Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Work Hard , by - The Game. Song from the album West Coast Resurrection, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 03.02.2009
Record label: Get Low
Song language: English
Work Hard |
| Get Low Records motherfucker |
| Bringin the best to the table |
| Bluechip, Nina B,, what it is |
| JT Get Low motherfucker that’s what it is motherfucker |
| Yeah, who fuckin with us nigga |
| Now (what goes around comes around) |
| I’m puttin this clique up nigga against all you niggas |
| Now get it right |
| Hey yo, this is where I see me in this game |
| Benz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got your bitch all in the Range |
| And y’all niggas ain’t gon' do shit, soon as your crew spit |
| My tool spit, metal to your side, watch you lose hips |
| And I ain’t want to take it there but fuck it we can bang |
| My Cali headbusters’ll show you how to throw them things |
| I’m too connected like John Gotti and Nino |
| For a small fee they find your body wreakin out in Reno |
| I know the niggas that sell weight, and niggas that stick the niggas |
| That sell weight, hammer close behind me like when you tailgate |
| I know you a snitch, I can see it in your eyes |
| Shackled up, D.O.C.'s, all my niggas on that ride |
| You can, stunt if you wanna, Chip is a gunner |
| Been reignin since ninety-six now it’s time for the thunder |
| In your mind you can blame me but open your mouth and name me |
| I’m runnin you out of office you’re softer than Bush and Cheney |
| Go 'head, and try to play me I do you like I was Amy Fisher |
| Smokin a Swisher like I wish a bitch would |
| Listen and use your vision cause livin in this — hood |
| And sinnin in your division you think it’s all — good |
| Got niggas on death row and it ain’t about Suge |
| Niggas that stay home they scared to come out shook |
| Mothers with five kids and all of 'em got took |
| It’s right in these niggas face, but they just will not look |
| I’m tired, of the B.S. |
| I’m cheatin some rejects |
| Even though we make the best of what little respect, we get |
| This is the life, that was given to me |
| A rich-ass bitch that’s what I’m fittin to be |
| Brooklyn to Bangkok I’m beggin to be |
| And don’t nobody write, what I’m spittin but me |
| Nina B |
| We 'bout to blow this bitch |
| Niggas work hard in the game so they notice this, what |
| We 'bout to blow this bitch |
| Niggas work hard in the game so they notice this, what |
| Underground with it, poppin collars now |
| Bust yo' shit nigga, put them guns down |
| Put yo' knuckles up, catch you slippin dawg |
| That’s how we do it independent now we 'bout to ball |
| For years niggas sold me dreams that got me gassed |
| Made me want to get revenge or get the hockey mask |
| Got beef? |
| Yo the burner’s in the lobby stashed |
| Get your crew if you want, all them niggas is probably ass |
| I take the long way, fuck takin the shortcut |
| Now we got corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour bus |
| A quick 32, yo them shits is like warmups |
| It ain’t coincidental in the hood we was born tough |
| You chump or get chumped, punk or get punked |
| Save your lil' craps homey, fuck it get drunk |
| Was one at the top, but now I’m back at the bottom |
| Most 'em hate to spit with me cause when I rap I surprise 'em |
| Shit is real, that’s why I stay strapped with a condom |
| I keep 31 flavors just like Baskin & Robbins |
| I’m here now, y’all supposed to be stressed, scared to death |
| That you gonna be next, record labels, promote the rejects |
| While starvin artists is closest to sets |
| And certain niggas duckin me because they owe me a check |
| I spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y’all niggas know the deally |
| So turn the music up and roll a Philly |
| Yeah, roll the Philly or Swisher Sweet |
| And I ain’t trippin while you niggas just stand on your feet |
| Figgaro done walked in the building, it’s time to expand |
| Comin with hundreds of grands and hundreds of plans |
| You see this Black Wall Street is for the po' broke and hongry |
| None of my niggas on the corner never be lonely |
| Stuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like Tony |
| Bricks and pounds of weed half the city owe me |
| My shipment too big, frontin out the homies |
| I ain’t even trippin mayne my pockets never lonely |
| Benjamin Franklins and Grants stick together like |
| Boys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh |
| Yeah mayne, it’s real shit nigga and we independent nigga |
| Fuck what’chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at nigga |
| Fuck all your major labels nigga, that’s what it is |
| JT the Bigga Figga, Nina B |