Lyrics
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 niggas 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
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 Niggas 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
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
The highlife — hah, hah
The highlife yeah
Chorus
