Tekst:
Life After Death

Now here you come, drop top ridin' You ain't no pimp fake nigga stop lyin' Pussy makes money, stick to the business Think about the real motherfuckers that live it Street life

When the lala hits ya lyrics just splits ya Head so hard, that ya hat can't fit ya Either I'm witcha or against ya Format venture, back through that maze

Who y'all talkin' to man? Check it out, check it out This here goes out to all the niggaz that be fuckin' mad bitches In other niggaz cribs thinkin' shit

's Drew, played fools out they money in pool People swore we was fuckin' but we was just cool She used to hang while I slang my drugs after school She

hustle backwards I smoke Blackwoods and Dutchies, ya can't touch me Try to rush me, slugs go, touchy-touchy You're bleedin' lovely, wit'chyo spirit above me Or beneath me, your whole life

and Sean Combs takin' broads home On the phone with the chip, these Cristal chicks 'Bout to make our own porno flicks, my life's the shit That's not

bitch, another bitch in my life What do ya do when your man is untrue? Do you cut the sucker off and find someone new? I need another man in my life

{Good evening and for my last hit I'd like to take you back to the classic B.I.G. style of course} Playa hater, turn your head 'round Lay on the ground

Now, who's hot who not Tell me who rock who sell out in the stores You tell me who flopped who copped the blue drop Who jewels got robbed who's mostly