Eastside Moonwalker

[Verse 1] Lifestyles of the insane Eastside thug nigga, I'm the shit, you a shit stain I let the boxframe switch lanes Not a pretty nigga, but I got some game for a bitch brain And I lay it on so thick Charge it all to a broad, heard a pimp nigga quote this And I'm allergic to a broke bitch I think I need my medicine, I had to po' up 'fore I wrote this And doing dirty keep a nigga with a deep pocket Dope fiends and the cluckheads keep shopping Steady praying that the yayo keep locking Keep a strap cause the jackboys keep robbing Got me pulling up slow Whip another clip and put my pedal to the floor Slamming Cadillac doors, working wood like a pro Ass sit on nothing but that leather, whatcha know, how you living, nigga? Lifestyles of the insane Roll the kill, pop a pill, crack a seal, I resist pain Niggas looking for that big stain Dirt weed, dog food, fye kush, niggas flip 'caine Think I lost my religion Stepping on a pack, break 'em off in the kitchen Chevy topped off with the chrome in the engine Niggas gotta floss, that's the cost of this pimping, I'ma pull up slow [Hook] I'ma pull up slow Candy paint dripping from my Cadillac door I'ma pull up slow, I'ma pull up slow Run up with the mask, put them hoes on the floor I'ma pull up slow, I'mma pull up slow Run up with the mask, put them hoes on the floor I'ma pull up slow, I'ma pull up slow Candy paint dripping from my Cadillac door I'ma pull up slow [Verse 2] It's the muddy cup moonwalker, nightstalker Motherfucking white chalker, might've caught ya In the streets with your pants down Tell 'em call the paramedics, nigga man down, ease up If you thugging, get your Gs up And never fake, never fraud, never fold, never freeze up A black mask, black tee'd up The motherfucking dope game feed us, how you living, nigga? And rest in peace to my motherfucking homeboy But hold your tears, he ain't die, he just a fuckboy You might as well be a dead man in my eyes 2-2-3, sucker-free when I ride Freddie Kane, Freddie Corleone Selling things to the smokers in the mobile homes A pack of backwoods, dirty styrofoam, and a pocket full of stones And my Cadillac Brougham, I'ma pull up slow [Hook]