E-40 Lifestyles Lyrics

Lifestyles Lyrics



[Verse 1]

Desperado always drinkin' out the bottle

Young hyena with the HK hollow point staple spray

Turf tight soil block warrior from the avenue

Mean muggin' like I'm mad at you

Boiler make Baker's whiskey mixed in with my brew

Celebratin' smoking Mendocino bud this is the lifestyle of a thug

A hooligan a heathen wolverine everybody on my team got a triple beam

Tossin' candy to the dope fiends

Million dollar spot million dollar dreams

Four or five different colored techa-marines

Yellow diamonds and stones and two-way pager phones

Plushed out SUV's smokin Leprechaun

Flowers in the back seat watchin' Austin Powers with the windows up

Lost tryin' to get where we gettin'

Talking to the operator on my OnStar system



[Chorus x2]

This is the lifestyle that I choose

We smoke tweed get ki'd all day and drink brews

Which of these rap stars fart, shit, burp and get paper

Spray myself with sucka repellent and shake haters



[Verse 2]

Every morning I got to have a nice fat joint and a hot bubble bath

Wrapped in a Backwood or a Zig-Zag

Eyes red like a broad on a rag

My pants sag down past my waistline with the vive

When I leave the coffee table got my nine by my spine

Funkin' like its goin' out of style

Mo' beef than a cow speakin ebonics

Evonics and broken English from Venus

Intelligent hoodlums and geniuses

From the inner city Al Capones and Frank Nittys

From the ruler to the tutor hubba heada shoota

In the back for a hubble rock or crack



[Chorus x2]



[Verse 3]

See uh I just look like this but I'm really about my scratch

See what it is I want the po-pos to think that

I'm just as square as a box of apple jacks

I shoot craps drive GMC Avalanches and EXT Cadillacs

If you snooze you lose I know you got a lot a trust in your dudes

But check for traps and clues nobodys playin' by the rules anymore

Not even the people that made 'em up

My hood is corrupted and full of infidel one poverty

Not too much faithfulness mostly all betrayal

Mostly all my folks are dead or locked away in jail

Speakin' about some people that I miss

Tijuana Carter, Ricardo Slay and Lisa Smith

Fred, Tito, Pat and Kobe and OG dead brother Fab the big homie

Hillside representin' this to the fullest

And all my homies locked down pullin' bullets



[Chorus x3]



Uhhhhhhh!