Let Us Live - The Game, Chrisette Michele

Yo, I’m hopping out a Phantom with a iced out medallion

Stallions on both arms, rocks on both charms

My Dominican chick looking like Scarface sister

Red and curly and she wake me up early

Cause hustlers hit the block when police change shifts

New York, California, different toilet, same shit

In Brooklyn I rock Timberlands, still toast cinnamon

Been gangster way before he dropped Many Men

Liquor in my system, voice raspy

Who I sound like?

Don’t ask me, that’s my nigga, we classy

Him and Montega Jada our style superior to haters

You can catch me in the latest Marvin Gaters

Ralph Lauren suit tapered up, fly cause I’m papered up

Why these niggas keep hating on my Phantom?

I be out in Atlanta and body tapping, I’m probably strapped

Toast it up niggas

All my hoods on the real dark side of the track

No sunny skies, just really black

We live real down here, Lord let us live

No playing around here, Lord let us live

Don’t hate my hood, just hate my shine

We coming out, we on our grind

We live real down here, Lord let us live

We coming outta here, Lord let us live

Now who the fuck want war with the human gun store?

Gangsta rap is where I live just knock on the front door

Niggas stunt more than Jackie Chan, what the fuck them faggots saying?

Nothing when I walk in the club with the gat in hand

Take 'em back to '94, shooting out a Astro van

Banging was the blueprint, money was the master plan

Duffel bag full of Grants and Franklins

Rob niggas, take they money, shoot straight to the bank then

Head to the barbershop to get chopped up

Hearing war stories who dead and who locked up

Who snitching, who pitching and who knocked up

Fuck niggas in Black Wall Street I trust

Black hoodies and black Asics standing on the pavement

Hustlers don’t sleep nigga we work the grave shift

Fuck that long money, nigga, get paid quick

And don’t save shit

Ohh, all my hoods on the real dark side of the track

No sunny skies, just really black

We live real down here, Lord let us live

No playing around here, Lord let us live

Don’t hate my hood, just hate my shine

We coming out, we on our grind

We live real down here, Lord let us live

We coming outta here, Lord let us live

Lord knows that money don’t matter

Lord knows that status is badder

Lord knows about the hood I live in

Keeps taking away but he’s giving

Now don’t give me these cars (Lord let us live)

Don’t give me these mansions (Lord let us live)

Don’t hate me, just let me ride

Lord just give me light

I don’t hate Mobb Deep or M.O.P, that was a phase

I was caught up in the beef like a rat in a maze

And my legacy will never be that of a hater

Lyrical rhyme slayer, wack niggas say your prayers

It’s the return of Gandhi, Criminal minded city behind me

Put it on my face to remind me

Of all the shit I been through my physical presence, my pen too nice

My first album sent you life

I shoulda put down the mic when Rakim left Dre

No cleanup hitter so I was stranded on second base

I had to steal third, motherfucker that’s my word

Then some Queens niggas try to put me back on the curb

I was Ultimate Warrior to you bully ass niggas

I will come through the hood with the fully AK’s niggas

Like Snoop or Suge, I’m in the coupe, I’m good

Mothafuckas make way

Ohh, all my hoods on the real dark side of the track

No sunny skies, just really black

We live real down here, Lord let us live

No playing around here, Lord let us live

Don’t hate my hood, just hate my shine

We coming out, we on our grind

We live real down here, Lord let us live

We coming outta here, Lord let us live

Chrisette Michele, Cooshie

Black Wall, Coolie High

Scott Storch, let’s ride

'08 to infinity

California, New York

Scott Storch, Scott Storch

Scott Storch, Scott Storch, Scott Storch