Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Games Real , by - Ice T. Song from the album Gangsta Rap, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 30.01.2020
Record label: Final Level, Pay Up
Song language: English
The Games Real |
| Enough time has passed, false prophets steering you wrong |
| You won’t appreciate my wisdom, 'til I’m dead and I’m gone |
| Underground dead from combat |
| Laid down on the floor. |
| in some club |
| Girls scream at the ocean of blood |
| No use to call the paramedics, to hit me with the fifth energetic |
| Close range, cut in the base of my brain |
| Blew my face on through some bitch’s head, before I hit the ground |
| Some nigga touched me in the chest, and blew it out with the pound |
| My niggaz didn’t have chance to move, they used silenced weaponry |
| Couldn’t hear the sound, as the club bass bound |
| All you heard was. |
| Yo, Ice is on the ground |
| The assassins, when they heard this up, stepped back and mixed in with the crowd |
| Gloom broke into hysteria, spot went wild |
| A lot of bitches yelling and crying, while fake niggaz smile |
| I heard voices of my loved ones said I leave the party |
| God kisses my face as I leave my body |
| Yo, I wanna see what the fuck’s happening! |
| Yo, yo, back off my man, man! |
| Awww shit! |
| y’all |
| The game is real, anyone can get touched up |
| Get moved on, left in a plunger blood |
| No matter how gangster you are, how deep your crew |
| Niggaz can get you if they want to |
| Yo. |
| yo. |
| yo. |
| attack mode |
| Look, listen, it’s the general. |
| code |
| Gully and gutter, I roll with some box cutters |
| I’m bringing. |
| fucking Jersey City niggaz |
| We got. |
| tons of triggers, for tons of niggaz |
| We walk and talk a lot, we run some niggaz |
| No glitter and glades, it’s guns and niggaz |
| Nightclubs or your social clubs |
| Backstage with your membrane, on the side of your freeway |
| It’s ugly, the bomb squashed blonde bitch for our shit |
| It’s M-16s switch off clips |
| Bullets ripped fleshy death right through your kids |
| Except your bids, except all that shit you did |
| Uhh. |
| you can’t hide in the town houses |
| When two niggaz are nine-ing like two ounces |
| Scarface Colombia, Walker Tah’s style surrounding, your white bitches out |
| Now, if you faggots got some questions about how real this is |
| A straight Strong-Arm, half of you niggaz in the biz' |
| Your bodyguard, bitch made, motherfucking fake ass whores |
| Can’t even roll for dolo, walk through your own hood solo |
| Niggaz push up and change-snatch your logo |
| The truth is. |
| no homeboys are brought through |
| Your own crew is destorying you |
| So now you’re carrying guns, you know, you won’t shoot |
| You copped a new whip, had to get a bulletproof |
| You wanted to be Rap-Star, now, you’re too shook to move |
| Cause the streets say the words, you kid gotta prove |
| Living a lie, you might die, in this game of hot caption whores |
| Check your rearview you’re being followed |
| Eat the dick, if it be. |
| we gonna shoot from a block away |
| We keep with heat, and turn your face into a plot to play |
| Yeah, we spray out your feet and watch you burn in a flock away |
| Nerd, niggaz stop and pray |
| Heard, they can’t drop the lay |
| We come out, run out, one route to Dun-house |
| We’re about to blow his wig off «yeah yeah» |
| Nigga we jump out, pump out, dump out |
| Infront of the Dun house with the sun-hounds |
| Shit to peel off and I’m. |
| running the trot like crooked cops |
| Taking capes, pushing weight, while I shipped this back |
| From California to the. |
| Hill Tah, Comille fitting dots |
| Activille for them bills and he’ll get drop |
| Look I. show guys and buyers we’re not kidding |
| I know the size, brothers stick-bys, when we start spitting |
| They go beside rocks and dodge with guns ticking |
| But it’s devilish regardless the art is squash business |