Young Moose - Life Style Remix lyrics

Young Moose n***a Out the mud sh** n***a We ain't gettin no motherf**in hand outs either Youerdme? We got it hard n***a Coming up on that BR Lookin up to our older n***as Thats what they want us ta do YOUERDME? [Hook] Chasing figas f**in b**hes Poppin pistols Yeah, you know thats our lifestyle Think its a game Jump out of ya lane Blow out your brain I got that b**h right now I hate a n***a A p**y n***a Tellin stories sayin what he bout Imma walk off laughin at his a** Like hell yeah Boy, you wild [Verse 1] Young n***a holdin steady Yeah Im war ready I got big Kev inna kitchen He gotta get the raw ready He gotta play wit the mix Hope he ont f** up his wrist My mother acting hot sididdy She like thats what he get Man that lady a trip Keep a extended clip If something happen to her baby Man that lay ill flip It ain't no way Imma slip I gotta stay on my sh** A n***a post up on my block Then Im makin em' dip They like Moose how thats your block? Why you say thats your sh**? Thats where I played dominos, Chess, Spades and IT'S Remember when we had the tone Leave his a** in that split Face shot now he can't even get a bump on his lip Leave his a** stretched like he was drunk off of fifth Double dutch I swear to God You will get jumped in this b**h I got some lor n***as itching They ready to spit He like big bro I gotchu Just send me the pic, n***a [Hook] Chasing figas f**in b**hes Poppin pistols Yeah, you know thats our lifestyle Think its a game Jump out of ya lane Blow out your brain I got that b**h right now I hate a n***a A p**y n***a Tellin stories sayin what he bout Imma walk off laughin at his a** Like hell yeah Boy, you wild [Verse 2] When I first turned 11 I was watching the corner Holla at Loc Hit the vial store in the morning Tried ta post up on the BR Think what you doin Before its too late Cuz there ain't no comin back when you gone We poppin pistols for 40 And poppin pistols for Shawn While we think about Punch We trnna pop it for Tom I do this Dust a n***a Put the sh** inna song I ain't go no picks whoever getting me wrong n***as saying the made me Cuz Im bout it bout it Badulla Thats the lady I came up out of Burned the sales Wit the bake When my father had powder When the fiens sniffed it You woulda thought they ate something sour Dat sh** a missile Like the sh** that hit the twin towers We keep the gun on our hip And keep the d** in the houses And when we run in ya sh** We lay the kids on the couches Donkey told me he got me Cuz he know that Im bout it, n***a [Hook] Chasing figas f**in b**hes Poppin pistols Yeah, you know thats our lifestyle Think its a game Jump out of ya lane Blow out your brain I got that b**h right now I hate a n***a A p**y n***a Tellin stories sayin what he bout Imma walk off laughin at his a** Like hell yeah Boy, you wild