Tekst piosenki 'Life In The City' wykonawcy Slaughterhouse

Life in the city is not very pretty
It seems like it's a waste of your time
Trojans cause the lifestyles bust faster
No font on no backwood, just dutchmaster
Fifth of henn, a radio on funkmaster
I don’t come from a wack hood with a dutch factor
Ten speed in a black hood, that’s a gun clapper
We chop fair ones ‘till someone dropped of lung asthma
Before this I lived a lifestyle like "fuck rappers"

A buck trapper up after dark with the cut cracker
Tucked up under the tongue, who want a buck half of
That’s a smiley face on your cheek, stitch ‘em up laughter
I snuffed son ‘cause he walked through with a rough hatter
Came in the store and stepped on my timbs and made ‘em scuff faster
These niggas ain’t ‘bout that life, bunch of young actors

Play the right part when you see me, say "what up scrapper?"
See you ain’t got to like me but you will respect me
Everytime you say you the nicest, boy, you indirect me
Jesus christ I’m a crisis, you a sip of pepsi
Little buds, little suds at the tip of a nestle
I toot my own horn, I’m dizzy gillespie
And I reps my city correctly (yaowa)
Life in the city is not very pretty
It seems like it's a waste of your time

One-two, my project gritty, extra far from pretty
Staircase sloppy pissy and the lobby tipsy
And I keep a barbie with me lookin good
My niggaz can't leave the country
I bring the country to the hood (let's go!)
My real name my rap shit, I ain't make-believe (joell)
Same nigga who got this break'll still break your knees (uh-huh)
I'm still playin cee-lo and the bank is cheese
Eight g's I fold better, feel that vegas breeze?
Product of the gutter, no father, just a mother

Know you runnin but run farther
When you hear me say "word to my mother"
(Word to my mother!)
Your boy is extra thorough, ask my borough
When I'm in brooklyn they go nuts
You little squirrels can't buy a referral

These niggaz won't cause they can't so they don't copy (nope!)
Bitches with they best friend be yellin "go papi!" (yeah)
Y'all niggaz got these freshmen feelin so cocky
But it's just a bunch of yes-men, and a no-body (ha ha!)
Just cause you write rhymes don't mean you rhyme right
You a light-high, don't jump and become a highlight
Lose sight of your hind legs and live in hindsight
Cause you niggaz aight, but y'all ain't quite like (yaowa)
Life in the city is not very pretty
It seems like it's a waste of your time