Life (Explicit) - The Click

It's the first of the month

And my beeper is blowing

I can't stop 'cause my cash is flowing

I'm baggin' 'em up bustin' 'em down quickly

'Cause I got five brothers

Waitin' on me at Thrifty's

I'm in the other bucket

On the late night pursuit

With two kis and

And forty ounce of brew

I ain't trippin' 'cause my tags are legit

Ah sh*t now them tats is on my tip

So I drops my brew what the f**k am I to do

Pass the street to shake that fool

So I smashed on my pedal

And rolled down Golden Gate

And threw these motherf**kin' kis in the lake

Guess who comes through it's a fool

I gat tapped that a** red dog and boo

We kicks it on the hill everyday

Slangin' rocks with Glocks

Now we gots to get paid

The street life's how I'm livin'

And the po-po tryin' to get me

But they can't catch up

To a motherf**kin' Philly

That's how I'm livin' in the day

But when it comes night

I packs a forty and an AK

Waitin' for some punk

To jump so I can start to pop

And put some motherf**kin' holes in his drop

The watch his a** grasp then I laugh

He shouldn't have last

So I taxed his punk a**

A young brother in the game

For my fame and glory

I'm really down for my pops

And the hardcore stories

Mandatory is my money

Ya best believe

Because I'm rollin' through

Ya town with gold tone D's

Lookin' clean with my mug on mean

But in the ghetto it ain't

Nothin' but d**e fiends

I pull up on the turf not

Thinkin' of gettin' burnt

With a nine in the trunk

It ain't gon' be no funk

Serious about my mail

Don't give a f**k about a jail cell

'Cause I post bail

And all hell breaks loose

'Cause I got juice

Though it seems to me

But in reality the other

Man is out to get me

Forever on the run

That sh*t ain't funny

And I ain't never heard of no extra money

The ninety-eight cents

No food for less

I send a d**e fiend to steal my Guess

The ghettos of a way

Where the players star

Where white men won't

Where white kids won't

They say it ain't cool

And it's bad for they health

And if ya hit magazine

Break ya self

'Cause that's the rules man and don't ask why

Either you slang gang bang or die

My only concern is to strive

F**ked up around in the street life

The reason I ain't do eighteen yet check

Is because I got people praying for me bet

I pays my ties even though

The money's filthy

Don't wanna go to church

Because I feel guilty

The way of the street life is really quite scary

Thinkin' tomorrow man

I might get married

So when I leave my pad

I grab mt Glock

And my bulletproof vest

And my ski mask dock

On the gooch pal

I won't be caught out of bounds

Can't let these fools stop my life

So I strive I might be about one eight

But in the mind I more like twenty eight

I see the po-po poppin'

The brothers droppin'

Niggaz plottin' and children starvin'

All this sh*t in my face

I gotta get up out of this place

The middle of V ain't enough see

A ni**a feel like I gotta sell D

I share a room with six little brothers

Three to a bed fightin' over covers

The crack of dawn

I read the paper

A Jewish old lady said a ni**a raped her

The finger always points at the black man

But not the whites Filipinos or Mexicans