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Game Ain't Based On Sympathy

Rick Ross
2017-03-163:39 phútLời đồng bộ

"Game Ain't Based On Sympathy" là bài hát của Rick Ross, 2017, Pop. Thời lượng 3:39, 54 lines / 451 words.

Lời bài hát

0:04Reminiscing on that uh
0:07I remember they used to give us that free cheese
0:10A big block of that sh*t
0:12Yeah man I'm glad y'all ain't gotta get that cheese
0:17Man I thank God my kids ain't gotta see that cheese
0:21Yo you know what I'm saying
0:28You gotta feed it to them raw feel me
0:31Renovating the ghettoes moving me elsewhere
0:34Daddy didn't see pension they took his healthcare
0:37Affordable housing and they fed us welfare
0:40Showed us Tony Montana teachers couldn't care less
0:43A young prince in Miami son of a pharaoh
0:46This is deeper than raps I can't run from the echoes
0:51And I hear the screams
0:52Under my mattress box springs I still see the cream
0:56Mac 11 next to Grammy invitations
0:58I'm never quiet tell my niggas all my aspirations
1:01No more beefing with rappers
1:03It's just murder or nothing
1:05New positions to master I perfected the others
1:08Niggas shoot for the magic never heard of Matumbo
1:11These are lucrative assets golden words that will mumble
1:35This the biggest
1:38Corner store was the stage I needed management
1:41In a mansion that I could squeeze another phantom in
1:45Negative people just seem to fail first
1:48I said I'm a genius put in the legwork
1:51You step to my niggas suggest you stay alert
1:54No I've never been lenient nor a man of mercy
1:57I stick my dick in her tell her my net worth
2:00Then we stare at each other and see who catch first
2:04A pretty chick she resembles Stacy Dash
2:06If it was her she had to kiss my feet and lick my a**
2:09P**sy ni**a want war til' it's bonjour
2:12Those hitters sitting a bomb outside your mom door
2:15Got your people alarmed cause we the armed force
2:18Easy as leaking a song before I go on tour
2:50Uh
2:52Gang violence ongoing let's fight our own wars
2:55Chicago been out of hand the city lost its soul
2:58Funeral every weekend or either you cremated
3:01Homie's son he been murdered he didn't seem faded
3:05Holding guns on the gram out of my league baby
3:08Real killers and hitters would rather live nameless
3:11I got a homie I know with a twenty body count
3:14Maybe only once or twice a month he leave the house
3:17Older brother type to get a curly perm
3:20Pappy Mason type respect for holding thirty birds
3:24Never was a gangster I just wanted in
3:26No longer could I deny that I wanted a Benz
3:29Booby gave me blessings and a root for me to win
3:33I showed him my ambition in two different fields
3:35Also said I was a rapper Booby here it is
3:39Real talk my ni**a here it is
Reminiscing on that uh
I remember they used to give us that free cheese
A big block of that sh*t
Yeah man I'm glad y'all ain't gotta get that cheese
Man I thank God my kids ain't gotta see that cheese
Yo you know what I'm saying
You gotta feed it to them raw feel me
Renovating the ghettoes moving me elsewhere
Daddy didn't see pension they took his healthcare
Affordable housing and they fed us welfare
Showed us Tony Montana teachers couldn't care less
A young prince in Miami son of a pharaoh
This is deeper than raps I can't run from the echoes
And I hear the screams
Under my mattress box springs I still see the cream
Mac 11 next to Grammy invitations
I'm never quiet tell my niggas all my aspirations
No more beefing with rappers
It's just murder or nothing
New positions to master I perfected the others
Niggas shoot for the magic never heard of Matumbo
These are lucrative assets golden words that will mumble
This the biggest
Corner store was the stage I needed management
In a mansion that I could squeeze another phantom in
Negative people just seem to fail first
I said I'm a genius put in the legwork
You step to my niggas suggest you stay alert
No I've never been lenient nor a man of mercy
I stick my dick in her tell her my net worth
Then we stare at each other and see who catch first
A pretty chick she resembles Stacy Dash
If it was her she had to kiss my feet and lick my a**
P**sy ni**a want war til' it's bonjour
Those hitters sitting a bomb outside your mom door
Got your people alarmed cause we the armed force
Easy as leaking a song before I go on tour
Uh
Gang violence ongoing let's fight our own wars
Chicago been out of hand the city lost its soul
Funeral every weekend or either you cremated
Homie's son he been murdered he didn't seem faded
Holding guns on the gram out of my league baby
Real killers and hitters would rather live nameless
I got a homie I know with a twenty body count
Maybe only once or twice a month he leave the house
Older brother type to get a curly perm
Pappy Mason type respect for holding thirty birds
Never was a gangster I just wanted in
No longer could I deny that I wanted a Benz
Booby gave me blessings and a root for me to win
I showed him my ambition in two different fields
Also said I was a rapper Booby here it is
Real talk my ni**a here it is

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