Live Enough (Remix) Lyrics
| Song | Live Enough (Remix) |
| Artist | Styles of Beyond |
| Album | Megadef |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Bashir, Maginn, Rabinowitz | |
| Verse 1 (Ryu) | |
| Yeah | |
| Styles | |
| Come on | |
| Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around | |
| Uh | |
| Knock ‘em out | |
| Uh uh | |
| Line ‘em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain't live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won't have no more | |
| Come on | |
| Click Click Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around uh | |
| Knock ‘em out | |
| Line ‘em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain't live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won't have no more | |
| When I was a youngin' | |
| Who would ever thought that | |
| I'd be number one | |
| Banging in your trunk fat | |
| Beats for the grungie | |
| Heat for the outsie | |
| People in the back | |
| Keeping it bouncing | |
| R to the Y to the U | |
| Get up Get up | |
| Suckers ain't live yet | |
| Enoughs enough | |
| You damn right | |
| We changed for the better | |
| And got back together | |
| And locked rap | |
| Surrender and drop that | |
| Duck like you back in your bush | |
| You wanna learn to battle | |
| Start cracking them books | |
| I've been sick from the jump | |
| Dirty from the get go | |
| Six in the pump | |
| Thirty in the clip load | |
| Rip through a beat | |
| Like butter in kill | |
| Peep the last man shook | |
| Yo | |
| We stutter and still | |
| R-R-Ryu is too ill | |
| Stop and think | |
| You want some girl scout beats | |
| Or some knocks and pins | |
| Have it your way | |
| I'ma stay dropping a flame | |
| Blaze and pop insane shit | |
| I never change | |
| Chorus | |
| Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around | |
| Uh | |
| Knock ‘em out | |
| Uh uh | |
| Line ‘em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain't live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won't have no more | |
| Come on | |
| Click Click Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around uh | |
| Knock ‘em out | |
| Line ‘em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain't live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won't have no more | |
| Verse 2 (Tak) | |
| So here we go again | |
| The dopest if you noticed him | |
| Hopefully I'm rolling with | |
| The golden ounce I'm supposed to get | |
| For flowin it | |
| Knowing when suckers ain't live enough | |
| Yet | |
| Time's up | |
| Line ‘em up | |
| Till they buy enough crack | |
| With your gold card razor | |
| Shot the whole place up | |
| Snatch the face | |
| Playing and remove the fake make up | |
| Stand on the edge with a mannequin head | |
| Cram it with lead | |
| And battle till you hand him his legs | |
| I got a plan to get fed | |
| Till my stamina ends | |
| Crap in your Benz | |
| Stomp with my lavender Timbs | |
| Say you don't even know | |
| When the show is over | |
| A lonely soldier | |
| Grown for closure | |
| A small time crook | |
| On a stolen poster | |
| That's why I wrote a book on this rollercoaster | |
| Now everybody move but they can't even speak | |
| The party rules of an outlaw that'll handle your teeth | |
| No tools can't write | |
| Can't rap to a beat | |
| Your O'douls getting sappy | |
| You're wacker then me | |
| How you gonna claim something that you never believe | |
| The regular breed that tipsscales | |
| Sell us some key | |
| But under your sleeves | |
| You fronting to whatever degree | |
| The second you breathe | |
| The element of the weapon you squeeze | |
| Like click click click click | |
| Tell you please | |
| There ain't nothing better then these raw delicacies | |
| Come on | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3 (Tak) | |
| Yeah | |
| Instead of running | |
| I'll walk instead | |
| I remember growing up rocking Talking Heads | |
| You may ask yourelf | |
| How cool he is | |
| It's just me fascination with the Human League | |
| Verse 4 (Ryu) | |
| Now I don't know who said it and when | |
| I'm not nice | |
| Yeah right | |
| That bitch never said it again | |
| I play rough to the death | |
| Enough respect | |
| Let the slugs eject then | |
| Come correct | |
| My man Mic's my best friend | |
| Arm to the teeth | |
| We settle beef together | |
| Like identical twins | |
| Oooh shit catch a bad one | |
| Oh | |
| Can you imagine the pain of a .45 magnum | |
| Bang. |
| zuo ci : Bashir, Maginn, Rabinowitz | |
| Verse 1 Ryu | |
| Yeah | |
| Styles | |
| Come on | |
| Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around | |
| Uh | |
| Knock ' em out | |
| Uh uh | |
| Line ' em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain' t live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won' t have no more | |
| Come on | |
| Click Click Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around uh | |
| Knock ' em out | |
| Line ' em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain' t live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won' t have no more | |
| When I was a youngin' | |
| Who would ever thought that | |
| I' d be number one | |
| Banging in your trunk fat | |
| Beats for the grungie | |
| Heat for the outsie | |
| People in the back | |
| Keeping it bouncing | |
| R to the Y to the U | |
| Get up Get up | |
| Suckers ain' t live yet | |
| Enoughs enough | |
| You damn right | |
| We changed for the better | |
| And got back together | |
| And locked rap | |
| Surrender and drop that | |
| Duck like you back in your bush | |
| You wanna learn to battle | |
| Start cracking them books | |
| I' ve been sick from the jump | |
| Dirty from the get go | |
| Six in the pump | |
| Thirty in the clip load | |
| Rip through a beat | |
| Like butter in kill | |
| Peep the last man shook | |
| Yo | |
| We stutter and still | |
| RRRyu is too ill | |
| Stop and think | |
| You want some girl scout beats | |
| Or some knocks and pins | |
| Have it your way | |
| I' ma stay dropping a flame | |
| Blaze and pop insane shit | |
| I never change | |
| Chorus | |
| Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around | |
| Uh | |
| Knock ' em out | |
| Uh uh | |
| Line ' em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain' t live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won' t have no more | |
| Come on | |
| Click Click Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around uh | |
| Knock ' em out | |
| Line ' em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain' t live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won' t have no more | |
| Verse 2 Tak | |
| So here we go again | |
| The dopest if you noticed him | |
| Hopefully I' m rolling with | |
| The golden ounce I' m supposed to get | |
| For flowin it | |
| Knowing when suckers ain' t live enough | |
| Yet | |
| Time' s up | |
| Line ' em up | |
| Till they buy enough crack | |
| With your gold card razor | |
| Shot the whole place up | |
| Snatch the face | |
| Playing and remove the fake make up | |
| Stand on the edge with a mannequin head | |
| Cram it with lead | |
| And battle till you hand him his legs | |
| I got a plan to get fed | |
| Till my stamina ends | |
| Crap in your Benz | |
| Stomp with my lavender Timbs | |
| Say you don' t even know | |
| When the show is over | |
| A lonely soldier | |
| Grown for closure | |
| A small time crook | |
| On a stolen poster | |
| That' s why I wrote a book on this rollercoaster | |
| Now everybody move but they can' t even speak | |
| The party rules of an outlaw that' ll handle your teeth | |
| No tools can' t write | |
| Can' t rap to a beat | |
| Your O' douls getting sappy | |
| You' re wacker then me | |
| How you gonna claim something that you never believe | |
| The regular breed that tipsscales | |
| Sell us some key | |
| But under your sleeves | |
| You fronting to whatever degree | |
| The second you breathe | |
| The element of the weapon you squeeze | |
| Like click click click click | |
| Tell you please | |
| There ain' t nothing better then these raw delicacies | |
| Come on | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3 Tak | |
| Yeah | |
| Instead of running | |
| I' ll walk instead | |
| I remember growing up rocking Talking Heads | |
| You may ask yourelf | |
| How cool he is | |
| It' s just me fascination with the Human League | |
| Verse 4 Ryu | |
| Now I don' t know who said it and when | |
| I' m not nice | |
| Yeah right | |
| That bitch never said it again | |
| I play rough to the death | |
| Enough respect | |
| Let the slugs eject then | |
| Come correct | |
| My man Mic' s my best friend | |
| Arm to the teeth | |
| We settle beef together | |
| Like identical twins | |
| Oooh shit catch a bad one | |
| Oh | |
| Can you imagine the pain of a . 45 magnum | |
| Bang. |
| zuò cí : Bashir, Maginn, Rabinowitz | |
| Verse 1 Ryu | |
| Yeah | |
| Styles | |
| Come on | |
| Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around | |
| Uh | |
| Knock ' em out | |
| Uh uh | |
| Line ' em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain' t live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won' t have no more | |
| Come on | |
| Click Click Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around uh | |
| Knock ' em out | |
| Line ' em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain' t live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won' t have no more | |
| When I was a youngin' | |
| Who would ever thought that | |
| I' d be number one | |
| Banging in your trunk fat | |
| Beats for the grungie | |
| Heat for the outsie | |
| People in the back | |
| Keeping it bouncing | |
| R to the Y to the U | |
| Get up Get up | |
| Suckers ain' t live yet | |
| Enoughs enough | |
| You damn right | |
| We changed for the better | |
| And got back together | |
| And locked rap | |
| Surrender and drop that | |
| Duck like you back in your bush | |
| You wanna learn to battle | |
| Start cracking them books | |
| I' ve been sick from the jump | |
| Dirty from the get go | |
| Six in the pump | |
| Thirty in the clip load | |
| Rip through a beat | |
| Like butter in kill | |
| Peep the last man shook | |
| Yo | |
| We stutter and still | |
| RRRyu is too ill | |
| Stop and think | |
| You want some girl scout beats | |
| Or some knocks and pins | |
| Have it your way | |
| I' ma stay dropping a flame | |
| Blaze and pop insane shit | |
| I never change | |
| Chorus | |
| Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around | |
| Uh | |
| Knock ' em out | |
| Uh uh | |
| Line ' em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain' t live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won' t have no more | |
| Come on | |
| Click Click Click Click | |
| Talk about sick shit | |
| Fuck around uh | |
| Knock ' em out | |
| Line ' em up | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| Suckers ain' t live enough | |
| Let me tell you something | |
| I won' t have no more | |
| Verse 2 Tak | |
| So here we go again | |
| The dopest if you noticed him | |
| Hopefully I' m rolling with | |
| The golden ounce I' m supposed to get | |
| For flowin it | |
| Knowing when suckers ain' t live enough | |
| Yet | |
| Time' s up | |
| Line ' em up | |
| Till they buy enough crack | |
| With your gold card razor | |
| Shot the whole place up | |
| Snatch the face | |
| Playing and remove the fake make up | |
| Stand on the edge with a mannequin head | |
| Cram it with lead | |
| And battle till you hand him his legs | |
| I got a plan to get fed | |
| Till my stamina ends | |
| Crap in your Benz | |
| Stomp with my lavender Timbs | |
| Say you don' t even know | |
| When the show is over | |
| A lonely soldier | |
| Grown for closure | |
| A small time crook | |
| On a stolen poster | |
| That' s why I wrote a book on this rollercoaster | |
| Now everybody move but they can' t even speak | |
| The party rules of an outlaw that' ll handle your teeth | |
| No tools can' t write | |
| Can' t rap to a beat | |
| Your O' douls getting sappy | |
| You' re wacker then me | |
| How you gonna claim something that you never believe | |
| The regular breed that tipsscales | |
| Sell us some key | |
| But under your sleeves | |
| You fronting to whatever degree | |
| The second you breathe | |
| The element of the weapon you squeeze | |
| Like click click click click | |
| Tell you please | |
| There ain' t nothing better then these raw delicacies | |
| Come on | |
| Chorus | |
| Verse 3 Tak | |
| Yeah | |
| Instead of running | |
| I' ll walk instead | |
| I remember growing up rocking Talking Heads | |
| You may ask yourelf | |
| How cool he is | |
| It' s just me fascination with the Human League | |
| Verse 4 Ryu | |
| Now I don' t know who said it and when | |
| I' m not nice | |
| Yeah right | |
| That bitch never said it again | |
| I play rough to the death | |
| Enough respect | |
| Let the slugs eject then | |
| Come correct | |
| My man Mic' s my best friend | |
| Arm to the teeth | |
| We settle beef together | |
| Like identical twins | |
| Oooh shit catch a bad one | |
| Oh | |
| Can you imagine the pain of a . 45 magnum | |
| Bang. |
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