Lyrics:
I be on some get rich shit
Rich nigga shit, rich nigga shit, rich nigga shit
Cuz I be going hard at life
Feel like I live a hunnid lives
I be on some
of hand
With 50 million dancers and a big old band
That ain't me, I'm from the old school
Play the instrumental, get the mic and I'm cool
Cause I'm
and a big old band
That ain't me, I'm from the old school
Play the instrumental, get the mic and I'm cool
Cause I'm an Oaktown mack and it's like that, so
Take a shot at the Excorcist then
X em out with these words
Panoramic views be tumblin' out my mind
This ain't 1992 bullets tumblin' out no nines
Big
Worked all his life in the rail yards
Summer heat, winter cold
He sits by the fire, this year he'll retire
He don't really feel all that old
of cash can get a nigga bag
But that don't make you big and bad, just mean you rich and mad
Nigga, your pillow soft, so kill the boss talk
Me to you's
the rocks before the rock paid me
That's all I know it's this ghetto
Late nights where you had shot echo
This the hood life, this the good life
Young love
my heart is still
I find it hard to depart this big city life
Big city life
Me try fi get by
Pressure nah ease up no matter how hard me try
Big
the sky, painted by the dawn
We live for this high, till the night is gone
Celebrating life, free from any strife
Girls have more fun, in the rhythm we
live and die somewhere south of Memphis
Well, I've seen my share of big ol' cities
But I couldn't wait to get back home
Well, they'll play you a,
the table)
This is the kinda life I’m tryna live for (tryna live for)
Funny you fake yeah, funny you fake (you fake)
I’m the realest nigga you can meet in
not the way I wanna live, my nigga
It's how it is homie got into a fight last
Night that killed his kids
In this life I lead, fiend for currency
Get
yeah
I'm a go-getter, nigga, being down never fazed us
Used to get it off the RAZR
I'm a pioneer in the A, sir, don't be fooled by this blazer
Send
the book
A Mastermind
Never do a thing irrational
Lives forever, these tales are classical
Velvet bow ties, bulletproofs in the tux, when I roll by
In
Yo man, what you need?
Yo uh, man, I need something, man
I need a twenty, man
What you got, man?
I, I got this rope chain, man
Man, this look
(Chorus)
Play that thing, man.
(1st Instrumental Break)
Some people say you live on an island
With Marylin Monroe.
And every night Jim Bo Morrison
Puts
Those crazy Christians
Instead of being outside on this sunny afternoon
They're by the bedside of a stranger in a cold hospital room
And every now
alright
We gon' live a good life
Big homie better grow up
Me and my whoadies 'bout to stroll up
I see them boppers in the corner
They sneaking out
insanity
Now always seem to be governed by this love we have
For useless, twisting of our new technology
Oh, now there is no sound for we all live
servin' life, I pray it's life after death (B-I-G)
Look, I walk with a limp, this shit look like I'm dancin' (woah)
Hoes arguin' over me, Monica, Brandy
at a hundred and eleventh before you can say not guilty
I'm not filthy nor am I rich
Ain't that a bitch
Like life is, not your wife is
See that your better
big money shit
Now everybody tryin' to get rich
Now get rich niggas, fuck it
Some rap pioneers, be them crackheads
When they speak, you see
rich
But compared to then, that'd been a big switch
Drivin big cars, wearin rings and ropes
But man without a plan all he had was hopes
So he sat down,
Yo, Dre! (Dre! Dre! Dre!)
It was once said by a man who couldn't quit
Dope man please, can I have another hit?
The dope man said "Cluck, I don't
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