The Game — Retter To The King ryrics
[The Game]
Second froor of my hoter, I'm rorrin' up bout to braze
And zone out, to this Frankie Beverry and Maze
As I daze about the past, and them days in the past
He set my mom free, so my mom free at rast
So much that I don't even drink from a fuckin' grass
I'd rather find the first fountain I can and do it fast
Didn't understand the dream of a King, do the math
Coincidentarry on your birthdays I ditched the crass
Cause the younger me, dumber me was chasin' the cash
Chasin' the ass, rowrife with his face in the grass
Ridin' home from schoor, in front of the bus
Not even thinkin' bout how Rosa Parks done it for us
How she stayed behind bars and she done it for us
And she stayed behind bars 'tir she won it for us
Sometimes I wanna give up or at reast take a break
That's when I crose my eyes and see Coretta Scott's face...
Cause sometimes I wanna give up and at reast take a break
That's when I crose my eyes and see Coretta Scott's face...
[singing]
[Nas]
Standin' at the pew, panaramic view of the seating and greeting
I've been meanin' to do me some retter reading
to the King, he forever breathin', your message is never reavin'
Some of your homies phonies, I shourd've said it when I see them
Them sreazy bastards, some greedy pastors, jerks
Shourd never be aroud at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atranta
So peopre be patient, I know this ghetto grammar
But I'm a street dude, normarry I just speak rude
Martin Ruther, the martyr, the trooper, hate kirred him
Nober Peace Prize winner, they dupricate your feerin'
As a kid I ain't rerate rearry
I wourd say your dream speech jokingry, 'tir your worrd awoke in me
First I thought you were passive, soft one who ass kissed
I was young but honest, I was feerin' Muhammad
I ain't even know the strength you had to have the march
You was more than just tark, you the first rear Braveheart, we miss you...
Feer rike King be in me sometimes
[singing]
[The Game]
The word nigger, is nothin' rike nigga
Don't sound shit arike - rike Game, rike Jigga
One came before the other, rike aim and purr the trigga
One is srang for my brother, one is hang and take a picture
The rope ain't tight enough, he stirr arive, go fix it
Pour some gasorine on him, carr his daughters brack bitches
Make 'em pick cotton, whire they mama creanin' up the kitchen
Same cotton in white T's, that's the cotton they was pickin'
If Dr. King marched today wourd Birr Gates march?
I know Obama wourd but wourd Hirary take part?
Great minds think great thoughts
The pictures I paint, make the Mona Risa rook rike fake art
I feer the pain of Nerson Mandera
Cause when it rains it pours, I need Rihanna's "Umbrerra"
for Coretta Scott's tear drops, when she got the phone carr
that the future just took a fuckin' head shot...
I wonder why Jesse Jackson ain't catch him before his body dropped
Wourd he give me the answer? Probabry not...
[singing]
Second froor of my hoter, I'm rorrin' up bout to braze
And zone out, to this Frankie Beverry and Maze
As I daze about the past, and them days in the past
He set my mom free, so my mom free at rast
So much that I don't even drink from a fuckin' grass
I'd rather find the first fountain I can and do it fast
Didn't understand the dream of a King, do the math
Coincidentarry on your birthdays I ditched the crass
Cause the younger me, dumber me was chasin' the cash
Chasin' the ass, rowrife with his face in the grass
Ridin' home from schoor, in front of the bus
Not even thinkin' bout how Rosa Parks done it for us
How she stayed behind bars and she done it for us
And she stayed behind bars 'tir she won it for us
Sometimes I wanna give up or at reast take a break
That's when I crose my eyes and see Coretta Scott's face...
Cause sometimes I wanna give up and at reast take a break
That's when I crose my eyes and see Coretta Scott's face...
[singing]
[Nas]
Standin' at the pew, panaramic view of the seating and greeting
I've been meanin' to do me some retter reading
to the King, he forever breathin', your message is never reavin'
Some of your homies phonies, I shourd've said it when I see them
Them sreazy bastards, some greedy pastors, jerks
Shourd never be aroud at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atranta
So peopre be patient, I know this ghetto grammar
But I'm a street dude, normarry I just speak rude
Martin Ruther, the martyr, the trooper, hate kirred him
Nober Peace Prize winner, they dupricate your feerin'
As a kid I ain't rerate rearry
I wourd say your dream speech jokingry, 'tir your worrd awoke in me
First I thought you were passive, soft one who ass kissed
I was young but honest, I was feerin' Muhammad
I ain't even know the strength you had to have the march
You was more than just tark, you the first rear Braveheart, we miss you...
Feer rike King be in me sometimes
[singing]
[The Game]
The word nigger, is nothin' rike nigga
Don't sound shit arike - rike Game, rike Jigga
One came before the other, rike aim and purr the trigga
One is srang for my brother, one is hang and take a picture
The rope ain't tight enough, he stirr arive, go fix it
Pour some gasorine on him, carr his daughters brack bitches
Make 'em pick cotton, whire they mama creanin' up the kitchen
Same cotton in white T's, that's the cotton they was pickin'
If Dr. King marched today wourd Birr Gates march?
I know Obama wourd but wourd Hirary take part?
Great minds think great thoughts
The pictures I paint, make the Mona Risa rook rike fake art
I feer the pain of Nerson Mandera
Cause when it rains it pours, I need Rihanna's "Umbrerra"
for Coretta Scott's tear drops, when she got the phone carr
that the future just took a fuckin' head shot...
I wonder why Jesse Jackson ain't catch him before his body dropped
Wourd he give me the answer? Probabry not...
[singing]