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Yesssssss! Ahahaha... I feel good, man! [Hook:] Life, pain Stress, Success You could fuck all these hoes till you count these chips No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living Life, pain Stress, Success You could mack all these broads till you count these chips No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living [Verse 1:] Float like a butterfly, no I ain't the greatest yet But God damn it I'm following his footsteps But big shoes to fill And big homie E told me just get 'em and make moves to kill And show no mercy, no hundred yards No rims, just fists, no mask, no jerseys Four corners with yellow ropes all around Referees in blue, who's next to go down Count 1, 2 and homie can't get up Somebody tore his shit up, his trainer's all fed up I'm better, I swear I train hard for this moment Letras de cancionesLife in the slums got me feeling dry when it's pouring yeah I water proof rain, I can't feel pain, I train hard so I'm solid like a steel frame I'm tryna go from Foot Locker To the next Mr. Michael Shoemacher, feel me! [Hook:] Life, pain Stress, Success You could fuck all these hoes till you count these chips No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living Life, pain Stress, Success You could mack all these broads till you count these chips No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living [Verse 2:] Life to the fullest, but this is round two Just, bob and weave and let it move around you, damn But naw fuck it, just go for the kill And punch straight through it, these niggas straight foolish Thinking life is amusing, party and bullshit Hoes, games, and liquor, a tough kid to figure, but I'm highly driven when it comes to bagging dinners I'd open up a store and let the public shop for me I'm through with sob stories, I'm chasing high glory High rise presidential, two nine stories Up 18 floors, but this is round seven Eleven foot reach, life's got me roped up but I Jab and hit, I move and stick Like what else you got for me you ain't proving shit I'm a regular dude, and I ain't moving bricks I ain't pulling tricks, just a bad motherfucker living [Hook:] Life, pain Stress, Success You could fuck all these hoes till you count these chips No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living Life, pain Stress, Success You could mack all these broads till you count these chips No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living [Verse 3:] It's the final countdown but I ain't Rocky Balboa I'm just a black nigga who the world doesn't know of I could open up doors, and free my people Or wait till the end where there is no sequel, huh And it's illegal for me to take jabs And not make something of myself perpetrating death Niggas walk around like lost souls But I'm a tough pro, I got a strike like Russ Crowe Jim Braddock himself, Joe Lewis living life foolish Naw I'm fighting for belts And I'm fighting for pride, this is 1988 Mike Tyson Ain't no way we could tie, yeah Like the ring indeed, in the streets we bleed Niggas die the same way as Apollo Creed, damn Too many shots to the head Difference is here, these ropes ain't red, holla! [Hook:] Life, pain Stress, Success You could fuck all these hoes till you count these chips No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living Life, pain Stress, Success You could mack all these broads till you count these chips No, the world wouldn't give a shit, big dog you living From Letras Mania