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Скачать плюс минус mp3 файла песни Эти шаги должны помочь 👇[Intro/Chorus] I'm thug for life, ain't no changin me I'm thug for life, ain't no changin me I pop off guns and live dangerously I'm lot more nigga than you aimin to be My Range bling, platty chain hang to the knee I'm thug for life, ain't no changin me
[Verse One] Aiyyo, who got the drop, my gun been cocked Spits from four-fives to flintlocks, pinky finger with the pimp rock Hustle on dim blocks and sip Henn-rock Draw quick, got a second hand like Big Ben clock (ya heard?) Reach for that heat, put your wig in the wind pop Fill your belly with ten shots; if I get hit and you see blood then flood the bullet wound with gin shots Put beef in a Slim Jim box Bitch you wanna pinch and win slot Clap lead until your big friend drop Niggaz'll front until I send chin shots Beat the rock until they send cops (or what?) 'Til one of us'll get carried out on the thin cot Emergency room skin chopped by ten docs Got it locked like a bid in the state pen box When I dares peers hangin to where my shin stop; before I struck rich Fucked bitches and killed 'em with a ten inch cock (f'real) Bitch nigga stuck him with a ten inch ock (y'know?) Bread bloods and stiff vodka, deep in this game Know the feds want the clique locked up We love brain so we headhunt like witchdoctors My lil' momma let lead dump from big poppa Even the Jake surrounded the spread with pig choppers that taste preposterous; tear gas, tanks of oxygen Like we in banks with hostages (what we want?) All we want is minks and ostriches (what?) Diamond cuff links and proper shit Snitches left stinkin in carpet stiff Or get they carcasses turned to link sausages (f'real) Ain't nuttin sweet, we known for bangin cartridges We got the heart for this No matter how light or dark it is (ya heard?) (No matter how light or dark it is, f'real)
Thug for life (what?) Rep by strips (killers) Let loose clips (dealers) Stack mad chips (you know we) Bag bad chicks (my niggaz) Push fly whips (all of the) Hoes blow dick (nigga) G flows sick (what?)
[Chorus]
[Verse Two] My whole life about chrome rims and stone gems (what?) Big boned skins, Capone brims, dick blown in my own Benz Quick to Scarface thugs who raise up blown brims Dolla trickin never politickin with grown mens Ideas of settin me up for loot I won't bend Just make that light bulb at the top of your dome dim (uh-huh) Who rap-happy nigga keep the lyrics and poems grim Get found at the bottom of the river with stone Timbs (word) Babyface, swimmin flash stomach and toned limbs Wake up every mornin work out in the home gym Reppin this rap game until my zone ends (uh-huh) 'Til mixin boards melt down, the microphone bend (yea) I spit about street shit but never condone sin Kept it thug for life baby followed my own trend
