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[The Game]


I got shit on my chest, I must confess


Last night I was the nigga that shot up your projects


Now I`m back in the hood, with rocks in the Pyrex


Tan khakis and them Nike Airs with the dyed checks


I was forced to live this life, forced to bust my chrome


My pops left me in a foster home


I felt abandoned like Quik now that Mausberg gone


So I don`t hop in the SS without the Mossberg homes


I`ve been rappin for a year and a half, my life is real


Put the gun in his mouth, he gon` bite the steel


Come to Compton, I got stripes for real


Before Dre, before the ice, before the deal - I was almost killed


Like `Pac before the Death Row deal


I got shot over two pounds of weed, still ain`t found them niggaz


But karma come quicker for a nigga on the other side of the gun


That`s somethin I gotta teach my son





[Chorus: Faith Evans]


I don`t need your love, no no no no


I don`t need your love


Need it, I don`t want it, I don`t need it


I don`t need your love, no I don`t need your love


I don`t need your love


Cause, the, game, don`t, change





[The Game]


I heard they got Bloods in New York now


Red rags in Uptown Harlem now, I need that love


Front court at the Knicks game, new chick, French name


New car, new house, and sometimes friends change


And you don`t need that love, when you G`s like us


And your Jesus piece is sim-u-lar to Biggie`s


And your life story is sim-u-lar to 50`s


First they hate you, then they love you, then they hate you again


What the fuck do it take for a gangsta to win?


No mics, no +Unsigned Hype+, nigga *FUCK* The Source


Plus them awards I don`t need


And them niggaz breathin the same air as me, actin like they don`t bleed


We don`t drive the same speed, this a Continental T


That`s a case of Armadale, this a continental suite


So I`ma drown in my own sorrows


Live life, fuck tomorrow, nigga cause reality is





[Chorus] w/ variations + ad libs





[The Game]


I was gassed up, Murder Inc., Roc-A-Fella passed up


Sat in Daddy`s House with Black Rob and Lou and asked Puff


Now The Game set in stone, the Frank Muniz set in stones


Dre cut me a check, I`m gone


Tryin to be the king of the streets, niggaz`ll wet your throne


But I got nieces to feed, two coasts to please


So I roam through the city like the ghost of E


Gotta put Compton back where it`s `sposed to be


Nuttin between all my niggaz that`s close to me


In the streets with two fellas packin toast for me


I`m `posed to be, got all the critics watchin my pivot


On my block in the Coupe readin kites from prison


I got niggaz doin life in prison


All my fallen soldiers is one of the reasons we pour out liquor


So this song is for Ms. Wallace, Afeni Shakur


And all the mothers of dead sons that went out in the war





[Chorus] - 2X w/ variations + ad libs

[The Game]


I got shit on my chest, I must confess


Last night I was the nigga that shot up your projects


Now I`m back in the hood, with rocks in the Pyrex


Tan khakis and them Nike Airs with the dyed checks


I was forced to live this life, forced to bust my chrome


My pops left me in a foster home


I felt abandoned like Quik now that Mausberg gone


So I don`t hop in the SS without the Mossberg homes


I`ve been rappin for a year and a half, my life is real


Put the gun in his mouth, he gon` bite the steel


Come to Compton, I got stripes for real


Before Dre, before the ice, before the deal - I was almost killed


Like `Pac before the Death Row deal


I got shot over two pounds of weed, still ain`t found them niggaz


But karma come quicker for a nigga on the other side of the gun


That`s somethin I gotta teach my son





[Chorus: Faith Evans]


I don`t need your love, no no no no


I don`t need your love


Need it, I don`t want it, I don`t need it


I don`t need your love, no I don`t need your love


I don`t need your love


Cause, the, game, don`t, change





[The Game]


I heard they got Bloods in New York now


Red rags in Uptown Harlem now, I need that love


Front court at the Knicks game, new chick, French name


New car, new house, and sometimes friends change


And you don`t need that love, when you G`s like us


And your Jesus piece is sim-u-lar to Biggie`s


And your life story is sim-u-lar to 50`s


First they hate you, then they love you, then they hate you again


What the fuck do it take for a gangsta to win?


No mics, no +Unsigned Hype+, nigga *FUCK* The Source


Plus them awards I don`t need


And them niggaz breathin the same air as me, actin like they don`t bleed


We don`t drive the same speed, this a Continental T


That`s a case of Armadale, this a continental suite


So I`ma drown in my own sorrows


Live life, fuck tomorrow, nigga cause reality is





[Chorus] w/ variations + ad libs





[The Game]


I was gassed up, Murder Inc., Roc-A-Fella passed up


Sat in Daddy`s House with Black Rob and Lou and asked Puff


Now The Game set in stone, the Frank Muniz set in stones


Dre cut me a check, I`m gone


Tryin to be the king of the streets, niggaz`ll wet your throne


But I got nieces to feed, two coasts to please


So I roam through the city like the ghost of E


Gotta put Compton back where it`s `sposed to be


Nuttin between all my niggaz that`s close to me


In the streets with two fellas packin toast for me


I`m `posed to be, got all the critics watchin my pivot


On my block in the Coupe readin kites from prison


I got niggaz doin life in prison


All my fallen soldiers is one of the reasons we pour out liquor


So this song is for Ms. Wallace, Afeni Shakur


And all the mothers of dead sons that went out in the war





[Chorus] - 2X w/ variations + ad libs

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