Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Let Us Live , by - The Game. Release date: 31.12.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Let Us Live |
| Yo, I’m hopping 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 |
| Cause 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 tapered 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 |
| All my hoods on the real dark side of the track |
| No sunny skies, 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 |
| 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, shooting 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 |
| Ohh, all my hoods on the real dark side of the track |
| No sunny skies, 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 |
| Keeps taking away but he’s giving |
| Now don’t give me these cars (Lord let us live) |
| Don’t give me these mansions (Lord let us live) |
| Don’t hate me, just let me ride |
| Lord just give me light |
| 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 shoulda 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 |
| Then 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 AK’s niggas |
| Like Snoop or Suge, I’m in the coupe, I’m good |
| Mothafuckas make way |
| Ohh, all my hoods on the real dark side of the track |
| No sunny skies, 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 |
| Chrisette Michele, Cooshie |
| Black Wall, Coolie High |
| Scott Storch, let’s ride |
| '08 to infinity |
| California, New York |
| Scott Storch, Scott Storch |
| Scott Storch, Scott Storch, Scott Storch |