Slaughterhouse - Life In The City lyrics

[Hook:] Life in the city is not very pretty It seems like it's a waste of your time [Verse 1: Joell Ortiz] Trojans cause the lifestyles bust faster No font on no backwood, just Dutchmaster Fifth of Henn, a radio on Funkmaster I don’t come from a wack hood with a Dutch factor Ten speed in a black hood, that’s a gun clapper We chop fair ones ‘till someone dropped of lung asthma Before this I lived a lifestyle like "f** rappers" A buck trapper up after dark with the cut cracker Tucked up under the tongue, who want a buck half of That’s a smiley face on your cheek, stitch ‘em up laughter I snuffed son ‘cause he walked through with a rough hatter Came in the store and stepped on my Timbs and made ‘em scuff faster These n***as ain’t ‘bout that life, bunch of young actors Play the right part when you see me, say "What up Scrapper?" See you ain’t got to like me but you will respect me Everytime you say you the nicest, boy, you indirect me Jesus Christ I’m a crisis, you a sip of Pepsi Little buds, little suds at the tip of a Nestle I toot my own horn, I’m Dizzy Gillespie And I reps my city correctly (YAOWA) [Hook] [Verse 2: Joell Ortiz] One-two, my project gritty, extra far from pretty Staircase sloppy pissy and the lobby tipsy And I keep a Barbie with me lookin good My n***az can't leave the country, I bring the country to the hood (let's go!) My real name my rap sh**, I ain't make-believe (Joell) Same n***a who got this break'll still break your knees (uh-huh) I'm still playin Cee-Lo and the bank is cheese Eight G's I fold better, feel that Vegas breeze? Product of the gutter, no father, just a mother Know you runnin but run farther when you hear me say "Word to my mother" (Word to my mother!) Your boy is extra thorough, ask my borough When I'm in Brooklyn they go nuts, you little squirrels can't buy a referral These n***az won't cause they can't so they don't copy (nope!) b**hes with they best friend be yellin "Go papi!" (yeah) Y'all n***az got these freshmen feelin so co*ky But it's just a bunch of yes-men, and a no-body (ha ha!) Just cause you write rhymes don't mean you rhyme right You a light-high, don't jump and become a highlight Lose sight of your hind legs and live in hindsight Cause you n***az aight, but y'all ain't quite like (YAOWA) [Hook]