Download clean vinyl LP CD free mp3 audio song by The Game and this music is titled “My Life ft. Lil Wayne”.
Actually this amazing music is popped out of an album which is titled “LAX” And it was released in the year 2008.
Listen up below.
[Intro: The Game]
Punk-ass motherfucker, checkin’ shit
What you was gonna do?
Kill me in my sleep, you bitch-ass nigga?
2Pac, Biggie – shut the fuck up!
Fuckin’ dogs, barkin’ and shit
(Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!)
Fuck you, nigga!
[Hook: Lil Wayne]
And I’m grindin’ till I’m tired
‘Cause they said: “You ain’t grindin’ till you tired.”
So I’m grindin’ with my eyes wide
Lookin’ to find a way through the day, a light for the night
Dear Lord, you done took so many of my people
I’m just wonderin’ why you haven’t taken my life
Like what the hell am I doin’ right? My life
[Verse 1: The Game]
Take me away from the hood, like a state penitentiary
Take me away from the hood, in a casket or a Bentley
Take me away, like I overdosed on cocaine
Or take me away like a bullet from Kurt Cobain, suicide
I’m from a windy city like Do or Die
From a block close to where Biggie was crucified
That was Brooklyn’s Jesus, shot for no fuckin’ reason
And you wonder why Kanye wears Jesus pieces?
‘Cause that’s Jesus, people – and Game, he’s the equal
Hated on so much, Passion of Christ need a sequel
Yeah, like Roc-a-Fella needed Siegel
Like I needed my father, but he needed a needle
I need some meditation so I can lead my people
They askin’, “Why, why did John Lennon leave The Beatles?”
And why every hood nigga feed off evil?
Answer my question ‘fore this bullet leave this Desert Eagle
[Verse 2: The Game]
We are not the same, I am a Martian
So approach my Phantom doors with caution
You see them 24s spinnin’? I earned ’em
And I ain’t no preacher, but here’s my Erick Sermon
So eat this black music and tell me how it taste now
And fuck Jesse Jackson, ‘cause it ain’t about race now
Sometimes I think about my life, with my face down
Then I see my sons and put on that Kanye smile
Damn, I know his mama proud; and since you helped me sell my dream, we can share my mama now
And like M.J.B. no more drama now
Livin’ the good life, me and Common on common ground
I spit crack, and niggas could drive it out of town
Got a Chris Paul mindstate, I’m never out of bounds
My life used to be empty like a Glock without a round
Now my life full like a chopper with a thousand rounds
[Verse 3: The Game]
Walk through the gates of hell, see my Impala parked in front
With the high beams on, me and the devil sharin’ chronic blunts
Listenin’ to the Chronic album, playin’ backwards
Shootin’ at pictures of Don Imus for target practice
My mind fucked up, so I cover it with a Raider hood
I’m from the city that made you motherfuckers afraid of Suge (Compton, Compton)
Made my grandmother pray for good
It never made her happy, but I bet that new Mercedes could
Ain’t no bars, but niggas can’t escape the hood
And it took so many of my niggas that I should hate the hood
But it’s real niggas like me that make the hood
Ridin’ slow in that Phantom just the way I should
With the top back, in my Sox hat
I’m paid in full, the nigga Alpo couldn’t stop that
Even if they brought the nigga Pac back
I’d still keep this motherfucker cocked back