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作词 : Fireson, Wilson |
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I'm thug for life, ain't no changin me |
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I'm thug for life, ain't no changin me |
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I pop off guns and live dangerously |
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I'm lot more ****** than you aimin to be |
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My Range bling, platty chain hang to the knee |
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I'm thug for life, ain't no changin me |
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[Verse One] |
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Aiyyo, who got the drop, my gun been ******ed |
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Spits from four-fives to flintlocks, pinky finger with the pimp rock |
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Hustle on dim blocks and sip Henn-rock |
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Draw quick, got a second hand like Big Ben clock (ya heard?) |
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Reach for that heat, put your wig in the wind pop |
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Fill your belly with ten shots; if I get hit |
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and you see blood then flood the bullet wound with gin shots |
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Put beef in a Slim Jim box |
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******* you wanna pinch and win slot |
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Clap lead until your big friend drop |
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******z'll front until I send chin shots |
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Beat the rock until they send cops (or what?) |
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'Til one of us'll get carried out on the thin cot |
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Emergency room skin chopped by ten docs |
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Got it locked like a bid in the state pen box |
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When I dares peers hangin to where my *******n stop; before I struck rich |
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****** ******* and killed 'em with a ten inch ****** (f'real) |
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******* ****** stuck him with a ten inch ock (y'know?) |
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Bread bloods and stiff vodka, deep in this game |
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Know the feds want the clique locked up |
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We love brain so we headhunt like witchdoctors |
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My lil' momma let lead dump from big poppa |
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Even the Jake surrounded the spread with pig choppers |
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that taste preposterous; tear gas, tanks of oxygen |
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Like we in banks with hostages (what we want?) |
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All we want is minks and ostriches (what?) |
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Diamond cuff links and proper *******t |
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Snitches left stinkin in carpet stiff |
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Or get they carcasses turned to link sausages (f'real) |
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Ain't nuttin sweet, we known for bangin cartridges |
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We got the heart for this |
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No matter how light or dark it is (ya heard?) |
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(No matter how light or dark it is, f'real) |
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Thug for life (what?) Rep by strips (killers) |
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Let loose clips (dealers) Stack mad chips (you know we) |
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Bag bad chicks (my ******z) Push fly whips (all of the) |
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Hoes blow ****** (******) G flows sick (what?) |
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[Chorus] |
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[Verse Two] |
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My whole life about chrome rims and stone gems (what?) |
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Big boned skins, Capone brims, ****** blown in my own Benz |
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Quick to Scarface thugs who raise up blown brims |
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Dolla trickin never politickin with grown mens |
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Ideas of settin me up for loot I won't bend |
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Just make that light bulb at the top of your dome dim (uh-huh) |
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Who rap-happy ****** keep the lyrics and poems grim |
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Get found at the bottom of the river with stone Timbs (word) |
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Babyface, swimmin flash stomach and toned limbs |
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Wake up every mornin work out in the home gym |
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Reppin this rap game until my zone ends (uh-huh) |
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'Til mixin boards melt down, the microphone bend (yea) |
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I spit about street *******t but never condone sin |
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Kept it thug for life baby followed my own trend |
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[Chorus] |
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Kid!! Word.. thug *******t |
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Queens *******t for life ****** |