Our Life

Lyrics

[Intro: Necro] Yo Don't make me flip on you Actually you can't make me do nothing I might decide to [Verse 1: Necro] I used to mush thugs, and now I push drugs I knew a kid that put slugs in his own mug Used to show me his guns Ain't a cat that knows me as son Remember violence at only one I used to watch how my pops would treat a girl And beef with the world He had a bone to pick That's why my dome is sick It rubbed off on me 'Cause the apple don't fall far from the tree, G You cats keep your distance 'Cause your scared, I might flip in an instant When I was filled with innocence I was still committing sins Half of you cats are sweet like cinnamon I shove a knife in your grin I run with convicts who stick up kids That'll rob you for six bucks, bitch We flip right before you expect it 'Cause we were neglected as children, now we're hectic We shot men and we rob gems I seen cats that used to clock me, now I clock them Got easier access to a Glock 10 In case, one in ya face is the only option [Chorus: ILL BILL] Necro and ILL BILL Walk around like murder, murder, kill, kill Gun up in your grill And you screaming 'Chill! Chill!' Didn't have your steel, now you get your cap peeled This is our life, our life [Verse 2: ILL BILL] Ayo, I grew up in the motherfucking projects My moms says if my pop left We would have to get a Section-8 apartment The rent's cheap, I see Decepticons at least Ten deep, run up on me flipping, wanna set beef That was some faggot shit, me and my brother Went for do-lo The only two white kids up in my projects that wasn't homo I fought every day, beefed with a hundred cats Way before I sold drugs and started busting caps Way before I bust my first nut, I loved to rap At 10 years old is when I first started to fuck with that Everyone else in my PJ's who'd rhyme was black I kept it to myself, continued to define my craft I used to buy my mother milk, dragging a spiked bat You fought with me, I was the type of cat to fight back I lace you with a broken nose, holding a ice pack Whites, blacks, Puerto Ricans, we was poor, it was wack My mom's tried her best I never graduated high school, I learned to pump drugs and pack nines instead Became one of those violent heads Have you on a respirator, even though the doctor know your mind is dead [Chorus: ILL BILL]