Luyện nghe bài hát G.a.m.e.

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[19 second instrumental to

[The
Live now, die later, or clock the shit out of haters
Got niggaz tryin to "Kiss the Goodbye" like Jada
Get your shit pushed like Jada's CD
I'll put your brains on Kenwood TV
So you can see hell in 3D, it's right dog
And the Game behind the is a nightmare dog
If it's pussy, I might share it dog, beef I'm here dog
I'm on the block, white Airs on
Gucci check, sweat, they wanna know
if on the truck, give me coochie yet
But I come through in the new GS with two, three
Got niggaz Shakin like the new G. Dep
Tryin to read my whole script, but seen the movie yet
Better have that glock stuffed
I'm comin with Young Noble, and we, gon', make, it
A block bust

[Chorus 2X: The
Getting American Easy, all I know
The Gangsta All Envy, all my dough
It's a coast knot, watch, let it bang out
Shots out, for all the gangsta hangouts

[The
Lace your tips, your gators, we like odds in Vegas
You ball? Then it's probably the haters
Can't breathe then it's the Desert, if you a gangsta or not
I give a fuck dog, is hot
And nigga gon' cry when he hit, the more pain
the blood drain, he ain't survivin shit
And your niggaz ain't gon' for shit, they know
if they came everybody in the X-5 is hit
Red rag or blue rag, niggaz die for
The Game the all these niggaz on that "Cali Love" shit
Compton niggaz get too, pull you out of that 6
Fuck you up like one do
And I dare y'all to on the 'Shaw, and King Boulevard
Comin hard, Doogie Howser bullets out your jaw
Turn your round trip a one-way ticket
You can visit, but you can not lie and it

[Young
Aiyyo, we left a on your block, you came with a cop
Pointin fingers at them niggaz, kept shit hot
Next to 'Pac, I'm the hottest thang out, we can bang out
air it out, box 'em in, square it out
Learn about your and we right there
Me and Game you left right there
N-O-B-L-E,
We bubble ease, and I double my cheese
I got niggaz out in Compton find yo' ass
I got niggaz out in Jersey, that'll yo' ass
for a long time if you fuckin with mine
It's a thin line dog the real and the fraud
We killin your squad, my still in the yard
You the type of motherfucker standin to the God
The is deep, you motherfuckers ain't the streets
Young and the homey Game flamin heat, c'mon