| See any angels in the city
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| See any angels in the city
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| See any angels in the city
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| Tell them mothafuckas I’m forever paid
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| California king, wrestle gators in the Everglades
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| Drive up out that mothafuckin' swamp in the Escalade
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| So before you put that red rag in your pocket
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| I wanna see your fuckin' résumé
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| Started off on Ground Zero, then I start to levitate
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| Rip rappers a new asshole — I never hesitate
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| Dre Beats on, smokin' that chronic just to meditate
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| I’ma give 'em hurricanes until another levee break
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| You niggas is featherweights, I’m Aftermath’s heavyweight
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| Now Dre’s weapon of mass destruction is 'bout to detonate
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| When a nigga Wack found me, shit, I was sellin' weight
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| Now a nigga’s sellin' millions, now it’s time to celebrate
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| Performin' in front of millions, nigga, every race
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| 64 in the '64, now watch the Chevy scrape
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| Fourth album, no five mics? |
| Then let 'em hate!
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| But I’m not stoppin' till I’m the fuckin' king in every state
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| Recognize my life, ridicule my fight
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| Give me fuel for the fire burnin' when I yearn these lights
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| In the midst of the hieroglyphs my fingertips start to write
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| Get familiar with Cartwright, ‘cause I want that shot
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| I’m a raging bull when the needle drops
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| For the record, I’ma wreck it, even if my record don’t pop
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| I’ma tie a knot on a downtown buildin'
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| Let it tow behind me, tell 'em they can find me
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| In the dark with the ghetto children
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| Look at my heart, nigga, fuck your feelings, this is me
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| I’m sick of mothafuckas talkin' about «the West died»
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| Can’t you hear my heart beatin'? |
| That’s the motherfuckin' Westside
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| You test me, you test God, I’m His son
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| It say in Psalms, you come at me
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| Then I can split you with this Tommy gun
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| You won’t have no time to run
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| I’m from the Compton slums, and that’s how the West ride
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| I’m from the city where two of the best died
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| Rest in peace to both of 'em, spit like I’m the ghost of 'em
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| Damn, I said I spit like I’m the ghost of 'em
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| Name your top 10, I’m harder than the most of 'em
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| Matter of fact, shorten your list, nigga, top 5
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| Game, Biggie, Hov… probably Pac, Nas
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| No particular order, bet a mill' that I slaughter
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| Serve niggas, give a fuck what you ordered
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| How dare you niggas pop fly, when I’m the nigga?
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| Sold 5 mill' out the gate, and numbers do not lie
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| Recognize my life, ridicule my fight
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| Give me fuel for the fire burnin' when I yearn these lights
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| In the midst of the hieroglyphs my fingertips start to write
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| Get familiar with Cartwright, ‘cause I want that shot
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| I’m a raging bull when the needle drops
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| For the record, I’ma wreck it, even if my record don’t pop
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| I’ma tie a knot on a downtown buildin'
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| Let it tow behind me, tell 'em they can find me
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| In the dark with the ghetto children
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| Look at my heart, nigga, fuck your feelings, this is me
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| I gave you The Documentary, shit was a classic
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| Gave you Doctor’s Advocate, you ripped it out the package
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| Came with LAX, since critics said it was average
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| I was stressed the fuck out, torn between Aftermath and
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| Geffen, Interscope, now I got you in the scope
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| Spill the red ink on the paper, it’s like my pen is broke
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| And this is what you all been waitin' for
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| I’m the lost angel knockin' on Satan’s door
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| What the fuck y’all take me for?
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| I love you ‘cause you hate me more
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| I’m Kobe on the Lakers floor, except I give you 84
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| Shake you like Haiti’s floor
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| Walk up on you, like, «What's goin' on, baby boy?»
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| Shots in that Mercedes door
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| Either I’m crazy or the black Slim Shady or
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| Could that be the reason that Baby said he would pay me more?
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| But I still owe Jimmy one more album
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| The best the West has ever seen, no disrespect to Calvin
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| Recognize my life, ridicule my fight
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| Give me fuel for the fire burnin' when I yearn these lights
|
| In the midst of the hieroglyphs my fingertips start to write
|
| Get familiar with Cartwright, ‘cause I want that shot
|
| I’m a raging bull when the needle drops
|
| For the record, I’ma wreck it, even if my record don’t pop
|
| I’ma tie a knot on a downtown buildin'
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| Let it tow behind me, tell 'em they can find me
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| In the dark with the ghetto children
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| Look at my heart, nigga, fuck your feelings, this is me |
| Kendrick, and I wear pendant on my shoulder
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| Soldier, like a lieutenant
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| And the coupe tinted, got pulled over
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| Johnny always lock a nigga down, knowin' damn well
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| We don’t wanna see the box like Manny Pacquiao
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| Little nigga Mayweather size
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| Ride like Pac in his prime; |
| Thug Life is now on radar
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| 'Til the federal come through and raid ours
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| Reminiscin' when the L.A. Raiders
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| Was in my home, snapback fitted on my uncle’s dome
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| And I don’t condone dickridin'
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| I’m addicted to Westsidin'
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| Livin' in a city where the skinny niggas die
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| And the semi bullets fly, but it turned me to a lion
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| Tryin'… and I mean that shit
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| Game came through, put the city on his back
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| I was in the city where a nigga hadn’t seen that shit
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| «Compton!» |
| — a nigga gotta scream that shit
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| Never went commercial, never TV-screened that shit
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| Can’t block or screen that shit
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| Now everybody sing that shit!
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| Red is a very emotionally and intense color. |
| It enhances human metabolism,
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| increases respiration rate, and raises blood pressure. |
| It has a very high
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| visibility, which is why stop signs, stop lights, and fire equipments are
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| usually painted red. |
| It also represents one third of California’s gang
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| population. |
| Needless to say, please dress accordingly while visiting the Los
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| Angeles area. |
| Also, tuck your jewellry, and keep your hands inside your vehicle.
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| Thank you! |
| Enjoy it! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The City , by - The Game. Song from the album The R.E.D. Album, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп