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Common » The Game
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	(Chorus:) It's only right that I address this. Gotta be in it to win it. I never come lame type chillin in the game. Now get busy (Verse 1:) Raised by game Where niggas ain't fazed by fame. Come to the crib, get banged, they take your chain. Stay in your lane Broke back ain't the way of the game. My brainstorm is like I stay in the ring. My favorite was Kane, now I'm dope with weight in the game You was hot but can't stay in the rain. Ghetto pain and windows crack. The fist is like a symbol for black Can tell the real by how the interact In the middle of whack my soul stick to a track Kickback records get kicked to the back I want big cribs and my man Ronnie to get his Child in a good school and know what her gift is It's global warming, the world is shifting Watching Sweet Sixteen, Bithin-ass rich kids You know, I know I gotta go the distance Whether yoga or doja, we all get lifted in the game. (chorus) (Verse 2:) I never kissed that ass of the masters I'm the black molasses Thick and I last Pass these rat bastards They try to box me in like gaseous clay Hey I'm like Muhammad when he fasted Opposing the fascist Got cuts and got gashes, scratches over third eyelashes Punchlines are like jab pits to rappers Whose careers now ashes It's too many slashes in their name Came in the game From weak lines to clothing lines to an actress I seen em dashing smash hits I yell run nigga run While I cook up classics The weak hearted, become Babylon puppets Making it hard for real hustlas Touch the sky now and then, with a lady friend Give thanks to the most that's how the day begins in the game. (chorus) (Verse 3:) I just wanna be like Akeelah, an achiever From the streets of the Chi where some get high for leisure Selling weed out of cleaners From rocks to barber shops and beamers Chicks with blond weaves and strong legs like Serena The demeanor of the Ghetto, to never stay settled Aldermen and corrupt men play Pharaoh Good bring business to the hood like heralds Find your own, walking by themselves in the street The young die of cancer I stopped eating meat Greet the gods on 87th street like peace Even though it's , got em facing the east The game ain't tasting as sweet Cats flow is still, and his compliance with beats My radio station is deep , so eff em Progression, counting paper and blessings in the game (chorus)
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