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The Game
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Hard Times (feat. Lil Wayne)
The Game feat. Lil Wayne
They don't seem to want me but they won't admit I think I'm some kind of creature that they are Having fear of Hard times Theres no love to be found
I'm feeling like a black democrat Barack Obama, the only nigga that can catch Osama Spray lamas, get good head and fuck fly bitches with no covenant Only the kitchen oven in and rules to the government Ask the republicans how crack cocaine get smuggled in? Watch them throw they hands up and say it wasn't them As for rap, this is my lyrical asthma attack It's all I know, the guns, the cash, the dro Fidel Castro on my own right, Capone like Mafioso, Ben Franky on the low pro Drop top Bentley, chromed out semi Two grand in popular demand like the first pennies My Audemars Piguet wrist say it's time to dethrone Jay quick Tell 'em other niggas to take six Coupe a buck fifty, what's coming out the speakers? Got every video bitch scared to fuck with me
Having hard times There's no love to be found Having hard times There no love to be found
Shit gangster to the core Ain't no rap flame paint your kitchen floor What you, you can't ignore Things you endure went up against the board All I heard was easy don't fill me no more 更多更详尽歌词 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔镜歌词网 I hear your bullshit, I play matador I'm outta category I ain't there with you I got a positive vibe, but I ain't scared of ya'll Hit the kid nigga dip, never that at all Then red attack the wall, that black-ack-ack-ack-ack I got a girl so fine her name Perignon She know how to get them things in her carry on I blow outta town Grants when I'm outta town Uptown in the building how that sounds Cause killas don't get heard about They get whispered about and you get murdered out, boy
You got it on your mind look daddy say something All that play buckin' get your face buttoned up And now when you smirk you look like Jay Z's shirt Steppin' on the turf
Give 'em hard dick and tampons A shot of Patron and Don The ones trained get ran on, my crew hard Louis V sweaters on the boulevard Pull niggas cars throw up signs and bang Nas
They call me J.R. I tell 'em come holla I tell my poppa put away your dollars, your son got choppers And if you got enemy's, your son got enemies, that uptown energy
Niggas ain't gon' never be on my level Get a shovel, dig a hole Bitch and poly with he devil you or I, quiet hustler I'm a 80's baby for real born in '79 and bread to kill
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