Work-Hard-lyrics-The-Game/4105FE220AD3A753482570580006213EWork-Hard-lyrics-The-Game/4105FE220AD3A753482570580006213EWork-Hard-lyrics-The-Game/4105FE220AD3A753482570580006213E The Game feat. JT & Get Low Lyrics

The Game feat. JT the Bigga Figga & Get Low Playaz Lyrics

(feat. Get Low, JT)
Get Low Records ************
Bringin the best to the table
Bluechip, Nina be , {?}, what it is
JT Get Low ************ that's what it is ************
Yeah, who ****in with us *****
Now (what goes around comes around)
I'm puttin this clique up ***** against all you *****z
Now get it right

[Verse One: Bluechip]
Hey yo, this is where I see me in this game
Benz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got your ***** all in the Range
And y'all *****z ain't gon' do ****, soon as your crew spit
My tool spit, metal to your side, watch you lose hips
And I ain't want to take it there but **** it we can bang
My Cali headbusters'll show you how to throw them things
I'm too connected like John Gotti and Nino
For a small fee they find your body wreakin out in Reno
I know the *****z that sell weight, and *****z that stick the *****z
That sell weight, hammer close behind me like when you tailgate
I know you a snitch, I can see it in your eyes
Shackled up, D.O.C.'s, all my *****z on that ride
You can, stunt if you wanna, Chip is a gunner
Been reignin/rainin since ninety-six now it's time for the thunder

[Verse Two: Nina B]
In your mind you can blame me but open your mouth and name me
I'm runnin you out of office you're softer than Bush and Cheney
Go 'head, and try to play me I do you like I was Amy Fisher
Smokin a Swisher like I wish a ***** would
Listen and use your vision cause livin in this - hood
And sinnin in your division you think it's all - good
Got *****z on (Death Row) and it ain't about Suge
*****z that stay home they scared to come out shook
Mothers with five kids and all of 'em got took
It's right in these *****z face, but they just will not look
I'm tired, of the B.S. I'm cheatin {?} some rejects
Even though we make the best of what little respect, we get
This is the life, that was given to me
A rich-*** ***** that's what I'm fittin to be
Brooklyn to Bangkok I'm beggin to be
And don't nobody write, what I'm spittin but me
Nina be

[Chorus: JT]
We 'bout to blow this *****
*****z work hard in the game so they notice this, what
We 'bout to blow this *****
*****z work hard in the game so they notice this, what
Underground with it, poppin collars now
Bust yo' **** *****, put them guns down
Put yo' knuckles up, catch you slippin dawg
That's how we do it independent now we 'bout to ball

[Verse Three]
For years *****z sold me dreams that got me gassed
Made me want to get revenge or get the hockey mask
Got beef? Yo the burner's in the lobby stashed
Get your crew if you want, all them *****z is probably ***
I take the long way, **** takin the shortcut
Now we got corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour bus
A quick 32, yo them shits is like warmups
It ain't coincidental in the hood we was born tough
You chump or get chumped, punk or get punked
Save your lil' craps homey, **** it get drunk
Was one at the top, but now I'm back at the bottom
Most 'em hate to spit with me cause when I rap I surprise 'em
**** is real, that's why I stay strapped with a condom
I keep 31 flavors just like Baskin & Robbins
I'm here now, y'all supposed to be stressed, scared to death
That you gonna be next, record labels, promote the rejects
While starvin artists is closest to sets
And certain *****z duckin me because they owe me a check
I spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y'all *****z know the deally
So turn the music up and roll a Philly

[Verse Four: JT]
Yeah, roll the Philly or Swisher Sweet
And I ain't trippin while you *****z just stand on your feet
Figgaro done walked in the building, it's time to expand
Comin with hundreds of grands and hundreds of plans
You see this Black Wall Street is for the po' broke and hongry
None of my *****z on the corner never be lonely
Stuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like Tony
Bricks and pounds of weed half the city owe me
My shipment too big, frontin out the homies
I ain't even trippin mayne my pockets never lonely
Benjamin Franklins and Grants stick together like
Boys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh
Yeah mayne, it's real **** ***** and we independent *****
**** what'chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at *****
**** all your major labels *****, that's what it is
JT the Bigga Figga, Nina be [fades out]

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