Dave East & Styles P – In The Jungle lyrics

[Intro: Styles P]
Let's get some money, [?]
East, what up?
Turn that shit up Poobs, ayy

[Verse 1: Styles P]
He's boujee as fuck, really not, he's dumb high
Uzi in a tux, put your rain on your girl doobie
I do be in a rush
Wearin' Gucci, eatin' vegan sushi movin' in the clutch
Fuck around and fill a Uber up with dust
Sell it to your hood and I got the shooter in the cut
Nah, go and get the law, we on that P shit
Make a toast, you are checkin' out that Ghost and East shit
Prayin' to the East, running from the West precinct
If I kill a man, does that make me less decent?
If I hurt a man, does that make me less lenient?
They could shoot first, they gon' send the next team in
They could hit the deck 'fore they send the next beam in
Got the pounds comin', yeah, we got the next green in
Got the new spot, you can send the next fiend in
This the Ghost, check out East, he's the next heathen

[Chorus: Tish Hyman]
Livin' in the jungle, everybody wants to be a lion
Yeah, but death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeah, death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeahhhh, money make these little niggas feel like giants
But death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeah, death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeahhhh-yeah, yeahhhhh

[Verse 2: Dave East]
If I don't know you, you gon' see how I react in the photo (facts)
In D-C with the package on me, meet me at the go-go
Hid the dimes in my drawers, the knicks look like NoDoz
Me and Pooch chop in the mornin', we really sew O's
If I'm the next heathen, I'ma make sure I'm the best breathin'
Forty on me, no jeans, it's sweat season
I know my past hoes, they regret leavin' (I know)
I couldda died in that crash, really regret speedin'
Ghost and Dave is complimented by no one, nigga
I be in the Bay just conversatin' with growers
All your favorite actresses love me, I really know 'em
Gym Star under that Gucci, I really blow 'em (on God)
Pause that, runnin' in buildins but not [?] that
Used to bein' text which phones before I call back
Twenty-nine, almost thirty, still got my flag on
I ain't dead or in jail so my momma could brag on me
Think I'm deliverin' mail, I got that bag on it
I already know they gon' tell, I got a mask on me
If you wanna new job, nigga, just ask homie
You a pump, I know your boss used to get packs from me
[?] pump ass niggas just want some pussy
Rollin' up cookie, watchin' movies about Tookie
If you lackin' the real, I'm what your life needs
Told my Cali shorty to meet me on thirty-ninth street

[Chorus: Tish Hyman]
Livin' in the jungle, everybody wants to be a lion
Yeah, but death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeah, death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeahhhh, money make these little niggas feel like giants
But death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeah, death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeahhhh-yeah, yeahhhhh

[Verse 3: Styles P]
The Ghost and the paranoid, playin' East shit
Cold-hearted nigga guaranteed to let the heat get
Tryna pray, got some shit to weigh and I'm leafless
If I shoot first, I ain't got to sweat the defense
Used to know the story, I ain't gotta set the pretense
Play the Hudson river, bring the chains and the cement
I'm a gangsta nigga, tell your bitch to suck the semen
We New York giants, I ain't talkin' 'bout the G-men

[Chorus: Tish Hyman]
Livin' in the jungle, everybody wants to be a lion
Yeah, but death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeah, death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeahhhh, money make these little niggas feel like giants
But death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeah, death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeahhhh-yeah, yeahhhhh

[Outro: Tish Hyman]
Yeah death will make you humble when you...
Yeah death will make you humble when you...
Yeahhh, money make these little niggas feel like giants
But death will make you humble when you dyin'
Death-death-death will make you humble when you dyin'
Yeahhhh-yeah, yeahhhhh