Luyện nghe bài hát G.a.m.e.

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[19 instrumental to open]

[The
Live now, die later, flood or the shit out of haters
Got niggaz tryin to "Kiss the Game Goodbye" Jada
Get your shit pushed back Jada's CD
put your brains on that Kenwood TV
So you can see hell in 3D, it's right dog
And the Game behind the Desert is a dog
If it's pussy, I might share it dog, I'm right here dog
I'm on the block, Nike Airs on
Gucci check, sweat, they wanna know
if 22's on the truck, me coochie yet
But I through in the new GS with two, three tecs
Got Harlem Shakin like the new G. Dep
Tryin to read my script, but ain't seen the movie yet
Better have that glock stuffed
I'm through with Young Noble, and we, gon', make, it
A block tonight

[Chorus 2X: The
Getting Money Easy, all I know
The Gangsta All Motherfuckers Envy, all my
It's a West coast knot, watch, let it out
Shots range out, for all the hangouts

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

[Young
Aiyyo, we left a stain on your block, you with a cop
Pointin at them niggaz, that kept shit hot
Next to 'Pac, I'm the hottest out, homey we can bang out
air it out, box 'em in, square it out
Learn about your and we right there
Me and Game have you left there
N-O-B-L-E,
We with ease, and I double my cheese
I got niggaz out in Compton find yo' ass
I got out in Jersey, that'll hide yo' ass
for a long time if you ever with mine
It's a line dog between the real and the fraud
We killin squad, my homeboy still in the yard
You the type of motherfucker next to the God
The Game is deep, you motherfuckers the streets
Young and the homey Game flamin heat, c'mon