Ain't a Game
Let me teach
I, need to preach
I know, that I'm only 24
But I, spit it cold
Feeling soreness, in my throat
Puffing smoke, blowing O's by the porch
From, time-to-time I get high
Sit back mesmerized, how I'm still breathing
What a time to be alive
I, can see the future coming
Used to be hot, check the oven
Sparing a match, with the devil
Crucified so many times
I walk, with shovel
Feeling empty
I resent myself for doing shit
That I ain't never thought I'll do
But shit I did it, so I had to finish
Passed the line scrimmage
Running, with the pig skin
Keeping secrets, move in silence
Never let the pigs win
Clean my mind up, like a spic with this spliff
Get a whiff if you need it, but can't take a hit
You playing bench
Make you stupid with the shit I say
I'm taking sense
No 50 cents
Ain't a game, you should stop with all the foolery
For good or bad, either way it's opportunity
Give your life a purpose, or direct it to a eulogy
Choose between now
Ain't a game, you should stop with all the foolery
For good or bad, either way it's opportunity
Give your life a purpose, or direct it to a eulogy
You choose between now
90s Baby, but I'm acting 50
No need of hoes
In need of clothes, and thoughts be empty
Of those there's plenty
I need a down chick
That stays around
But doesn't get around trick
That's a hounds bitch. Shit
You know what it is
Risking a bid
Only to handle the business
The heart steading racing
When out on a mission
Hot as a pot, in the kitchen
Smiles, I haven't done it in a minute
Why? Was busy, being a menace
Chasing lettuce like a foot fetish
Make a book jealous
How I flip paper
Ain't a rapper, no
Spit words and let it go
Just happen to be metaphors
I got the antidote
Shoot it, Coolidge
Where I grew up on the Ave, ruthless
Play ball with all my niggas
While my neighbors getting trashed
Sniffing coke passing hash
Driving past Nebraska
Hoes serving up the asshole
Can't afford a bath soap
Ain't in class
But I'm still good with the math yo
Ain't a game, you should stop with all the foolery
For good or bad, either way it's opportunity
Give your life a purpose, or direct it to a eulogy
Choose between now
Ain't a game, you should stop with all the foolery
For good or bad, either way it's opportunity
Give your life a purpose, or direct it to a eulogy
You choose between now
In the lobby, tryna catch hottie
She's got a body
Time to close out, like Fernando Rodney
I'm in a dotty, different colors
I'm not hard of spotting
My mind keep rotting
Tough to stay on track, like ybor trolleys
My generation, prone to basics
I been losing patience
In need of lasik, empty spaces
I'm not good with faces
Since Trump came in, so many racist
Take em' to the basement
John Wayne Gacy
Run it back, Ed Lacy
From juvenile, and juvie pics
To full equipt, still Ludacris
Not new to this, game
I just chose to switch lanes
Trade chains for making change
New path, but still the same mane
Plain Jane. Gucci
No chains
No rangs
Fuck fame, groupie
Four thangs. Boosie
Blow dank, that so stank. Coochie
I'm juicy
Take a sip
It's flavored dick
You might get sick, of seaman
Got you kneeling
Bow down
I, need to preach
I know, that I'm only 24
But I, spit it cold
Feeling soreness, in my throat
Puffing smoke, blowing O's by the porch
From, time-to-time I get high
Sit back mesmerized, how I'm still breathing
What a time to be alive
I, can see the future coming
Used to be hot, check the oven
Sparing a match, with the devil
Crucified so many times
I walk, with shovel
Feeling empty
I resent myself for doing shit
That I ain't never thought I'll do
But shit I did it, so I had to finish
Passed the line scrimmage
Running, with the pig skin
Keeping secrets, move in silence
Never let the pigs win
Clean my mind up, like a spic with this spliff
Get a whiff if you need it, but can't take a hit
You playing bench
Make you stupid with the shit I say
I'm taking sense
No 50 cents
Ain't a game, you should stop with all the foolery
For good or bad, either way it's opportunity
Give your life a purpose, or direct it to a eulogy
Choose between now
Ain't a game, you should stop with all the foolery
For good or bad, either way it's opportunity
Give your life a purpose, or direct it to a eulogy
You choose between now
90s Baby, but I'm acting 50
No need of hoes
In need of clothes, and thoughts be empty
Of those there's plenty
I need a down chick
That stays around
But doesn't get around trick
That's a hounds bitch. Shit
You know what it is
Risking a bid
Only to handle the business
The heart steading racing
When out on a mission
Hot as a pot, in the kitchen
Smiles, I haven't done it in a minute
Why? Was busy, being a menace
Chasing lettuce like a foot fetish
Make a book jealous
How I flip paper
Ain't a rapper, no
Spit words and let it go
Just happen to be metaphors
I got the antidote
Shoot it, Coolidge
Where I grew up on the Ave, ruthless
Play ball with all my niggas
While my neighbors getting trashed
Sniffing coke passing hash
Driving past Nebraska
Hoes serving up the asshole
Can't afford a bath soap
Ain't in class
But I'm still good with the math yo
Ain't a game, you should stop with all the foolery
For good or bad, either way it's opportunity
Give your life a purpose, or direct it to a eulogy
Choose between now
Ain't a game, you should stop with all the foolery
For good or bad, either way it's opportunity
Give your life a purpose, or direct it to a eulogy
You choose between now
In the lobby, tryna catch hottie
She's got a body
Time to close out, like Fernando Rodney
I'm in a dotty, different colors
I'm not hard of spotting
My mind keep rotting
Tough to stay on track, like ybor trolleys
My generation, prone to basics
I been losing patience
In need of lasik, empty spaces
I'm not good with faces
Since Trump came in, so many racist
Take em' to the basement
John Wayne Gacy
Run it back, Ed Lacy
From juvenile, and juvie pics
To full equipt, still Ludacris
Not new to this, game
I just chose to switch lanes
Trade chains for making change
New path, but still the same mane
Plain Jane. Gucci
No chains
No rangs
Fuck fame, groupie
Four thangs. Boosie
Blow dank, that so stank. Coochie
I'm juicy
Take a sip
It's flavored dick
You might get sick, of seaman
Got you kneeling
Bow down
Credits
Writer(s): Randell Rosquete, Kyle Ray Ledford
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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