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Correct Life In The City Lyrics
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Slaughterhouse
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Correct Life In The City
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[Hook] Life in the city is not very pretty It seems like it's a waste of your time [Verse 1: Joell Ortiz] Trojans cause the LifeStyles bust faster No Fonto, no Backwoods, just Dutch Master Fifth of Henn, a radio on Funkmaster I don’t come from a wack hood where the ducks factor Ten speed in a black hood, that’s a gun clapper We shot fair ones ‘till someone dropped of lung asthma Before this I lived a lifestyle like ''fuck rappers'' A buck trapper up after dark with the cut cracker Tucked up under the tongue, who want a buck half of That’s a smiley face on your cheek, stitch ‘em up laughter I snuffed son ‘cause he walked through with a rough hatter Came in the store and stepped on my Timbs and made ‘em scuff faster These niggas ain’t ‘bout that life, bunch of young actors Play the right part when you see me, say “What up Scrapper?” See you ain’t got to like me but you will respect me Everytime you say you the nicest, boy, you indirect me Jesus Christ I’m a crisis, you a sip of Pepsi Little buds, little suds at the tip of a Nestle I toot my own horn, I’m Dizzy Gillespie And I reps my city correctly (YAOWA) [Hook] [Verse 2: Joell Ortiz] One, two, my project gritty, extra far from pretty Staircase sloppy pissy and the lobby tipsy And I keep a Barbie with me looking good My niggas can’t leave the country, I bring the country to the hood Let's go - my real name my rap shit, I ain’t make believe Same nigga who got this break'll still break your knees I‘m still playing Cee-Lo and the bank is cheese Eight G’s I [?] better, feel that Vegas breeze? Product of the gutter, no father, just a mother Know you running, but run farther When you hear me say “Word to my mother” Your boy is extra thorough, ask my borough When I’m in Brooklyn they go nuts You little squirrels can’t buy a referral These niggas won’t cause they can’t so they don’t copy Bitches with they best friend be yelling “Go Papi” Y’all niggas got these Freshmen feelin' so cocky But it's just a bunch of yes-men and a nobody Just cause you write rhymes don't mean you rhyme right You a light-high, don't jump and become a highlight Lose sight of your hind legs and live in hindsight Cause you niggas aight, but you ain't quite like (YAOWA) [Hook]
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