In the life we live as thugs,
Everbody fuckin wit us so can't you see
It's hard to be a man.
Ridin wit my gun in hand.
Why explain the game? Niggas ain't listenin.
Stuck in positions. If victims can't stand the heat,
Then stay the fuck out the kitchen.
Have these bustas switchin, lookin at me mean.
Itchin, givin suckas plenty space.
Have these bitch niggas snitchin.
Where are we now? Guns found daily.
The feds surely hope that they could finally nail me for sellin dope.
They backwards, make tracks burst whenever I rap.
Attack. Words bein known to explode on contact.
Extreme at times. Blinded by my passion and fury.
Look at me laugh at my competition's flashin my jewelry.
You'd stay silent if you niggas knew me. Truely effective.
The shit you heard ain't do me justice. Got a death wish, bitch.
Run up, face me and trace wit an infared beam.
It seems niggas ain't recognize my team.
Ain't nobody holdin you back. Explode the track to confetti.
Unload it. Cuz niggas ain't ready. The life of an outlaw.
Chorus repeats
Code 3. Attack formation. Pull out your pistols.
Keep an eye out for the devils cuz they itchin to get you.
Mercy to this madman screamin kamikaze in tongue.
Automatic gunfire makin all my enemies run.
Who should I call when I'm shot and bleedin.
Indeed the possibility has part a chase in cream.
Dope got me hatin fiends. Scheam wit my team, just a chosen few.
My foes victim of explosives. Come closer. Exhale the fumes.
We got memories fadin fast. A slave for cash.
Accelerate, mash, blast, then dash.
Don't look now. How you like it, raw.
Niggas ain't ready for the wrath of the outlaws. Never surrender.
Dea
