the game - the pledge lyrics
from the top
back again mothaf-ckas
it’s 3 am in the mornin’, like what?
n-ggas can’t f-ck with me man. west coast don
you know me. ha!
aw sh-t! you know what i’m bout to do this sh-t
body this sh-t! yeah, blackwall street n-ggas
the black jim hoffa, that’s me
chec, chec, check
yo..
[verse]
eh yo these rap n-ggas bore me
flow dormant, so corny
that’s why when i drop sh-t
they jump on it
like d-cks they love it
h0m- n-ggas
choke when the game on the line
dallas cowboy romo n-ggas
i got more b-tches, more digits
07 i’m hitting more switches
hip-hop broke, i’m gon fix it
i been away for a minute
i was in europe on tour
now i’m back, bonjour
the flow is so pure
i was baptized by the doug e fresh’s
lost my way and got reckless
too much beefin’ had me screwed up like texas
so i had to take em back to the ’98 lexus
take the grill out for dinner
chop the crack for breakfast
it’s a million n-ggas like me
red strings in they nike’s
some official, some softer than scott’s tissue
that’s life b
deal with it
carry the steel with it
if you hard peel with it
one dome shot if you real with it
i’m from compton son
aim at a target and i will hit it
cocaine game
put red sauce on ya bills fitted
see me in the streets
i’m probably holdin’ some
beverly hills
spending money like i’m oprah’s son
that’s why the b-tches feel me
and they baby daddy’s wanna k!ll me
run up on the range
f-cking with game
he gon bang
picture ya bleedin’
all stretched out
barely breathin’
huffin’ and wheezin’
as the range rover tires screechin’
i’ve been
coached by the ogs
chased by the police
you ain’t never seen a n-gga
hit a fence like me
catch me if you can
leonardo dicaprio
they say i’m not a real blood
the hood is backin’ me though
n-ggas like deebo, white boy, fog and knot
ask big dan if young game
jogged the block
hog the rock
sell it if it’s hard or not
before they call the cops
i rip apart the block
i’m in the bathroom flushing
out the window, hit the back gate
tomorrow guess what?
i’m at the same corner hustlin
i done sold weed, sold x, sold crack
never been snitched on
cause i ain’t ever ran with no rats
never left ma grandma house
without loading both straps
never fumbled runnin’ like barry sanders
know that
i vow to hustle til there’s no more crack
indirectly, got a young n-gga to fold those packs
the black jim hoffa
lemme introduce you to the show stopper
mr. lamborghini driver, low-pro copper
he is i and i am he
we are one like the moon and the sun
og
i been around
kid hustlin
with grown men around
seen homies get shot
and watch bodies spin around
ain’t hardly from marcy
but i gotta respect it
got n-ggas there
chi town
and mo-town
i’m well-connected
get your body dropped off
any town i please
let the trap snap on the rat
you’ll die eating cheese
get on your knees
pray for harry-o, kenneth supreme
i pledge allegiance to the hustlers
keep livin’ ya dream
what?
ayo skee man, sh-t is too easy
ya know what i’m sayin?
we put out mixtapes when the f-ck we feel like it
not when you want it, when the f-ck we feel like it
and i’m the ceo of mothaf-ckin’ blackwall street records, blackwall street enterprises, blackwall street p-rno’s, blackwall street toilet tissue, blackwall street mothaf-ckin’ car detailin’, blackwall street car wash n-gga, blackwall street socks, shoes, mothaf-ckin’ ovens, kitchen appliances, i’m blackwall street’s president, ceo, f-ckin’… f-ck it!
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