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d.i.t.c. - way of life (original) lyrics

[intro: fat joe]
diggin in the crates nine-nine, uh!
don carta bomb harder, what?
yeah, d-i-t-c now and forever, dun dun
what? what? what?
yeah, yo, yo, yo

[verse 1: fat joe]
there’s only one way for me to explain
the key to this game is longev, keep it the same
the seeds’ll remain, only if they bringin’ the pain
hip-hop won’t stop like the heat in my veins
the streets know my name, don carta bomb harder
my persona is honored in the bronx as my alma matter
i’m smarter than the average joe, packin a flow
that’s stackin the dough, bring the b-tch to the back and let’s go
fat joe, i’mma set ’em straight
if you do your hits. i exist from diggin in the crates
bringin in the eighths, i had to stay up late
playin’ the corners but never seen a day upstate
til the day i escape or see tone at the pearly gates
i continue to run sh-t even after the computer breaks
you know the rates, fifty-thou for every verse that’s foul
as i bring rhymes to life like the birth of a child

[hook: party arty & o.c.]
(it’s the way of life)
doin’ it big, movin’ with kids
the type of cats that put two in your wig
(it’s the way of life)
gettin’ the dough, spittin’ the flow
hittin’ the dro, sippin’ the mo’
(it’s the way of life)
c-ckin’ shines, c-ckin’ nines
plot ‘n grind, we want stocks and bonds
(it’s the way of life)
big honeys, quick money
playin’ gin rummy, ain’t sh-t funny

[verse 2: big l]
check it, my whole crew holdin
we all got rides with extra features
it’s a bunch of ya’ll, one got dough, the rest is leeches
you probably mad cuz i be s-xin’ divas
i should pull this pistol out and make you touch your sneakers
i’m on some cool out sh-t, but i will pull this tool out quick
and put some holes in your new outfit
you frontin’ hard cuz you whip a range
but it’s a 4.0, you nerd n-gga, you heard jigga now get your change
you ain’t a w-lly you a small soldier
give it up son, it’s all over
and you never sold a, pound of cane
you a clown with fame, goin’ down the drain
all yo’ sh-t sound the same
i’mma shine pop-o, cuz when you got dough your rocks glow
l got a hot flow, the rap coppo
i’m uptown’s smoothest, my first album left you clowns clueless
sayin i’m wack, you sound foolish
n-ggas hate to see l bubble, they’d rather see l struggle
cuz what they sell, i’mma sell double
you wanna see rocks, then look at l wrist
if you see me in the club drinkin mo’ that means they don’t sell cris, yeah

[hook: party arty & o.c.]
(yo it’s the way of life)
doin’ it big, movin’ with kids
the type of cats that put two in your wig
(it’s the way of life)
prayin’ to christ, rollin the dice
gettin’ twenty a show for just holdin’ the mic
(it’s the way of life)
movin’ with peeps, cruisin’ in jeeps
doin’ them beats, got you movin’ your feet
(it’s the way of life)
runnin’ the spots, duckin’ the cops
bustin’ the shots, floodin’ the watch

[verse 3: lord finesse]
i be that rap villain
goal in life: stack millions
used to be the frontman, now i play the back, chillin’
into cheddar. f-ck chasin’ pigeons, y’all know better
i keep a nice bird on my shoulder, like baretta
floss – hotter models, type n-gga you gotta follow
f-ck rocks, we into boulders like colorado
ready to start it
gon’ stay heavy regardless
i’m the baddest n-gga out since telly savalas
cat wit’ cheddar
making mad stacks forever
the mack, minus the cadillac, hat and feather
yap whatever
cats know better
i’m the rap director, tellin’ you n-ggas ‘get your act together’
and can’t – no man, decide my fate
i’m eatin’. sh-t, i see you tryin’ to hide the plate
the world is mine to take. see you after the girls
neighborhood n-gga, i’m known by like half o’ the world
keep sleepin’. ’cause you think i’m crusin’ the rear
f-ck around, i’ll have your spot like musical chairs
you see cats stay stressed, even at they best
over when the fat lady sing? that b-tch is half-way dressed

- d i t c lyrics

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