Nástroje
Ensembles
Genres
Skladatelia
Umelci

Texty: L.G. Wise. Me Vs Industry. Live Or Die.


[Verse 1]
Yo I roll with Godbody Prayin fearin nobody
My life belong to Him So I don't need a shoty
You ain't got no peace at home Ridin, Cryin on the phone
Puffin lah Ready to die So you huffin on your chrome
So if the Ruff wanna ride, the Ruff gotta die
Just like if Puff wanna walk, Then Puff gotta lie
People just don't understand I spit it righteously
But you get your life right And you might just be
Got you candy-coated sweet-long
With the feet on Clockin dollars everyday
But you know you livin wrong
So just livin life in this war like it's a game
All alone and never knowin the peropse why they came
In the streets they learn to kill, In the club they pack steel
And it's all for the sake of a game that ain't real
So they learn to throw slugs, Like they learn to sold drugs
A good son corrupted by a cold hearted thug
Fast life make no sence when you dead and you gone
Right now you got a chance to chose your right from wrong
But it kills me to see those thugs that don't care
When they die leavin' children behind It ain't fair
Some wanna ride, Some wanna die
But heres your chance to live or die

[Chorus]
Live or die
'Cuz the way that you live's gonna be the way that you die
Look what you wanna do Live or die
I know you claim to be real
I see the thug in your eye
So what you wanna do Live or die
'Cuz the way that you come's gonna be the way that you go
Now what you wanna do Live or die
All the dough that you make you can't take when you go

East Coast

[Verse 2]
Name one get some Yo we got this here
Predestened by the Lord You can't stop this here
I roll with the real ones 'Bout to drop this here
Your visions kinda blury We 'bout to make this clear
Lil Wayne I know you hurtin' 'cuz you lost your pops
The block was so hot you had to slang that rock
Thugs grillin' ya so you sleep with your glock
Thuggin' hard up in my life Dogg I had to stop
Saw my my man last year He just got locked
Escaped from the hood Just like Lot
Didn't wanna get shot End up just like Pac
Or end up in the flames 'Cuz it's just too hot
Yeah, I heard your album And Baby boy it was wac
Murder lyrics, deceving spirits sung over the track
While you flowin in the studio and sippin' that cogiac
What you spittin but not livin I'm tired of this phonie act
Sold your soul, had to pay to play the game
'Cuz as soon as you make that chedder son, you'll never be the same
You forgot from which you came and you suckers are still lame
Like Tony Montana and his wac rap game
Money exagerates you, the truth will agravate you
I spit the type of wisdom you choose or can't relate to
Even the dumbest on the streets son, can estimate you
Fantisizing in your lyrics seems to motivate you
But I don't immitate you and I don't player hate you
But I'm prayin' for your souls that hell's fire escape you
I know the game ain't the same and the fame is what you claim
But I'm tellin' you Playboy you gotta pay to play the game

[Chorus]

West Coast
Posledné žiadosti