It's The Life - Young Gunz, Pooda Brown

Yo a yo everybody name brand

Me I was same pants, same top

Broken hot dogs out the same pot

Since a buck I been packin weapons

Only strappin niggas do when they sexin

Airheads in they crew is just yes men

My music and my shoot I perfect in

I can’t afford to lose I’m destined

And hit that road collect tryna hop up

Outta the hood, niggas frown they see me pop up

Get locked up and they still with the coppers

Give them something from them choppers I got filled with the coppers

Leavin them gaspin need ox call the doctor

Raw and uncut no mask know who shot ya

Try and tell 'em chill for real but they don’t listen though

Till the 4−5th come and kiss 'em under the missle toe

And thats the last time I’mma remind y’all

Next time I’m creepin up in something behind y’all

It’s the life

Just livin it right

Shoot first and don’t think twice

And homey if the price is right

Niggas’ll get at you

Bout who draw the fastest

Casket or the ashes

Yo it’s lovely when you squeezin them

Ugly when you receivin them

And ya peeps goin crazy in the receiving room

A gun like a lung you gon need more than one

This for every block in te ghetto from where I’m from

I started off a 9 or 10 runnin with my step-pop

Learn how to collect from niggas and set up shizzop

Never buy hard from him, I learned to cook rock

Summer time blizzock, winter time shizzop

Let a smoker rum 'em in

All they want is 3 for 10

Give up that password before you get the fuck in

'Fore we get the buckin

Leave 'em where they stand at

Respect we demand that

Now tell me where them grams at

Stack rubberband wrapped the street still in me

Got me a squadda with a driver, a souped up hemi

Be happy you in my presence I can’t give you a penny

Cause this nigga only tough when that shit’s up in em

Nigga

Yea ain’t nothin soft about me

But niggas they doubt me

So I’mma have to run through they alley

Get red off of they bount me

Toss the gun nigga I’m outtie

But nigga I’m rowdie

But common sense plays a bigger part of me

I’m Pookie when it comes to the Uzi

I just be callin me

(Mr. Brown) Not Bobby, Foxy, or Nino

It’s Pooda baby the Ruger baby’ll clean the scene though

Excuse me ladies don’t do it lately

But I’m doin my thing though

The crib 24 hours nigga the hook a seno

You lil nigga soft till that ' nana empty

And he not dead dot on his head like he a Indian

It’s trainin day nigga wake up early

For we be in ya crib burners wake up Shirley

Cabinets and the bed nigga check that thoroughly

I need that cooked up cookie homie

And that story

Whooo