[Chorus: Spider Loc]
This can’t be life.
We tryin to get rich. Now aint we nice?
There’s gotta be more. She’s a whore. She can’t be wife.
We love goin to war. We can’t be right.
[Spider Loc:]
My niggas drink Koniak all day and smoke cush to the dark.
From the neighborhood picnic we pushed to the park.
Either hit up the swamp meet or roll to the mall.
Later on we all meetin up at the Hole in the Wall.
I aint payin unless the homeboy pat me down.
My nigga aint said shit about that gat he found.
Hoodrats on the dancefloor, shakin they asscheeks.
I’m waitin for the beef to pop off from last week.
[Papa Smurf:]
I pour a whole bottle of Crys out, for Baby Papa.
I drank Yact. I bought that for Baby Papa.
Blowin cush. Thinkin bout Pow Wow G.
I miss Sex. I miss Graze. I miss the homie Lil Lee.
It seems like yesterday.
We was loaded bustin bitches up in your Escalade.
Now I’m fuckin with Spider, reppin the Unit.
Yall my niggas that told me that I would do it.
[Big Foot:]
Money, talk, and times are the essence.
I’m havin visions of my body on a stretcher.
The streets, the hoes, the life that I treasure.
Make cats bow down like the Temple of Mecca.
I’m like the first hit from a bag of that heroin.
Blow cats heads off. Tell them it’s bedtime.
You better bounce cause I’m fillin them low lows.
With a toothpick, white kicks, and rose gold.
[Snoopy Blue:]
The homie Drew stop bangin. Still took they shots.
So I pick and die of what kind of chance I got.
I know the world a bigger place.
So I try to limit space.
That I choose to go through.
They waitin to approach you.
Two or three shots, you gone, just a memory.
Two or three years. I wonder why they don’t remember me.
So I try to live the best I can.
Represent for my dead homies the best I can.
[Chorus x2: Spider Loc]
This can’t be life.
We tryin to get rich. Now aint we nice?
There’s gotta be more. She’s a whore. She can’t be wife.
We love goin to war. We can’t be right.