The Game – The Soundtrack (feat. Meek Mill) Lyrics

(Verse 1 – Game and Meek Mill)
Politics as usual, them palm trees is beautiful
Crack rock lingering, fiends s**king they cuticles
Wear the wrong colors ’round here, ni**a’s is shooting you
Ni**a’s working out in them pens, stuck in they cubicles
Ni**a, you killing who? Street sh**, me and Meek sh**
F**k with him, f**k around and be your funeral
Have your momma ten and two, with my homies spinning through
Drive-by, laying side by side as they viewing you
Ha, cause you will ride for your ni**a, right?
Now with hearses side by side, with your ni**a right
Cause it been plenty nights I barely made it through this life
Ni**a’s want to snatch my soul from me like I’m Jesus Christ
Compton, California, come and see what my city like
Babies losing hope when they see they momma hit the pipe
Rosecrans, Berks Street, ni**a’s trying to murk me
God, it hit me first, G

(Chorus – The Game and Meek Mill)
This right here the soundtrack to a real ni**a life
Coming from a city where they kill ni**a’s like “La-da-da”
The soundtrack to a real ni**a life
Coming from a city where they kill ni**a’s like “La-da-da”

(Verse 2 – The Game and Meek Mill)
Uh, my dog doing life
Cause he ain’t had no safety like the Rams secondary
And he come out in 2060, Nevuary, never scared
Cause I got real ni**as everywhere
That’ll cut your life short like it’s February
Killer Cali, where them burnouts is necessary
Specially when the feds is tapping phones like secretaries
Sh** real like 2Pac’s obituary
Kill him, B.I.G. too, but they memory legendary
And where I’m from, you get murdered like hereditary
They killed my homie, we came back like it was January
The first ni**a aiming to murk, ni**a
F**k your chain, want your shoes, your jean and your shirt, ni**a
Cause it’s cold out, f**k your concert cause you sold out
Your dad didn’t teach you all that sh** you sing that song bout
So what you talking about?
Absolutely nothing, they ain’t us, Meek, f**k em

(Repeat Chorus)

(Bridge: Meek Mill)
From Philly to Compton, ni**a
I fell in love with these streets, I lost my ni**’as too
But I’ll be damned I’ll let one of you ni**a’s take my life

(Verse 3 Game and Meek Mill)
Meek, tell em that I’m back on my grizzly though
Most these rappers’ life is like a f**king Miguel video
Compton killed eight of my ni**a’s, but that’s my city though
Yeah, we moving birds, but we throw em like a Frisbee though
Ni**a’s selling flat-screens, sixty-inch VIZIOs
Blow on a stone, smoking chronic on commodes
Listening to Hov like “I got to get my weight up
The system was made to break us, but they can’t take us, no
And I know they hate us though cause we really made it though
Balling like we Jordan, ni**as shooting, try and fade me though
O.G. Bobby Johnson, 44 with the potato nose
Turn you mashed potato, bro, but it’s all gravy though
I done been to church to masjid, it couldn’t save me though
Sh**, I got to save myself before I try to save a ho
F**k your role model, it was gold bottles after the gold hollows

(Repeat Chorus)