Letra de 87 Cutlass - The Game

(Feat. Ray Vaughn)

When I exit the 110 at Compton, I start cocking shit

Halloween ain't shit when you stuck at the light with a Compton Crip

Niggas don't make it out

My grandma Lilly named me Game

But these two AK's ain't nothing to play about

I had a jumper and hoop dreams, but I couldn't wait it out

Rolled weed on my scholarship letters and took the paper route

Crips know where I stay, every other day, had to spray it out

Compton sheriffs hit the crib, I’m hiding in the neighbor's house

Moms kicked me out, had to move all my shit to David house

His moms told me pull my own weight, here, weigh it out

That water boil, take it out

Professor clumps in that mason jar

Look like I'm having a seizure when I shake it out

In the trap trying to focus, writing raps on the sofa

Thought the house was tapped

'Cause I can see antennas on the roaches

Niggas can't tell me nothing about being poor

Extendos on the phone cord

Pull that bitch from the kitchen to the front door

Seen one bullet put a nigga under

Seen a nigga survive a whole clip with staples from his ear to his stomach

My uncle got stabbed, fucked up a whole summer

My sister got shot in the ass, my nigga, she wasn't running

My life ain't a movie, it’s a series on Prime

I told Juan, "Feed me my own dick if I ever drop a dime"

If niggas owe me and still ain't pay me, it's never mind

It's like a Rollie on the ground, I ain't tripping over time

I ain't tripping on 50, all that shit I left behind

Ain't tripping on Interscope for that slave deal that I signed

I gave 'em five albums, it was nine

In the contract, told Berman, “Drop me or this fucking nine getting cocked back”

Been independent for ten summers, it’s like Ella Mai and Mustard

Big ass riding with me in his Hummer

Wish my nigga Vail could see me now

How you make it out of Compton and get murdered out of town?

They caught the homie slipping and ain't show him no remorse

So I walk 'round with that fire, like I'm carrying a torch

Been known to get it jumping since I hopped up off the porch

Pocket full of dead prezzies and a closet full of corpses (Hey)

Being broke, the only thing I looked at as a threat

Trials and tribulations, real and fake could never mesh

Only dotted line I ever signed was on a check

I gotta keep it on me, I got million-dollar flesh

I got the game plan

I got million-dollar views behind these Ray-Bans

They bought seats, but I'm someone that they can't stand

I'm so high above these clouds that I can't land, can't land

So please don't pray for me (Yeah)

And if I die before I wake, just save that space for me

But please don't pray for me

I done fucked a celebrity bitch for every dead homie I got

Flipped the truck off Ciroc, that shit worse than getting shot

Ain't die or get a DUI, my guardian angel Pac

He probably up there telling God, "If Chuck die, the world stop"

Not even a 20 year old Iron Mike Tyson punching my clock

Got Meek on a song after this, and he used to be my opp

But he called me on his first day out and we spoke about a lot

He said he love LA and with my blessings, he gon' buy a spot

I told him cop it by the beach, 'cause in the summer it get hot

If they can kill B.I.G., they can kill us like they did the nigga Pop

Don't trust niggas in my own state, cock it back

Play the rear view a few times before I open up my own gate

If I don't make it home safe, I told my oldest son, put C4 on that home safe

And spend it at your own pace

I'm 42, another 42, that’s gon' be home base

I'm in this shit for life, eyes are bright

I beat my own case

No matter which way the camera rotate, I choose my own fate

Pull the mask up, I ain't got COVID, I'll show my whole face

Drown all my demons and ask 'em "How this Patron taste?"

Pat me down at the club, and you gone feel that shit is on waist

It's on soon as Soulja Boy tell him to look the wrong way

50-round drums, slugs click in like a phone case

I put that on Dre, ain’t nobody gon' push me

I ain't scared of no nigga that was a baby when he came out the pussy

I bang, and I ain't never said I was T. Rogers or Tookie

But I'll shoot up a library before I let the feds book me

And this go for every nigga trapping from Columbia to Brooklyn

Put a brick in that boy face, the cartel can watch him cook it

Dig my daddy out the grave, ask that nigga where he took him

Cleveland National Forest, I hit targets without looking

So if I ever run into Pooh, nigga, I'ma finish the job

He did 25 for taking them Barkley's and killing Rob

They caught the homie slipping and ain't show him no remorse

So I walk 'round with that fire, like I'm carrying a torch

Been known to get it jumping since I hopped up off the porch

Pocket full of dead prezzies and a closet full of corpses (Hey)

Being broke, the only thing I looked at as a threat

Trials and tribulations, real and fake could never mesh

Only dotted line I ever signed was on a check

I gotta keep it on me, I got million-dollar flesh

I got the game plan

I got million-dollar views behind these Ray-Bans

They bought seats, but I'm someone that they can't stand

I'm so high above these clouds that I can't land, can't land

So please don't pray for me (Yeah)

And if I die before I wake, just save that space for me

But please don't pray for me

No, no, no

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