V.I.C.E.S. - Da$h

Ask me what my life is

Tell them bitches: «bitch my life is 'bout them vices» yeah

Said they ask me what my life is

I tell them bitches: «bitch my life is 'bout them vices» yeah

Yeah… yeah…

Yeah

Posted wit the homies, smoking dope blunts (dope blunts)

Soda in my hand, you know its poured up (poured up)

Function got bracking when we showed up (showed up)

This my shit, nigga tell the DJ hold up (hold up)

Bitch I’m D-A-DOLLA, coming from the 201

With my son, please don’t start the drama

Heard he got a gun and bitches run

When they see me in the spot, burning pot

No I’m what you’re not

I pour fo’s in a yola colored drop, Dolla

Daddy grab grass, throat burn from that Cognac

Red bone and her ass fat, got a backwood of that thrax pack

Said I made it here, I ain’t going back

Getting paid off of fucking rap

Said I made it here, I ain’t going back

Getting paid off of fucking rap

And I ride with my niggas

Go hit the lick and get high with my niggas

Worse come to worse then I die with my niggas

Shit, see thats the rules, know how I do

Eighth Letter Crew, look where we rule

You niggas food, we making moves, act like you knew, shit

And them hoes is steady asking what my life is

I tell them bitches «bitch my life about them vices nigga»

And them hoes is steady asking what my life is

I tell them bitches «bitch my life about them vices» yeah

And now I’m driving drunk, the women say I’m tripping

All of them bars I took is fucking with my vision

PCH in front the steering wheel I’m gripping

The only thing that’s on my mind

I hope the boys don’t catch me slipping yikes

Three of them think they straight

Other two, I think they dikes

Prolly only know 'em for the night

Couple weeks if I do fuck 'em right

Never die, just like my name is Christ

Swear to god I love my fucking life

Wrote me a kite and then I sent it to Maverick

He wrote me back and told me «let these niggas have it»

Raps turn into cabbage

Tabs under my tongue sent me on trips without the baggage

Psychedelic savage, doing damage

Jacket from a rhino, still fuck the five’o

Driving still, eyes low

Minds moving fast but I rhyme slow

Push the motto, dead the bottle… Hz nigga