The Game Let Us Live текст песни, слова песни Let Us Live The Game & Chrisette Michele - тексты песен на любой вкус

The Game - Let Us Live

feat. Chrisette Michele

Scott Storch

[Verse 1: The Game]
Yo I'm hoping out a phantom
With an iced out medallion
Stallions on both arms
Rocs 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 timbalands
Steel toes cinammon
Been gangsta 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
And that mind take a jeta
I style superior
The haters you can catch me in the latest murry gators
Ralph lauren suit tape it up
Fly cause I'm papered up
Why these niggas keep hatin on my phantom
I be out in Atlanta and body tapping
I'm probably strapped
Toast it up Niggas

[Chorus: Chrisette Michele]
My hoods on a real dark side of the track
No sunny skies just really black
We get real down here
Lord Let Us Live
No playing round here
Lord Let Us Live
Don't hate my hood just hate my shine
We coming out we on our grind
We get real down here
Lord Let Us Live
We coming out here
Lord Let Us Live

[Verse 2: The Game]
Now who the fuck want war with the human gun store
Gansta rap is why I live just knock on the front door
Nigga stunt more than Jackie Chan
What the fuck them faggits saying
Nothing when I walk in the club with the gat in hand
Take them back to 94'
Shooting out a astrovan
Banging was the blue print
Money was the master plan
Duffle bag full of grants and franklins
Rob niggas take they money shoot straight to the bank than
Head to the barbershop to get chopped up
Hearing war stories who dead and who locked up
Who snitchin who pitching and who knocked up
Fuck niggas in Black Wall Street I trust
Black hoodies and black aces standing on the pavement
Hustlers don't sleep nigga we work the graveshift
Fuck that long money nigga get paid quick
And don't save shit


[Hook: Chrisette Michele]
Lord know that money don't matter
Lord knows that status is badder
Lord knows bout the hood I live in
He keeps taking away but he's giving
Don't give me these cars
Don't give me these mansions
Don't hate me just let me ride
Lord just give me life

[Verse 3: The Game]
I don't hate Mobb Deep or
M.O.P. that was a phase
I was caught up in a beef like a rat in the maze
And my legacy will never be that of a hater
Lyrical rhyme slayer
Whack niggas say a prayers
It's the return on gandi
Criminal mind the city behind me
Put on my face to remind me
Of all the shit I've been through
My physical presence
My pain through nights
My 1st album sent you light
I should of put down the mic when Rakim left Dre
No clean up hitter so I was stranded on 2nd base
I had to steal 3rd motherfucker that's my word
That some queen 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 axe niggas
Like snoop or suge
I'm In the Coupe I'm good
Motherfuckers make way


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