A$AP Rocky - Wildside lyrics

[Hook: T.I. - singing] Smoking weed, riding chrome Only thing I've ever known Is walk on the wildside Welcome to our lives Slangin' keys, spraying K's Every day we getting paid To walk on the wildside Welcome to our lives [T.I.] Come take a little walk with me through my neighborhood and come spend a day in my trap Get your paper right and that yay some good but just keep a tool in your lap My lil patna holding that work, n***a want weight then keep around back Better not violate on my turf, n***a you's in danger to die like that Ain't no investigation, no statements and no witnesses, we ain't seen sh** Pull up after dark with that j**elry on to come see a b**h, that way he get it We on dark road with no street lights, that pistol play after fist fights And them geek monsters walk all night with they crack pipes tryna get right Midnight we shoot dice, the whole house smelling like cooked crack You beat me, and you talk sh**, you get shot b**h, and I took that Hoodrats on deck, that loud is all I blow This sh** to you might sound wild, but this life is all I know [Hook] [T.I.] Can you picture me back in '93 bumpin' Dr. Dre while I hit some weed? Cut school, made ten G; thirteen, trying to get keys At fifteen, I was full-grown, get wrong, get bust on My uncle gave me a bunch of work and that sh** was gone by the next morning Young wild n***a runnin' with me, homicide wasn't nothing to us Dead body wasn't nothin' to see, that pistol play was just fun to us I was 19 with two felonies, one of my best friend had a life sentence How my uncle Fred was just like me and had a bunch of partners no longer living All about that c**aine dealing, no education, no pot to piss in Old school, on chrome wheel, window tinted, pistol hidden That's the sh** that I come from; in my heart, fear ain't none Stand tall, I can't run from that wildside, that I walk on [Hook] [ASAP Rocky] Uh, yeah All I ever did was put on, all my old friends tryna get on Shorty fell out, making diss songs, never talk down when I get home Ain't the type of n***a you can sh** on; hundred spokes, brick, chrome God body, big bone, that's hard body, Jim Jones n***as know the sound of how we switch on him, finna wild out on a Tip song Better make a toast, n***a, Tip home, first get the bread, then get going From the land of the lead where they spit chrome where most kids never get to live long Get their pistols, get pissed on, pistol-whipped and stripped, homie Left for a minute and they switched on me, caught them talking down, tryna b**h on me And they snitch on me, ain't got sh** on me so my guess is d**h is what they wish on me So I'm blowing on them candles, closed lids and dark eyes Cause hate's never part time when you on that wildside [Hook]