Half-A-Mill - Street Life lyrics

[Intro: AZ] Yea Devine Intervention Miliato, Begetz, AZ Quiet Money Presents [Verse 1: Half-A-Mil] (R.I.P.) Now the twin towers done blew up n***as seen the footage and threw up I got platinum bullets for y'all to chew up Mil-latin the dog done grew up Is it still Manhatten I speak street slang arab-a-latin My gunz speak rat-a-ta-in Understand my lingo I'm from Albany Afganistan f** Chris Cringo and Christopher Columbus I'll shoot scud missles through his kango and spray z gas On ya f*ggot a** Allah you akba, make 767's crash Smack Jesus Christ and smoke a half a pound of hash I keep a half a pound of cash I thought I told you cats I'm not a rapper Rock a G on my chest that stands for god f** Dan I'm dapper Prada from head to toe Dollars, cherries in the moe You fake a** pimps, get my chips So I'm burying you and your hoes I plant plutonium bombs after each and every show So every artist you sign is guaranteed to blow I'm guaranteed to flow Puffin that magic weed Knowledge itself n***a that's what you need So f** you and those crabs that you feed, tell 'em holla at me [Hook: AZ] New York New York with blood in your ice Put numbers on your head k**a name your price We gets love where ever we go Cause the street life is all we know It's all we know [Verse 2: Begetz] I work for a quarter million in dope A million dollars in cash 1.5 under the bathroom stash Put that little a** gun away n***a Step up your murder game Still f**in wit weed Step up to h**ne Cardiay diamond links no more gold chains Vertical doors, candy paint, and woodgrain I'm the one to watch n***as don't cover your eyes So many eyes on my watch got 'em hypnotized f**in with hustlers ballin like rap n***as, throwin money in the air screemin I ain't gotta rap n***as The 9 m & m ain't sweet like candy Got mines on me front row with a grammy Slugs on the left and lust on the right f** an award boo we'll take you home tonight Milli gates in the spyder with the gla** roof Damn near crashed in valet off that over proofed sh**, we drunk [Hook] - 2X [Verse 3: AZ] I got one son, two guns, a couple of cribs Just tryin to live f** gettin stuck with a bid n***as I f** with now Used to f** with his kids Slim dude food never stuck to my ribs Been tried on occasions I lie with persuasion Hustled out of town nearly died in a Days Inn Breezed on a turnpike Received then returned kites Cold D to O.G homie n***a earn strikes Burnt mics Left 'em there to sizzle for shizzle You know the dizzle my nizzle I'm so visual All j**els tiz you paid dues true to the grizzle Blew a few mil and still official BIG we still miss you The games real fickle It's two thou and a nickel n***a trying to go triple Until I'm there wit you A wheel chair cripple It's no secret I'm a keep it popin like a pistol [Hook] - 2X