bubble bath | |
| Wrapped in a Backwood or a ZigZag | |
| Eyes red like a broad on a rag | |
| My pants sag down past my waistline with the vive | |
| When I leave the coffee table got my nine by my spine | |
| Funkin' like its goin' out of style | |
| Mo' beef than a cow speakin ebonics | |
| Evonics and broken English from Venus | |
| Intelligent hoodlums and geniuses | |
| From the inner city Al Capones and Frank Nittys | |
| From the ruler to the tutor hubba heada shoota | |
| In 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 scratch | |
| See what it is I want the popos to think that | |
| I' m just as square as a box of apple jacks | |
| I shoot craps drive GMC Avalanches and EXT Cadillacs | |
| If you snooze you lose I know you got a lot a trust in your dudes | |
| But check for traps and clues nobodys playin' by the rules anymore | |
| Not even the people that made ' em up | |
| My hood is corrupted and full of infidel one poverty | |
| Not too much faithfulness mostly all betrayal | |
| Mostly all my folks are dead or locked away in jail | |
| Speakin' about some people that I miss | |
| Tijuana Carter, Ricardo Slay and Lisa Smith | |
| Fred, Tito, Pat and Kobe and OG dead brother Fab the big homie | |
| Hillside representin' this to the fullest | |
| And all my homies locked down pullin' bullets | |
| Chorus x3 | |
| Uhhhhhhh! |
| zuò cí : Stevens, Vicious | |
| Desperado always drinkin' out the bottle | |
| Young hyena with the HK hollow point staple spray | |
| Turf tight soil block warrior from the avenue | |
| Mean muggin' like I' m mad at you | |
| Boiler make Baker' s whiskey mixed in with my brew | |
| Celebratin' smoking Mendocino bud this is the lifestyle of a thug | |
| A hooligan a heathen wolverine everybody on my team got a triple beam | |
| Tossin' candy to the dope fiends | |
| Million dollar spot million dollar dreams | |
| Four or five different colored techamarines | |
| Yellow diamonds and stones and twoway pager phones | |
| Plushed out SUV' s smokin Leprechaun | |
| Flowers in the back seat watchin' Austin Powers with the windows up | |
| Lost tryin' to get where we gettin' | |
| Talking to the operator on my OnStar system | |
| Chorus x2 | |
| This is the lifestyle that I choose | |
| We smoke tweed get ki' d all day and drink brews | |
| Which of these rap stars fart, shit, burp and get paper | |
| Spray myself with sucka repellent and shake haters | |
| Verse 2 | |
| Every morning I got to have a nice fat joint and a hot bubble bath | |
| Wrapped in a Backwood or a ZigZag | |
| Eyes red like a broad on a rag | |
| My pants sag down past my waistline with the vive | |
| When I leave the coffee table got my nine by my spine | |
| Funkin' like its goin' out of style | |
| Mo' beef than a cow speakin ebonics | |
| Evonics and broken English from Venus | |
| Intelligent hoodlums and geniuses | |
| From the inner city Al Capones and Frank Nittys | |
| From the ruler to the tutor hubba heada shoota | |
| In 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 scratch | |
| See what it is I want the popos to think that | |
| I' m just as square as a box of apple jacks | |
| I shoot craps drive GMC Avalanches and EXT Cadillacs | |
| If you snooze you lose I know you got a lot a trust in your dudes | |
| But check for traps and clues nobodys playin' by the rules anymore | |
| Not even the people that made ' em up | |
| My hood is corrupted and full of infidel one poverty | |
| Not too much faithfulness mostly all betrayal | |
| Mostly all my folks are dead or locked away in jail | |
| Speakin' about some people that I miss | |
| Tijuana Carter, Ricardo Slay and Lisa Smith | |
| Fred, Tito, Pat and Kobe and OG dead brother Fab the big homie | |
| Hillside representin' this to the fullest | |
| And all my homies locked down pullin' bullets | |
| Chorus x3 | |
| Uhhhhhhh! |
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