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Les paroles de What the Game Made Me
| | | Artiste: | Jay-Z |
| | Album: | Miscellaneous | | Titre: | What the Game Made Me | | | | Date d'ajout: | 18/10/2007 | | Vues: | 52 fois | | | | Paroles: | Yeah
Intro/Chorus: Jay-Z
I'm what the game made me
Not what the fame
made me
No amount of money can change me
I'm what you lames can't be
Live nigga what?
Live as fuck
(repeat 2X)
Verse One: Jay-Z
Check, live from the
7-1-8
Either respect the flow or learn your lesson from your weight
I'm wishin arthritis
on all writers who, Knock My Hustle
How can y'all understand the struggle?
It's hard to
live, when you got greedy niggaz in the mix
Knowin I outclass three-E niggaz in the six
So
I outblast til it's empty clips
And I outlast niggaz, survival of the fit
One life, I
gotta make sure it's done right
Cause them yet to have a conversation bout
reincarnation
Ball out, until I fall out
Stick thick chicks, try to tear they wall
out
Hard to think about your future with, nothin to gain
Hard to concentrate on school
with stomach pain
Life's harsh, I know y'all runnin from 'caine
but it'll only catch you
and track you down
With no deal, who you gonna rap to now?
Start your own record company,
that's profound
Live niggaz gonna rumble when you back from the war
Jive niggaz gonna
crumble and fall
Chorus
Verse Two: Memphis Bleek
Aiyyo whether
in the Pinto, or rollin in the six
I come through cocky, holdin my dick
I never switch
shit, cause that's some bitch shit
I get the Bisquick take it to the district
cause I
could never get rich, and switch my style
I just cop a little hurt, to the mercantile
I'm
tryin to get it though, rhymin with this six digit flow
Gettin fly is the minimal, holdin
somethin is the principal
Respect this young nigga that's, holdin the torch
Preachin shit
like the crack game, don't take shorts
Throw it down it's a bet, nigga roll hard
til you
got somethin icey, round your neck
In this concrete jungle get rich or remain humble
Never
speak the biz, at worst I might mumble
Niggaz test it I spit guns, angrily
Til all that
remains is me
Chorus (by Memphis Bleek instead of Jay-Z)
Verse Three:
Sauce Money
I went from no dough to show dough to money to blow
From umm, hoe I
don't know, to get deez
Never, "Excuse me miss," bitch please, never try to provoke
Same
disrespectful cat I was when I was broke
Ain't nuttin changed baby but the different faces I
stop
or maybe some of the places I shop
Now that I run through tracks like cleets with a
Air
for some of the hottest beats, still catch me eatin at Pete's
Fuck the foul cat who
screamed out and threatened my life
It's all good, here I come kid, dead to the hood
til
I'm in the dirt, foul cats like termites
come out of the woodworks, if they think you stack
paper
Dead niggaz react later while the cancer spread
Teach a team how to scheme before
they answer lead
You know me, I used to shoot hoops in the park, ain't nothin
changed
except now I push Coupe's in the dark
Chorus (Sauce Money instead of Jay-Z | | | |
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