Life's a Gamble
Lyrics
Aiyo, when we writing, yo, shit is like the vice laws
Fighting everybody wet, Lex dog, vibe on biting necks
There goes the new hammer, microwave blamp, from the stove to the roads
Down in New Hampshire, brolic size, wallet guys
Frame broiled shotties, with the Ducati's, my pockets is set
Now watch what you rep, I've been buying niggas heads
Wall crawler, Captain Caveman, in the hall scrawling
Money is stacked up, better than yours
Do with the rappers, clap niggas, slap 'em, and car jack 'em
Everything niggas is serving, is crack, what, preferably Kellogg's
You just a goldmine, yup, cereal bowls of heroin
Yup, the Don Baron, it's worth hundreds, say something
Niggas fronting while we doubling, pump 'em
And lay 'em right in front of the steps
The new Mark Cuban, Mavericks, we moving like Arabics
Faces is wrapped, crosses on like Catholics
Blend to the music, it's all in the game
[Chorus]
Riding through life in this fast lane, fast change
Ya'll deal when the lights green, but when that light change
You gotta make a slight change, use your wipers cause it might rain
Life's a gamble like a dice game
Aiyo, I'm when I'm writing I be thinking like Donald Goines
Posted up on the strip, fishing like bitches hoeing
Blowing like Jesse Owens, run laps around these tracks
And I stay up in the hood like, weed and cracks
Damn right, I still pack the strap, duck if I whip it out
But if I whip it out, you're people will be picking out
A coffin and a tombstone, park 'em in the graveyard
Prayers and a leap of faith, probably couldn't save ya'll
That's the path of bravehearts, clap you in the hallway
Turn two o's that soft, into three the hard way
Move the diesel all day, shut it down in night time
That's when the undercovers buy, in night time
Move to the forefront, Ratch' had the store front
First I had two goals, now I got more front
Bitch I been G'd up, put a O in front of that
Keep them bitches ski'd up, blowing off each other's back
[Chorus]
Heavy white ice, gold ornaments, hustle and life
Hustle and light, good with the pill
Be at all the tournaments, stroll in the beach
Out in Luv Allah, we love all of ya'll
Killah Hill, Staten Africa, rap massacre
Make a phone call, have niggas get at cha
Rat ya, two double nines in the back of the Acura, it's a Don thing
Don King, Don bitches under the ring
We don't ever sing, raps get cut in the bing
Posse up, see me the Beemer or Benz truck
Reppin' that W, it's trouble for you
Knife through ya bubble goose, veterans loose, thirty nine on the deuce
Pick it up, stick it up, niggas is thinking to bust
Breaking these states for they cake, you know what it do
What's up, Goldie? Niggas wanna march, hanging with Jody
Street Flavor click, roll thicker than shit
We the upmost, faggot niggas get bitched
Smacked with the toast, crackin' the line in the coke
Niggas'll cutthroat, cutthroat, infered on top of the scope
Crack in the dial, mixed with soap, Killah Island
Copyright(s): Lyrics © ENTERTAINMENT ONE U.S. LP
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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