Songtext Nothing to live for but a lot to die from Buddha Monk

Nothing to live for but a lot to die from

[Intro: Juice (sample)]
Nothing to live for, but a lot to die from ("Killing is the way")
Nothing to live for, but a lot to die from ("That's what the future holds with me")
Nothing to live for, but a lot to die from ("Killing is the way")
Lot to die from, lot to die from, yo, yo

[Juice:]
Yo, at nine, my first time handcuffed
Six years later, my first puff, I thought my lungs would bust
An I'll ride, my thoughts gun hoping the day would go good
Four dollar ticket, done bought a couple miles for my hood
I'm reminiscing for myself, my clothes flooded with smoke
My blade left on the shelf, don't need the heat in my coat
Ever since they shot Prince, I look at shit through a new
Frame of mind, my time is running, hourglass in the Zu
I rhyme stories, categories, glory written in blood
Flows, covered like drugs, excite the brains of thugs
And insurance, stick to fast life, I'm busting the clutch
In the dark I'm like a flashlight, too bright to be touched
Mics holding, words chosen to pick them words from my seed
Forty five is me, the other five percent is from weed
I can't mourn, keep my hands on, triggers of life
Expand on, different plans, on to ripping the mic
I'm out of controller, or a blunt roller with pain
The devil's advocate, representing this game, to gain fame
Thugs blood in my vein, suprisingly I stay sane
Splurging to kill, my mind is still collecting from bail

[Chorus x2: Juice]
I got nothing to live for, but a lot to die from
Whether it's pussy cops or a live gun
I can walk the walk, but I decide to run
This is my life, my life

[Buddha Monk:]
On this world I shit, no holds barred
Yes, I test, I, the cap twisted to the left side
The life I live, shit you lucky that you breathing
And the badder it gets, I keep the nine to keep breathing
A lost soul, with right cause, to take gold
Right cause to break fool
And the Hennessey got me a little tipsy
So cover your knees, nigga, before I make you nipsy
Russell, check out my avenue, where gats flash at you
Smoke in the air, blood on your Pele suit
You got stress, try a nigga that got six kids
Where one did did it, with six women in it
No time to stand on the corner, singing this is for my homies
Blow me, real niggas that gat, and come with me
I live by the day to the day decisions
On who did me wrong, and whose worth lifted from my song
Yay I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
Fear death, why? When I'm just wearing a vest
And my daddy died, he didn't make no chumps
He put the gun in my hand said 'pump the pump-pump', decisions
Decisions...

[Lee-Major:]
Yo, I ran with the best, I made plans with the best
I know heads that slow G, and die with the rest
So big up your set, and hold your composure
So when five-oh come, you can blast them from over the shoulder
You know it's over when I start spitting them shots that fold ya
Even my sons know I don't mess with lame soldiers
It's BK style, the whole ave., foul
Slap ya DJ and tell him, play this, now
I make time stop - you lame crews
Acting like, I don't have perfect aim tools
So cock back and bust, we one and all
United we stand, divided we fall

[Chorus x2]