Street Life AZ (Ft. Begetz & Half A Mill)
"Street Life" by AZ (Ft. Begetz & Half A Mill), released in 1999, is a #HipHop track that explores the struggles and realities of urban life, highlighting themes of survival, ambition, and the challenges of street culture. The song features intricate wordplay and smooth production, reflecting the gritty yet aspirational nature of the streets. Its impact resonates in the hip-hop community, showcasing the raw narratives of street experiences.
[Intro: AZ]
Yea Devine Intervention
Miliato, Begetz, AZ
Quiet Money Presents
[Verse 1: Half-A-Mil]
Now the twin towers done blew up
Niggas seen the footage and threw up
I got platinum bullets for y'all to chew up
Mil-latin the dog done grew up
Is it still Manhatten, I speak street slang arab-a-latin
My gunz speak rat-a-ta-in, understand my lingo
I'm from Albany Afganistan
Fuck Chris Cringo and Christopher Columbus
I'll shoot scud missles through his kango and spray Z-gas
On ya faggot ass, Allahu Akbar, make 767's crash
Smack Jesus Christ and smoke a half a pound of hash
I keep a half a pound of cash, I thought I told you cats
I'm not a rapper, rock a G on my chest that stands for God
Fuck Dan, I'm dapper, prada from head to toe
Dollars, cherries in the moe, you fake ass pimps, get my chips
So I'm burying you and your hoes
I plant plutonium bombs after each and every show
So every artist you sign is guaranteed to blow
I'm guaranteed to flow, puffing that magic weed
Knowledge itself, nigga, that's what you need
So fuck you and those crabs that you feed, tell 'em holla at me
Yea Devine Intervention
Miliato, Begetz, AZ
Quiet Money Presents
[Verse 1: Half-A-Mil]
Now the twin towers done blew up
Niggas seen the footage and threw up
I got platinum bullets for y'all to chew up
Mil-latin the dog done grew up
Is it still Manhatten, I speak street slang arab-a-latin
My gunz speak rat-a-ta-in, understand my lingo
I'm from Albany Afganistan
Fuck Chris Cringo and Christopher Columbus
I'll shoot scud missles through his kango and spray Z-gas
On ya faggot ass, Allahu Akbar, make 767's crash
Smack Jesus Christ and smoke a half a pound of hash
I keep a half a pound of cash, I thought I told you cats
I'm not a rapper, rock a G on my chest that stands for God
Fuck Dan, I'm dapper, prada from head to toe
Dollars, cherries in the moe, you fake ass pimps, get my chips
So I'm burying you and your hoes
I plant plutonium bombs after each and every show
So every artist you sign is guaranteed to blow
I'm guaranteed to flow, puffing that magic weed
Knowledge itself, nigga, that's what you need
So fuck you and those crabs that you feed, tell 'em holla at me
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