Lyrics:
(repeat)
Written by Arona, Raggdat Cris, & Punialava’a
a gamble
My life been in shamble
Double edge sword burnin' both sides of the candle
"But Cris, you can't handle the truth"
Don't want to face
ever since life been a gamble
My life been in shamble
Double edge sword burning both sides of the candle
"But Cris, you can't handle the truth"
My girl got a girlfriend
See 'em in a pearl Benz
Passin' by ya, sittin' higher
Flyin' then what yours is
My girl got a girlfriend
And we be bringin'
Pas d'amour chez nous, j'te baise et naleki
Après un drive-by en T-Max t'es mort ou en béquille (t'es mort)
Viens pas nous tester c'est une
streets still no
Matter how ugly it seems long as I got on my
Bulletproof Buddy Lee jeans
Kweli and 'Cris
Niggas never heard no shit like this
Yeah, I got
Yeah, F-50
As times go by, I twist the lah
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gon' die
You think I'm off point 'cause
You see me gettin' high
But
Halo, sippin' Cris and we straight
Monday, we go to Bungalow 8
Tuesday, I'm in Spa, drunk, doin' the shake
And for the rest of the week, we just follow
we on the way to the house
By 3:45 I'll be kickin' her out (ayy)
I got million dollar dreams and federal nightmares (ayy)
We pop Cris', my nigga,
Talking pounds 'cause I smoke it
Talking game 'cause I played it
I'm wasted, Rose that's my favorite
OG kush you could taste it
Buying Cris' by
we on the way to the house
By 3:45 I'll be kickin' her out (ayy)
I got million dollar dreams and federal nightmares (ayy)
We pop Cris', my nigga,
about the past, now's a better time than never
Matter of fact, it's time to start making better decisions
So put your fires out, and stop burning 'Cris
(ohh-oh-ohh, all the above)
Uhh, uhh (ohh-oh-ohh)
[Beanie Sigel]
Yeah, Mr. Him F'Real is here
Curbside by Atlanta, got a mill' out there
Billionaires Boys
(Hey Cris, fuck you!)
Pull up in my pain like I'm Cris, yeah
I got bands on me (uh)
Beams on me (uh)
Lean on me (ay)
Do not lean on me (ay)
holding a leng, G roll wid a skeng, When my face is bait up
It's 6 in the morn, My sis wid a jawn, Said cris don't wait up
Poor ski She bout da dumb yutes,
a gritty fiend for,
Money, power, respect, get it by any means uh,
New Yorker, slick talker, walk like a brick flipper,
Decimal doctor, multiply to get
[Master P talking]
It's like all the shit we done been through, the average company
They probably would've gave up by now
But No Limit, we constantly
If I could stick my hand in my heart
Spill it all over the stage
Would it satisfy you
Would it slide on by you
Would you think the boy is strange
and stay real jiggy, uh-huh
And sip the Cris' and get pissy-pissy
Flow infinitely like the memory of my nigga Biggie, baby
You know it's hell when I come
a couple books by Donald Goins
Bout the business of this shit, how to flip a few coins
Before the age of eighteen, I was destined to make it
My bank account
and stay real jiggy, uh-huh
And sip the Cris' and get pissy-pissy
Flow infinitely like the memory of my nigga Biggie, baby
You know it's hell when I come
on every ride
Cause I got to, I got to nigga
Live life you ain't gone live it twice
Pop cris, smoke dro, and get that white
Don't worry bout the price
chose I
I ain't gonna lie
What I look like turnin' down chocha
Drove by, smokin' lye
Recognize a pimp, open your eyes
Hop in the passenger side
is like hangin' yourself at a.....
I know you thought I'd be locked up
Dead by now, shot up, full of lead by now
Got up wit' JD doh', crazy
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