[Cormega]

Yo, I live the life of '62 pick-ups

Pumpin' on corners, beat downs to stick-ups

Seein' events, of which I had to stay silent

Murder, extortion, and all types of violence

Kids, livin' the life of ghetto heavens

Sellin' cracks, ready to attack with knives and mac-11's

Havin' dreams of being big bosses

Driving porsches, by the time, they get rich, they corpses

Son, it's a shame, but in this game

The strong survive, either get live or get slain

Cuz in the ghetto, respect is mandatory

Drug wars ignitin', mad fightin' for territory

My niggaz, steppin' with automatic weapons

Stick up kids, with .357's

Yo, it's violence, I know old timers move silent

But nowadays, niggaz be wildin'

Drug dealers stylin', with 5-series Beamers

It deep the way, sunny day, don't seem to reach us

Forty-five under the seat of a Lexus

Thugs rollin' with bulletproof hats and vestes

Earnin' ya props off big dime rocks

Your man shorty rock is on the block with a glock

He just got knocked, now he's out on bail

For semi automatic, and a undercover sale

Trained mercenary, with a heart that's cold

Pushin' an Acura, at 17 years old

In the passenger seat, and he's smokin' a blunt

With some shine on, any live nigga would want

Somebody wasn't up on and you know what they want

Tellin' shorty, run the jewels and don't try to front

Shorty reaches for the nine, but before he could shoot

Blood scattered in the '92 Acura coupe

Another victim of modern day stick-ups

This is the life of '62 pick-ups