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Live For
Yung Lb, Jim Jones, Lil Pete
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
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(Turn me up)
Facts of life
Facts of life, never been the average type
As long as it's a bad bitch, never really had a type
I grew up around the gangsters and the killers and the savage type
Where I'm from, you was pussy if you never ever had a fight
Got stars in my ceiling like the car need a satellite
The pain for the pain, that's a fact of life
(Damn, turn me up)
Here's my facts of life, never been the average type
Long as it's a bad bitch, never really had a type
I grew up around the gangsters and the killers and the savage type
Where I'm from, you was pussy if you never really had a fight
Stars in the ceiling like the car need a satellite
Pop champagne for the pain 'cause I swear we seen sadder nights
And we love to buy watches, tell the jeweler, "Go and add the ice"
I been married to the game, but they ain't have to scatter rice
The drip is always on check, the grip is always on deck
Sometimes I'm on yachts, you can rock slippers only on deck
I need a breath, I'm about to hit my prime twice
Been Miami three days, we already hit Prime twice
I mix the saucy with the Runtz to get my mind right
A quarter milli' for the milli', so the time's right
So in hindsight, we ain't lookin' behind us 'cause
That's kinda scary, the feds was lookin' to find us, so
All my niggas on go (On go)
Call the cops, man down, it's gon' be a murder
Tell the opps to die slow
Don't hop inside this ride if you gon' be nervous
We don't talk to Five-O
Never make a statement, we pullin' papers
This is what we live for
A lot of shit been on my mind, I been livin' dangerous
Yeah (LB), got a call from the Capo (What's up, G?)
Bring the Runtz down to Cabo (You heard?)
Me and P in the Murciรฉlago, the goons in the Tahoe (Skrrt, skrrt)
I told Bam, "We got a play up in Lake Tahoe" (Yeah)
Seal up the deal, get the mils, bring it to the palo (Palo)
I'm screamin', "Free Ralo" (Free), steady slappin' on Ralo (Ralo)
Just left El Chivo, now they call me Runtz Chapo (Yeah)
And we ballin' like Mayo (Ballin')
, Put my shooters on payroll (Fifty)
Tell the labels to cut a check, how can they even say no?
Gotta keep you a pole (Huh, yeah)
Up in the streets, it be survival (Survival)
Huh, mix the Runtz with the sauce (Runtz, sauce)
I told Capo, "Send another load"
You heard? (You heard?)
I just left Elliot, we could've bought
A Lambo' (That's a hundred bands)
Stayed on the street, exact, it's R.I.P. to Bankroll (Yeah)
You know my strain is VS1, you gotta pay more (VS1)
They know my shooters trained to go, but
They just lay low (Boom, boom, boom), yeah
All my niggas on go (On go)
Call the cops, man down, it's gon' be a murder
Tell the opps to die slow
Don't hop inside this ride if you gon' be nervous
We don't talk to Five-O
Never make a statement, we pullin' papers
This is what we live for
A lot of shit been on my mind, I been livin' dangerous
(Damn, turn me up)
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