Life Of A Drug Dealer Lyrics

There's a rumor that an old lady heard a Kingpin hiring a hitman to murder A federal prosecuting drug-dealing witness But that's how it is in the business And I'm in it, physically gaining power Constantly counting up cash by the hour And it feels good to be paid Regardless of how many victims get slayed Accomplices of mine drop like flies But in this everyday a homeboy dies Whether shot in the body or cyanide in ya Bacardi 'Cause it's a cutthroat party Now it's up to me to retaliate And if I score, I'll increase the murder rate I move on ones who double-cross Set them up, now they suffer the loss Of he or she who's ever on the agenda Most likely a family member Informants, rattle-tattle-telling snakes Get shot up, brutalized and thrown in lakes The parts of a body is found days later The other half was done by an amputator I'm undefeated in plenty fights My enemies are beaten with many stripes I'll shoot up funerals, firebomb wakes Vehicular homicides, whatever it takes Just to keep control of my empire I'll set ya own mother on fire 'Cause when it comes down just to me and my money Ain't a fucking thing funny All those who pose a threat I'll stick them Ya friends, ya family and innocent victims Get caught in the midst when I'm busting of nines But they was in the wrong place, the wrong time Decapitated bodies found in lots While I'm still cooking up kilos in pots The kilos becomes bricks and the bricks becomes rocks Then retailed on the blocks I drive around in expensive cars And get women who fuck like porno stars I get them high, you know, like powder they nose Then put 'em in the streets as my high-class hoes I'm wild, living foul and I'm ruthless I leave muthafuckers toothless I had a worker who stepped on the scene lively Then started selling my customers Ivory Soap, counterfeit vials of cracks I stuck 'em to death with a thousand thumbtacks You've seen my resume, that's just the half I'm a bad muthafucker, just like Shaft A character played by who? Richard Roundtree The only difference, my guns are sound-free Silencers ring off then wisp by Then all you hear is a last minute cry Of those who triedto control my territory Not the West Side but the Bed-Stuy story Police be giving me eye-to-eye contact But I smile 'cause I'm putting out contracts Now a G-note is placed upon ya head You say picture that alright, bang ya dead This is the life of a drug dealer