| It’s a trap, it’s a trap
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| Why they ain’t tell us red and blue don’t matter when you black?
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| Matter of fact we in blindfolds, bunch of lost souls
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| Kids shot dead in the streets, now they eyes closed
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| How you call the angels when it’s kings getting beat up?
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| And Gil Garcetti in his office with his feet up
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| No way to dodge police brutality
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| Sellin' crack cocaine, makin' a teacher’s salary
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| Mexicans hoppin' the borders in the thousands
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| Become cholos, one button Pendletons, they stylin'
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| Crips on the corner in Dodger blue with they gold chains
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| Bloods sportin' corn rows and Chucks with the red strings
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| Sun goin' down so them Chevys 'bout to roll out
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| Fiends scratchin' themselves, stumblin' out the dope house
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| Niggas tyin' bandanas, 'bout to put the drum on
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| Kids tryna make it home 'fore street lights come on
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| The way we live is savage
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| The way we live is savage
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| The way we live is savage
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| The way we live is savage
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| So grab that gun, load that clip
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| Grab that torch, light that shit, grab that stick
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| Grab that brick, throw it. |
| it’s time to riot
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| If you don’t see black owned in the window, it’s on fire
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| Start here, end up over there
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| The smell of gun powder in the air
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| And just so we clear, this is pain and despair
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| We burn our own shit and we aware and don’t care
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| Tell the national guards to disappear
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| We got guns too and we ain’t scared
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| So fuck the man, fuck the President Bush and his legislation
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| Shit gotta change, we ain’t waitin', fuck patience
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| 'Cause the government corrupt, I can prove it
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| Martin, Malcolm, Huey P. Newton
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| And that’s why the whole city out here lootin'
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| How can we stand here and not do shit?
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| All this smoke over the hood lookin' like low clouds
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| Cars with no miles on fire, they broke down
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| White people wishin' that they was at home
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| Asians frontin' like they business is Black-owned
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| Far from stupid, we comin' in the stores trippin'
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| Runnin' in swap meets for they Jordans and they Pippins
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| Crowbars, bats, anythin' that break glass
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| They fucked Rodney King up and now it’s they ass
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| So it’s bottle rockets through the window
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| Kids that was never smokin' endo
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| Fiends kickin' in doors, stealin' Nintendos
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| Niggas robbin' liquor stores with taped up «Duck Hunt» guns
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| City burnin' but it’s fucked up fun
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| National Guard’s on the corner
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| They don’t know the hood, they foreigners
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| We was bustin' at the cops before Chris Dorner
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| Ghetto birds flyin' over the hood, they see us
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| Showin' the fuck out, cleanin' the trucks out
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| Niggas mobbin' down the streets pushin' big screens and baskets
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| Starin' straight into the cameras, no ski mask
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| Just pandemonium, niggas lootin' what they homies in
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| Runnin' around with Scarface guns like they was Tony and them
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| Who, what, where, when, how the fuck they gon' stop us?
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| When the last 50 years we accustomed to window shoppin'
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| So we takin' lighters to the tip of magazines
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| Dip 'em in gasoline and set this motherfucker on (fire)
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| The whole world watchin', Los Angeles is on (Fire)
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| Yeah, yeah (Fire)
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| 1992, was you here for the (Fire?)
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| Uh-huh
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| Standin' on the corner with a brick in my hand
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| When my mother told me sit in the van, nah fuck that
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| Foot Locker chained up, wire cutters cut that
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| Niggas Crip walkin' where Reginald Denny’s truck at
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| Police cars, drivin' by niggas in slow mo
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| If you white don’t stop at the light, 'cause that’s a no-no
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| Runnin' through the malls, give us everything Polo
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| The first time niggas ain’t have beef with the cholos
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| '92, fire lit the skyline, and why we loot?
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| To capture that forbidden truth 'cause Adam never ate the fruit
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| Fuck your blue suits, your badge, and them high beams
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| We out here sellin' chronic, we ain’t have no Jimmy Iovines
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| Shit burnin', you gon' need more than Visine
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| We makin' a movie better than any one that I’ve seen
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| Should be on Showtime, HBO, Cinemax
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| Get a match, we gon' make sure that y’all remember that (Fire)
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| The whole world watchin', Los Angeles is on (Fire)
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| Yeah, yeah (Fire)
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| 1992, was you here for the (Fire?)
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| Uh-huh
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| Make me wanna holla
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| The way they do my life
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| Make me wanna holla
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| The way they do my life
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| This ain’t living, this ain’t living
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| No-no baby, this ain’t living
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| No, no, no, no
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| Inflation, no chance
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| To increase |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Savage Lifestyle , by - The Game. Song from the album 1992, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп