Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Game , by - Common. Release date: 31.12.2006
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Game |
| «It's only right that I address this…» |
| «Gotta be in it to win it…» |
| «I never come lame type killin in the game…» |
| «Now… get busy…» |
| «It's only right that I address this…» |
| «Gotta be in it to win it…» |
| «I never come lame type killin in the game…» |
| «Hot music…» |
| Raised by game where niggas ain’t phased by fame |
| Come to the crib, get banged, they take your chain. |
| Stay in your lane, Brokeback ain’t the way of the game |
| My brainstorm is like I stay in the rain |
| My favorite was Kane, now I’m dope with weight in the game |
| You was hot but can’t stay in the flame |
| Ghetto pain and windows crack, the fist is like a symbol for black |
| Can tell the real by how the real interact |
| In the middle of whack my soul sticks to a track |
| Kickback records get kicked to the back |
| I want big cribs and my man Ronnie to get his |
| Child in a good school and know what her gift is It’s global warming, the world is shifting |
| Watching Sweet Sixteen, Bitchin-ass rich kids |
| You don’t know it like you gotta go the distance |
| Whether yoga or doja, we all get lifted in the Game |
| I never kissed the ass of the masses, I’m the black molasses |
| Thick and I lasted past these rat bastards |
| They try to box me in like Cassius Clay |
| Hey I’m like Muhammad when he fasted |
| Opposing the fascist, make cuts and got gashes |
| Scratches over third eyelashes |
| Punchlines are like jab hits to rappers |
| Whose careers now ashes it’s too many slashes |
| In his name, came in the game these gun-clappers |
| From weak lines to clothing lines to an actress |
| I seen em dashing smash hits |
| I yell run nigga run while I cook up classics |
| The weak hearted, become Babylon puppets |
| Making it hard for real hustlas |
| Touch the sky now and then, with a lady friend |
| Give thanks to the most that’s how the day begins in the game. |
| I just wanna be like Akeelah, an achiever |
| from the streets of the Chi where some get high for leisure |
| Selling weed out of cleaners |
| From rocks to barber shops and beemers |
| Chicks with blond weaves and strong legs like Serena |
| The demeanor of the Ghetto, to never stay settled |
| Aldermen and corrupt men play Pharaoh |
| GOOD bring business to the hood like heralds |
| Find your own, walking by themself in the street |
| The young die of cancer, I stop eating meat |
| Greet the gods on 87th street like peace |
| Even though it’s war to G, got em facing the east |
| The game ain’t tasting as sweet |
| Cats flow is still, and they complacent with beats |
| My radio station is deep, so eff em Progression, counting paper and blessings in the game |