E-40 - Lifestyles lyrics
[E-40 - Lifestyles lyrics]
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 Maker 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
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
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 it's 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
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
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 Maker 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
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
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 it's 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
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