| (talking) | |
| I wanna toast, on behalf of y'all ' | |
| Cause the more we get, the more we takin from other people baby | |
| Brooklyn! | |
| Here's a toast to all the dons, dope fiends and hoes | |
| Long cons, diamond rings and the kings that blow | |
| To all the killas and the hustlas, some seem some low | |
| What the deal daddy, it's all good, get that dough ' | |
| Cause a y'all, | |
| I praise clothes, jewels and cars | |
| Paid dues, been schooled but can't remove the scars | |
| Boxed in, it's my life now, part of the game | |
| On the streets with the hustlas who hustle the same | |
| Some of vein, let's toast to all the guns and the gangs | |
| All the wheelchair victims and the one's with the cains | |
| I'm numb to the pain, it's realness that runs through the vein | |
| Becomin sane, so many throwin slumb in the game | |
| So let us toast to the ones in memory of | |
| All the ??? jams we remember we love | |
| We remember we thugs, ???, | |
| Crips and | |
| Bloods Latin | |
| Kings, Five | |
| Percenters, thieves and pimps because | |
| Whatever makes the world go 'round, we down | |
| And we'll react as this world go 'round, we lounge | |
| So raise your cups to the real dogs that raised the pups | |
| And all the young chicks finally at that age to **** | |
| The razor cuts, gun wounds that laid us up | |
| From the beef and all the streetsweaps that made us rough | |
| Made some suck, some wasn't made to trust | |
| So I toast to the east coast, the stage is us | |
| Throw it up for the niggas that could, hold it up | |
| Fold it up, if it's fast money, slow it up | |
| The streets need it, it's gangsta when the beats get pleaded | |
| Sleep, eat and breath it, it's the life, love it or leave it (Chorus) 2x | |
| To the playas and the hustlas, pimps and kings | |
| Rich niggas sittin on mils with ice in their rings | |
| To the bitches and the real hoes, let's raise a toast | |
| Show love, who could take paper the most | |
| So from the streets where the hustlin brought us to life | |
| From the beef and all the scufflin that tought us to fight | |
| The poisinous bikes, police gun wars in the night | |
| The whores in the night, fiends up four in the night | |
| Gave us new style, but some just became too foul | |
| Now it's two-thou', year two-thou' | |
| So I toast to the live that know they broke | |
| Cookin bag they own work and know they coke | |
| Roll they smoke, the underworld that know they loc | |
| It's the life when you catch strikes and hold no notes | |
| Nothin to lose for some that's all out for game | |
| Fued in school, show us all out in vein | |
| First chips niggas get, out comes the chain | |
| That's it, soon his name be, out the game | |
| It's the life, it's like dice, some win, some lose | |
| We pay the price but it's the life that the real ones choose (Chorus) 4x |
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