Two Step Lyrics - Have A Nice Life - Murs

I always knew life could be super short 

Ever since they busted out the super sport 

Brevity, levity, bitter I could never be 

Young for a nigga born in the late seventies 

Heavenly, my wife cause she loves me in spite 

Of all the crazy shit I be saying when we fight 

Shout a kite to my nigga locked up, now Reece home 

Making music for the kids, bitch we grown 

Put your phone down, look me in the eye 

Or you can talk that shit to another guy 

I swear to God I would kick you in the button fly 

And jump up and down on your skull 'til you fucking die 

Y'all probably want to dance so ignore me 

That club life ain't ever been for me 

You basic bitches just bore me 

If I got to buy you a drink you can't afford me 

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Gun shots on a good day 

No ski masks, that's the hood way 

Little kids wishing that they could play 

Looking for a hook or something Jay-Z would say 

I got two shots left in my .22 two step 

Two shots left in my .22 two step 

Two shots left in my .22 two step 

Two shots left in my .22 two step 

Deuce-deuce in my tennis shoe 

Hood nigga brought a burner to the interview 

Might catch a beef on the bus home 

Tell them gang-bang bullies get the fuck gone 

In my zone with a brand new playlist 

Walked right past my ex, didn't say shit 

Then I changed my mind like, "Ayye bitch!" 

"Tell your new boyfriend he can't fake this!" 

Spent my last check on some new kicks 

The rest at the movies on my new chick 

I got fired on some bullshit 

Snitch, fuck-boy that I never should've fooled with 

And I ain't ever wrote a résumé 

But I had my cousin make me one yesterday 

I need more hours and some better pay 

Back when I was hustling that was something I would never say 

Photos 

Ten toes down nineteen seventy-nine 

Southern California dummy repping heavy with mine 

These motherfucking actors are not odd to a factor 

Killer Reece [?] is a cold black bastard 

No master, no father, I raise me crazy 

A nigga clean it up, when I had a couple babies 

Well maybe, just maybe, you get the '08 me 

Fresh out the county feeling crazy 

No lizard, eight months feeling turnt, don't play me 

I used to be a mess my nigga 

Only thing could kill me was stress my nigga 

Had to give that shit a rest my nigga 

I just did a couple years, none left my nigga 

I can't do another stretch my nigga 

So it's either shut it down, or it's death my nigga