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Cocaine

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    The Game
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  • Текст, перевод и аккорды “Cocaine”

  • [ Verse One ] I'm too gangsta for the streets, watch me when I creep I put five in ya, G - leave a nigga sleep Now you six feet deep over bullshit Got a Mac 10 mouth ain't never pull shit The ghetto know made G's and mo niggaz Get down or lay down, like Bennie Mack told niggaz Or meet the fo fo, nigga - I let the guns blow nigga I'm a rider - thug live til I die Black Wall Street behind us - I'm a menace to society Fuck Cane And O dogg, I got the cane and the o's, dawg I'm gangsta like Hennesy and Alizay, thug passion Ride or die til they kill me and put me in thugs mansion Gang bangin, this California life-style got me heated They want me burried so I don't leave with out the Desert Eagle Shoot first, ask questions on way to country jail Kill a nigga over my chain, 'cause I know I'ma make bail I'm troublesome [ Verse Two ] If I die tonight - bury me a G, (...) rap legends 'Cause I spit bullets and rhymes, sixteens and nines I keep a vest and a weapon, my baby momma got me stressin Prayin on my knees every night, askin God is there a heaven So here is my confession to my unborn child If five shots couldn't drop me but I ain't take 'em and smile I lost a lot of my niggaz to gang bangin and ditches One finger on the trigger, dawg, I live the life of a sinner These motherfucker wanna see me doing life in the pen I'm a outlaw and the westcoast is ridin again My competition is none, I'm on the mission with guns Starring death in the eyes, 20 niggaz deep, when we ride My enemies is bitches - they plottin on my riches Can't walk in the street with out paparazzi taking pictures Label me a made nigga, all the way from Compton to Boston These niggaz keep talkin, I leave 'em dead in the coffin I'm troublesome [ Verse Three ] Money over bitches is my motto, in the street I'n known for catchin hollo's Packing pistols and drinking (belvy) and grabbles out the bottle No roll models, only killas and fiends Withness my niggaz strapped with gats, an army for (...) If it's murder, he wrote it, if I'm lying let the devil excel quoted and know that I'm strictly a rap poet Babtized in my own tears, (chestized) by my own peers I'm a product of my childhood years My mother told me I'm hopeless, my pops wasn't around One of the reasons why I'm clutchin a pound California dreaming, chronic smoke out the beamer One hand on the nina, got these hoochie bitches screaming They know that I'm a celeberty - keep the cop-killers in the clip And watch my back is what my niggaz keep telling me Twenty-one years old, no felonies so I ride with the Desert and pay homage to the hardest rap legends I'm troublesome

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