[The Game] Yo I'm hoping out a Phantom with a' iced out medallion Stallions on both arms, rocks on both charms My Dominican chick looking like Scarface sister Red and curly and she wake me up early Cus hustlers hit the block when police change shifts New York, California different toilet, same shit In Brooklyn I rock Timberlands Still toast cinnamon Been gangster way before he dropped many men Liquor in my system, voice raspy who I sound like? Don't ask me that's my nigga we classy Him and Montega Jada our style superior to haters You can catch me in the latest Marvin Gaters Ralph Lauren suit tape it up fly cause I'm papered up Why these niggas keep hating on my Phantom I be out in Atlanta and body tapping I'm probably strapped Toast it up niggas
[Chorus: Chrisette Michelle] All my hoods on the real dark side of the track No sunny sky's just really black We live real down here, Lord let us live No playing around here, Lord let us live Don't hate my hood just hate my shine We coming out we on our grind We live real down here, Lord let us live We coming outta here, Lord let us live
[The Game] Now who the fuck want war with the human gun store? Gangsta rap is where I live just knock on the front door Niggas stunt more than Jackie Chan What the fuck them faggots saying? Nothing when I walk in the club with the gat in hand Take 'em back to '94 shooing out a Astro van Banging was the blueprint money was the master plan Duffel bag full of Grants and Franklins Rob niggas take they money shoot straight to the bank then Head to the barbershop to get chopped up Hearing war stories who dead and who locked up Who snitching, who pitching and who knocked up Fuck niggas in Black Wall Street I trust Black hoodies and black Asics standing on the pavement Hustlers don't sleep nigga we work the grave shift Fuck that long money nigga get paid quick And don't save shit
[Chorus: Chrisette Michelle] All my hoods on the real dark side of the track No sunny sky's just really black We live real down here, Lord let us live No playing around here, Lord let us live Don't hate my hood just hate my shine We coming out we on our grind We live real down here, Lord let us live We coming outta here, Lord let us live
Lord knows that money don't matter Lord knows that status is badder Lord knows about the hood I live in He's taking away but he's giving Now don't give me these cars Don't give me these mansions Don't hate me just let me ride, Lord just give me light
[The Game] I don't hate Mobb Deep or M.O.P That was a phase I was caught up in the beef like a rat in a maze And my legacy will never be that of a hater Lyrical rhyme slayer wack niggas say your prayers It's the return of Gandhi Criminal minded city behind me Put it on my face to remind me Of all the shit I been through my physical presence, my pen too nice My first album sent you life I should of put down the mic when Rakim left Dre No cleanup hitter so I was stranded on second base I had to steal third motherfucker that's my word There's some Queens niggas try to put me back on the curb I was ultimate warrior to you bully ass niggas I will come through the hood with the fully axe niggas Like Snoop or Suge I'm in the coupe I'm good Mothafuckas make way
[Chorus: Chrisette Michelle] All my hoods on the real dark side of the track No sunny sky's just really black We live real down here, Lord let us live No playing around here, Lord let us live Don't hate my hood just hate my shine We coming out we on our grind We live real down here, Lord let us live We coming outta here, Lord let us live
[The Game] Is that Michelle Chrisette Black Wall, Coollie High, Scott Storch, let's ride '08 to infinity California, New York Scott Storch, Scott Storch...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
