C-Bo - Raised in Hell lyrics

(feat. Big Skye) [Verse One: C-Bo] I was born in hell without a pistol Now how can I survive with one live without a vest and 4-5? Runnin from the Task Fo' but smashin for my cash Bankin corners, hop it then I blast on their a** See them piggies want me dead for sure or in the pen Doin 10, instead of me in my Benz on some twins Sippin Hen, smokin indica bomb And keep my pedal to the metal til I'm high and gone I know you rich n***as hate me, can I keep it real and feel this rap sh**? Didn't make me, got out the pen and flip the '97 Drop Mercedes, I'm the *?placenta?* of no love Til the lord save me, straight thugs that'll dump slugs Til they f**in grave, ma** murder motherf**ers to the front page When we hit, we empty clips til we get paid I've been a slave from my cradle to the grave n***a, f** the world, I was raised in hell [Chorus: C-Bo] That's why we buck sh** down and yell "f** the world!" I'd rather die here in hell then die doin life in jail But take the shot with a Mac 12, order hits on the pack tailed From the block to Wotts, we are thug n***as raised in hell [repeat] [Verse Two: Big Syke] I'm bailin thru the set wit a 40, smokin a cigarette Blastin my radio, oldie tunes by The Marvalettes Gangbangin vets on parole as I stroll thru They ra**le Gz like two craps and they strapped too Oh how I love these n***as but I hate em with a pa**ion But I ride for these motherf**ers, when I don't even ask Thug fashion from head to toe, I let the world know That this is Thug Life, motherf**er, til I leave this ho So as my knuckles drag the concrete, big homies hit the streets Transgressions under pressure, preyin on the weak I sink like a fish, I wish upon a ghetto star If the enemies come thru and ride on me they won't get far Big homey got out, hold 22's on a hang Runnin around, sweatin motherf**ers, talkin bout "Let's throw them thangs" Bang, I hit him with a bat and heard his skull crack Then I got *?him the wind in the trach?* til he shattered, to get the Mac [Chorus] [Verse Three: C-Bo] It ain't no love for b**h n***as As I dump slugs and pull the plug on you b**h n***as Pick up my phone and have some thugs hit you trick n***as Wit on gloves or low tommy guns on them stitch n***as Hit n***as with H-K's, split n***as with AK's when we mash for the cash Doin a hundred, blastin buck shots off in that a** True outlaws ready for war, souls will never die The same day we meet d**h, the same day we ride Dumpin slugs with Tek 9's, more bulletproofs my 4-5 I just let em fly, screamin out "b**h n***a die" We's about be a k**er n***a, look outside Tell me one reason why I should pray for eternal life Born and taught in hell, with a gun store on every corner Bodyguard, bulletproof doors, it's hard to be a goner Strapped with heat, these West Coast streets of k**afornia From day one, they have straps on em, cos we was raised in hell [Chorus]