Common The Game (Feat. DJ Premier) Lyrics

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 One]
Raised by game
Where n____s 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-a__ rich kids
You know, I know I gotta go the distance
Whether yoga or doja, we all get lifted in the game.


[Verse Two]
I never kissed that a__ of the masters
I'm the black molasses
Thick and I last
Pass these rat b______s
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 n____ 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.


[Verse Three]
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


See also:

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