Joell Ortiz - Life in the City lyrics
[Joell Ortiz - Life in the City lyrics]
Life in the city is not very pretty
It seems like it's a waste of your time
Trojans cause the LifeStyles bust faster
No Fonto, no Backwoods, just Dutch Master
Fifth of Henn, a radio on Funkmaster
I don’t come from a wack
Hood where the ducks factor
Ten speed in a black hood
That’s a gun clapper
We shot fair ones ‘till someone
Dropped of lung asthma before this I lived a
Lifestyle like ''fuck rappers''
A buck trapper up after dark
With the cut cracker
Tucked up under the tongue
Who want a buck half of
That’s a smiley face on your cheek
Stitch ‘em up laughter
I snuffed son ‘cause he walked
Through with a rough hatter
Came in the store and stepped on my
Timbs and made ‘em scuff faster
These niggas ain’t ‘bout that life
Bunch of young actors
Play the right part when you see me
Say "What up Scrapper?"
See you ain’t got to like me
But you will respect me
Everytime you say you the nicest, boy
You indirect me
Jesus Christ I’m a crisis, you a sip of Pepsi
Little buds
Little suds at the tip of a Nestle
I toot my own horn, I’m Dizzy Gillespie
And I reps my city correctly (YAOWA)
One, two, my project gritty
Extra far from pretty
Staircase sloppy pissy and the lobby tipsy
And I keep a Barbie with me looking good
My niggas can’t leave the country
I bring the country to the hood
Let's go - my real name my rap shit
I ain’t make believe
Same nigga who got this break'll
Still break your knees
I‘m still playing Cee-Lo and
The bank is cheese
Eight G’s I better, feel that Vegas breeze?
Product of the gutter, no father
Just a mother
Know you running, but run farther
When you hear me say "Word to my mother"
Your boy is extra thorough, ask my borough
When I’m in Brooklyn they go nuts
You little squirrels can’t buy a referral
These niggas won’t cause they can’t
So they don’t copy
Bitches with they best friend
Be yelling "Go Papi"
Y’all niggas got these Freshmen
Feelin' so cocky but, it's just a bunch of
Yes-men and a nobody
Just cause you write rhymes don't
Mean you rhyme right you a light-high
Don't jump and become a highlight
Lose sight of your hind legs
And live in hindsight
Cause you niggas aight
But you ain't quite like (YAOWA)
It seems like it's a waste of your time
Trojans cause the LifeStyles bust faster
No Fonto, no Backwoods, just Dutch Master
Fifth of Henn, a radio on Funkmaster
I don’t come from a wack
Hood where the ducks factor
Ten speed in a black hood
That’s a gun clapper
We shot fair ones ‘till someone
Dropped of lung asthma before this I lived a
Lifestyle like ''fuck rappers''
A buck trapper up after dark
With the cut cracker
Tucked up under the tongue
Who want a buck half of
That’s a smiley face on your cheek
Stitch ‘em up laughter
I snuffed son ‘cause he walked
Through with a rough hatter
Came in the store and stepped on my
Timbs and made ‘em scuff faster
These niggas ain’t ‘bout that life
Bunch of young actors
Play the right part when you see me
Say "What up Scrapper?"
See you ain’t got to like me
But you will respect me
Everytime you say you the nicest, boy
You indirect me
Jesus Christ I’m a crisis, you a sip of Pepsi
Little buds
Little suds at the tip of a Nestle
I toot my own horn, I’m Dizzy Gillespie
And I reps my city correctly (YAOWA)
One, two, my project gritty
Extra far from pretty
Staircase sloppy pissy and the lobby tipsy
And I keep a Barbie with me looking good
My niggas can’t leave the country
I bring the country to the hood
Let's go - my real name my rap shit
I ain’t make believe
Same nigga who got this break'll
Still break your knees
I‘m still playing Cee-Lo and
The bank is cheese
Eight G’s I better, feel that Vegas breeze?
Product of the gutter, no father
Just a mother
Know you running, but run farther
When you hear me say "Word to my mother"
Your boy is extra thorough, ask my borough
When I’m in Brooklyn they go nuts
You little squirrels can’t buy a referral
These niggas won’t cause they can’t
So they don’t copy
Bitches with they best friend
Be yelling "Go Papi"
Y’all niggas got these Freshmen
Feelin' so cocky but, it's just a bunch of
Yes-men and a nobody
Just cause you write rhymes don't
Mean you rhyme right you a light-high
Don't jump and become a highlight
Lose sight of your hind legs
And live in hindsight
Cause you niggas aight
But you ain't quite like (YAOWA)