Don't Need Your Love

The Game

    Continúa después del anuncio

    (feat. Faith Evans)

    [The Game]
    Yo Havoc, I'm too close to the edge on this one nigga
    I ain't gon' jump though, I'ma keep it raw gutter
    Yo Prodigy, you know I need you on this one nigga

    [The Game]
    I got shit on my chest, I must confess
    Last night I was the nigga that shot up your projects
    Now I'm back in the hood, with rocks in the Pyrex
    Tan khakis and them Nike Airs with the dyed checks
    I was forced to live this life, forced to bust my chrome
    My pops left me in a foster home
    I felt abandoned like Quik now that Mausberg gone
    So I don't hop in the SS without the Mossberg homes
    I've been rappin for a year and a half, my life is real
    Put the gun in his mouth, he gon' bite the steel
    Come to Compton, I got stripes for real
    Before Dre, before the ice, before the deal - I was almost killed
    Like 'Pac before the Death Row deal
    I got shot over two pounds of weed, still ain't found them niggaz
    But karma come quicker for a nigga on the other side of the gun
    That's somethin I gotta teach my son

    Continúa después del anuncio

    [Chorus: Faith Evans]
    I don't need your love, no no no no
    I don't need your love
    Need it, I don't want it, I don't need it
    I don't need your love, no I don't need your love
    I don't need your love
    Cause, the, game, don't, change

    [The Game]
    I heard they got Bloods in New York now
    Red rags in Uptown Harlem now, I need that love
    Front court at the Knicks game, new chick, French name
    New car, new house, and sometimes friends change
    And you don't need that love, when you G's like us
    And your Jesus piece is sim-u-lar to Biggie's
    And your life story is sim-u-lar to 50's
    First they hate you, then they love you, then they hate you again
    What the fuck do it take for a gangsta to win?
    No mics, no +Unsigned Hype+, nigga *FUCK* The Source
    Plus them awards I don't need
    And them niggaz breathin the same air as me, actin like they don't bleed
    We don't drive the same speed, this a Continental T
    That's a case of Armadale, this a continental suite
    So I'ma drown in my own sorrows
    Live life, fuck tomorrow, nigga cause reality is

    [Chorus w/ variations + ad libs]

    [The Game]
    I was gassed up, Murder Inc., Roc-A-Fella passed up
    Sat in Daddy's House with Black Rob and Lou and asked Puff
    Now The Game set in stone, the Frank Muniz set in stones
    Dre cut me a check, I'm gone
    Tryin to be the king of the streets, niggaz'll wet your throne
    But I got nieces to feed, two coasts to please
    So I roam through the city like the ghost of E
    Gotta put Compton back where it's 'sposed to be
    Nuttin between all my niggaz that's close to me
    In the streets with two fellas packin toast for me
    I'm 'posed to be, got all the critics watchin my pivot
    On my block in the Coupe readin kites from prison
    I got niggaz doin life in prison
    All my fallen soldiers is one of the reasons we pour out liquor
    So this song is for Ms. Wallace, Afeni Shakur
    And all the mothers of dead sons that went out in the war

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Havoc, The Game y Babyface

    ¿Los datos están equivocados?

    Enviar revisión

    Canciones relacionadas