Luyện nghe bài hát G.a.m.e.

)

[19 second instrumental to

Game]
Live now, die later, or clock the shit out of haters
Got niggaz tryin to "Kiss the Game Goodbye" like
Get your shit pushed back like CD
put your brains on that Kenwood TV
So you can see hell in 3D, it's right dog
And the Game behind the is a nightmare dog
If it's pussy, I share it dog, beef I'm right here dog
I'm on the block, white Airs on
Gucci check, Coogi sweat, they know
if on the truck, give me coochie yet
But I come through in the new GS with two, three
Got niggaz Harlem like the new G. Dep
Tryin to read my whole script, but ain't the movie yet
have that glock stuffed tonight
I'm through with Young Noble, and we, gon', make, it
A block tonight

2X: The Game]
Getting American Easy, all I know
The Gangsta All Motherfuckers Envy, all my
a West coast knot, watch, let it bang out
Shots range out, for all the gangsta

Game]
Lace your tips, polish your gators, we like in Vegas
You can't ball? Then probably the haters
Can't breathe then it's the Desert, if you a gangsta or not
I give a fuck dog, is hot
And nigga gon' cry when he hit, the more pain
the more blood drain, he survivin shit
And your niggaz ain't ride for shit, they know
if came through everybody in the X-5 is hit
Red rag or blue rag, die for this
The Game the reason all these niggaz on "Cali Love" shit
Compton niggaz get grimy too, pull you out of 6
Fuck you up one time'll do
And I dare y'all to stop on the 'Shaw, and Boulevard
hard, Doogie Howser pullin bullets out your jaw
Turn your round trip into a ticket
You can visit, but you can not lie and it

[Young
Aiyyo, we left a on your block, you came with a cop
Pointin fingers at niggaz, that kept shit hot
Next to 'Pac, I'm the thang out, homey we can bang out
air it out, box 'em in, square it out
Learn your whereabouts and we right there
Me and Game have you left there
N-O-B-L-E,
We with ease, and I double my cheese
I got out in Compton that'll find yo' ass
I got niggaz out in Jersey, hide yo' ass
for a long time if you ever fuckin mine
It's a line dog between the real and the fraud
We killin your squad, my homeboy in the yard
You the type of standin next to the God
The Game is deep, you ain't the streets
Young Noble and the Game flamin heat, c'mon