Hard Times lyrics

by

The Game


[Intro]
They don’t seem to want me but they won’t admit
I think I’m some kind of creature that they are
Having fear of Hard times
Theres no love to be found

[The Game]
I’m feeling like a black democrat
Barack Obama, the only n*gga that can catch Osama
Spray lamas, get good head and f*ck fly b*tches with no covenant
Only the kitchen oven in and rules to the government
Ask the republicans how crack cocaine get smuggled in?
Watch them throw they hands up and say it wasn’t them
As for rap, this is my lyrical asthma attack
It’s all I know, the guns, the cash, the dro
Fidel Castro on my own right, Capone like
Mafioso, Ben Franky on the low pro
Drop top Bentley, chromed out semi
Two grand in popular demand like the first pennies
My Audemars Piguet wrist say it's time to dethrone Jay quick
Tell 'em other n*ggas to take six
Coupe a buck fifty, what’s coming out the speakers?
Got every video b*tch scared to f*ck with me

[Hook]
Having hard times
There’s no love to be found
Having hard times
There no love to be found
[Lil Wayne]
sh*t gangster to the core
Ain’t no rap flame paint your kitchen floor
What you, you can’t ignore
Things you endure went up against the board
All I heard was easy don’t fill me no more
I hear your bullsh*t, I play matador
I’m outta category I ain’t there with you
I got a positive vibe, but I ain’t scared of ya'll
Hit the kid n*gga dip, never that at all
Then red attack the wall, that black-ack-ack-ack-ack
I got a girl so fine her name Perignon
She know how to get them things in her carry on
I blow outta town Grants when I'm outta town
Uptown in the building how that sounds
Cause killas don’t get heard about
They get whispered about and you get murdered out, boy

[Hook]

[Lil Wayne]
You got it on your mind look daddy say something
All that play buckin' get your face buttoned up
And now when you smirk you look like Jay Z’s shirt
Steppin' on the turf
[The Game]
Give 'em hard di*k and tampons
A shot of Patron and Don
The ones trained get ran on, my crew hard
Louis V sweaters on the boulevard
Pull n*ggas cars throw up signs and bang Nas

[Lil Wayne]
They call me J.R. I tell 'em come holla
I tell my poppa put away your dollars, your son got choppers
And if you got enemy’s, your son got enemies, that uptown energy

[The Game]
n*ggas ain't gon' never be on my level
Get a shovel, dig a hole
b*tch and poly with he devil you or I, quiet hustler
I’m a 80’s baby for real born in '79 and bread to kill

[Hook]
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