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Текст песни T-Bone - Street Life

T-Bone - Street Life слова песни

[T-Bone]Yo picture me rollin like Pac in a drop gold double RWomen, champagne, weed, cigars and caviarLivin tha life of a thug, movin em drugs, duckin em slugsDealin wit phones tapped wit bugs, plusAssociated wit some hard hittas, cold killasConvicts, thugs and drug dealersCop killas, and drug lords stackin 8 figuresQuick to pull a trigga and leave a body floatin in the riverWe gorillas in this jungle collectin mad skrillaBankin on cheddar and cream, from dope fiendsFrom a land where everybody gotta fend for themselvesHalf of the mommies doin 25 to life in a cellSeems like we dwell in the pits of hell wit no bailChained up, captive and tortured by the enemy`s spellWho hears my cries from these lonely jail cellAnd what do I profit to lose my soul and gain from drug sales[Chorus]Livin the street lifeCrystal, drugs and crushed iceHangin wit plays who plain hiest and roll diceIn casinos like Bugsy SiegalWe outlaws forever livin illegalTha street life[T-Bone]A yo, the street life is the only life I knowtaught to hustle these streets and grind to make doughCope the 4-4, jump in the 6-4Blast on my adversaries then end up on death rowYo, this was the life I seen raised as a youthWhere everybody smokin chronic, sippin 98 proofAint no happy days and sunshineIn my hood is jus crime, cryin for one timeSlugs flyin, and everybody tryin to come up in this evil drug gameInsane, vision of murder just increase the painCocaine and methamphetamineI want out, but gave an oath to the death of meSo let it be, Ima ride on my enemyBut when they bury me, I fear where my soul will beEternally searchin for light patna, but I`m in the midst of the darkIts so hard, when you in this ghetto prison lookin for God[Chorus][T-Bone]Another homie dies, so I wipe the tears from my eyesAnd ask God how many lonely painful tears will I crySeems like nobody even cares out here in the hoodI tried to get a job, but they swear I`m up to no goodMisunderstood from a young age, on a rampageFrom an adolescent carryin hollow points in a smith-n-wessonFor anybody second guessin, if I`m scared to test emAint nothin even worth livin forThe richa gettin richa and the ghetto remains poorLiqour stores and gun shopsAnd everybody wonder why thugs pack glocks and kill copsFull of hurt since birth, why was I placed on this earthSeems like everybody in this ghetto is cursed wit a curseAnd whats worse, is that my potnah dyin at a fast rateDear God can you help me out, I`m lookin for an escape[Chorus]

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