The Game

[Chorus]

It's only right that I address this.

Gotta be in it to win it.

I never come lame type chillin in the game.

Now get busy

[Verse One]

Raised by game

Where niggas ain't fazed by fame.

Come to the crib, get banged, they take your chain.

Stay in your lane

Broke back ain't the way of the game.

My brainstorm is like I stay in the ring.

My favorite was Kane, now I'm dope with weight in the game

You was hot but can't stay in the rain.

Ghetto pain and windows crack.

The fist is like a symbol for black

Can tell the real by how the interact

In the middle of whack my soul stick to a track

Kickback records get kicked to the back

I want big cribs and my man Ronnie to get his

Child in a good school and know what her gift is

It's global warming, the world is shifting

Watching Sweet Sixteen, Bithin-ass rich kids

You know, I know I gotta go the distance

Whether yoga or doja, we all get lifted in the game.

[Chorus]

[Verse Two]

I never kissed that ass of the masters

I'm the black molasses

Thick and I last

Pass these rat bastards

They try to box me in like gaseous clay

Hey I'm like Muhammad when he fasted

Opposing the fascist

Got cuts and got gashes, scratches over third eyelashes

Punchlines are like jab pits to rappers

Whose careers now ashes

It's too many slashes in their name

Came in the game

From weak lines to clothing lines to an actress

I seen em dashing smash hits

I yell run nigga run

While I cook up classics

The weak hearted, become Babylon puppets

Making it hard for real hustlas

Touch the sky now and then, with a lady friend

Give thanks to the most that's how the day begins in the game.

[Chorus]

[Verse Three]

I just wanna be like Akeelah, an achiever

from the streets of the Chi where some get high for leisure

Selling weed out of cleaners

From rocks to barber shops and beamers

Chicks with blond weaves and strong legs like Serena

The demeanor of the Ghetto, to never stay settled

Aldermen and corrupt men play Pharaoh

Good bring business to the hood like heralds

Find your own, walking by themselves in the street

The young die of cancer

I stopped eating meat

Greet the gods on 87th street like peace

Even though it's , got em facing the east

The game ain't tasting as sweet

Cats flow is still, and his compliance with beats

My radio station is deep , so eff em

Progression, counting paper and blessings in the game

[Chorus]