Count me in, though.
What up,
Amsterdam, bro?
Hi.
Aw, shit.
Bro, I love that beat.
That shit make a motherfucker fuck.
I just wanna know, what is it to be an
Amster
City life.
Motherfuckin' smoke.
This is not a game.
Show ain't a joke.
Hoes shakin' hips for
Frost
Jack cheese.
And
Mr.
Jack'll make your ass back three.
For y 'all that don't know,
Frosty
Jack means dope.
And even more specific,
rock cult, for city life
We all play a scheme, swift with the tongue,
quick to tell a dream
Layin' with the caddies, yo,
niggas draped in gold
Bitches sell they soul,
and now they owned
By the devil, a gangster in the ghetto
Sellin' fast tickets one way to hell
And that's a fact, livin' under
Satan's attack
Oh my, I hope you ain't black
Cause brother's gettin' dusted,
police ain't trustin'
Keep an innocent guinea
pig as a suspect
City life, where fools fuck jailbait
And when they cop,
they known as a rape
Odd, plucking young cherries
like a charge
Everyday swing ain't nothing but a part
Pop pop goes a gunshot on the block
The next is the sound of a
bomb being dropped
Wait a minute, shit,
starting is a ride
Creeping real slow, niggas fixed to die
A sign that was prophesied
for the last days
Looks like the motherfuckin'
city's enraged
Boulevards, avenues, big city blocks
All blocked off by the
motherfuckin' cops
Damn, hell, the sound of the
government tanks
Stormin' through the city,
postin' up in ranks
What's goin' down with
the city?
Somethin' ain't right,
I don't think you feel
Aw shit, city life
The last livin' out
You know what I'm saying, so don't check because we all being motived,