[Cormega] Yo, I live the life of '62 pick-ups Pumpin' on corners, beat downs to stick-ups Seein' events, of which I had to stay silent Murder, extortion, and all types of violence Kids, livin' the life of ghetto heavens Sellin' cracks, ready to attack with knives and mac-11's Havin' dreams of being big bosses Driving porsches, by the time, they get rich, they corpses Son, it's a shame, but in this game The strong survive, either get live or get slain Cuz in the ghetto, respect is mandatory Drug wars ignitin', mad fightin' for territory My niggaz, steppin' with automatic weapons Stick up kids, with .357's Yo, it's violence, I know old timers move silent But nowadays, niggaz be wildin' Drug dealers stylin', with 5-series Beamers It deep the way, sunny day, don't seem to reach us Forty-five under the seat of a Lexus Thugs rollin' with bulletproof hats and vestes Earnin' ya props off big dime rocks Your man shorty rock is on the block with a glock He just got knocked, now he's out on bail For semi automatic, and a undercover sale Trained mercenary, with a heart that's cold Pushin' an Acura, at 17 years old In the passenger seat, and he's smokin' a blunt With some shine on, any live nigga would want Somebody wasn't up on and you know what they want Tellin' shorty, run the jewels and don't try to front Shorty reaches for the nine, but before he could shoot Blood scattered in the '92 Acura coupe Another victim of modern day stick-ups This is the life of '62 pick-ups
