[B-Real]
|
I rolled you up like my Rizla
|
Cut you up, with my sisters
|
You wanna get us - yeah, the venom spitters
|
Your style's trash: don't litter
|
You got the jitters the hardhitters
|
No quitters your soul quivers
|
When you see the gats blazin, get out the street now
|
There ain't no use for you beggin to turn the heat down
|
You label me coldblooded
|
You wanna warm me up with hot lead the gat thudded
|
You can't cut it
|
You wack, but it's - no use your mouth shut it
|
Shootin arrows diamond-studded, and still budded
|
You got to love it, you better chase the paper all day
|
So you can walk down the long platinum hallway
|
But now the fools are minutemade;
|
they get played for a minute
|
then played out they never get back in it
|
Gun park I bring chalk for your body outlined on the floor
|
You got hit by the 4-4!
|
|
[Chorus: B-Real]
|
|
You're in the game called life, son - how you're livin it
|
Street corner kids growin up blowin up
|
You chase dreams you want the highlife, with the skylights
|
But in the end your soul's lost, you lost the shine right
|
Never turn your back ever, on niggaz true to you
|
Stand alone for the cheddar - and they'll be through with you
|
The highlife; yeah, the highlife
|
The highlife; yeah, the highlife
|
|
[B-Real]
|
You gotta hang out with B. Reezy, and take it easy
|
It's gettin greasy, I had to learn how to beat me
|
That's when you go for dolo, and get your meal ticket
|
And still kick it hardcore I'm runnin real with it
|
Niggaz getting softcore, the people want more
|
hardcore shit that's why I give them an encore
|
Curtains opened, you see the people applaud feelin it
|
You can't figure out the formula so you're stealin it
|
Can't stand unoriginal cats with minimal
|
skills that's criminal - you fake bitches!
|
You're lookin for riches, in the wrong places
|
The faces of death look you in the eye cut off your breath
|
When you fall feel your knees shatter
|
The bones breakin with your weak blatter
|
Pissin on yourself it don't matter
|
Dead weight, the bed waits for you on the set date
|
Dreams gone instead fate didn't hesitate
|
to put you away, close the gates now you're locked out
|
Your life: cable, with all the porn channels blocked out (damn!)
|
What you good for? Nothin, so be gone suckers
|
Have a nice trip see you motherfuckers!
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Sen Dog]
|
I live for the highlife, get my mind right
|
Fuck the fame, the game and the limelights
|
Fools that be out there tryin to duplicate
|
But they can't match the aura, can't impersonate
|
See the first things that comes to pass, is the blast
|
of the Cypress Hill weed funk blazin up a path
|
You can't help, but inhale and get strong
|
You need that good shit all up in your lungs
|
I live fast, and keep energy in motion
|
Jah bless, so I feel I been chosen
|
But I know, (?) of he who conquers
|
You gotta come strong and sound off like thunder
|
I check myself and make sure I'm comin real tight
|
Rhyme for my fam, the G's and the highlife
|
|
[B-Real]
|
The highlife - hah, hah
|
The highlife yeah
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Highlife
|
Cypress Hill |