Game lyrics

by

Juelz Santana


[Intro: Gucci Mane]
Yup! Yup!
Gucci Mane in this motherf*cker (Gucci Gucci)
My n*gga Zo' on the track (my n*gga Zo')
That real sh*t, that real sh*t

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I'm a hood rich n*gga, I ain't never had sh*t
I really ain't sh*t; n*ggas talkin 'bout me
But they really ain't sh*t, they ain't said sh*t
It don't make dollars, it don't make cents/sense

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
I ain't never had sh*t n*gga that's the truth
Rich kids in the school used to jones my shoes
Name stayed on the board, fo' checks in chalk
In detention cause the teacher say that we can't talk
Counselor raggin and my momma got that I just walk
I wish I had a nickel for every fight I fought
Stealin candy out the sto' like I can't get caught
Just a lil' bad black boy, it ain't my fault
After school snack syrup and fo' pieces of bread
Granddaddy why yo' eyes so God damn red?
"Got a real soft ass and a hard-ass head
Better mind your f*ckin manners boy," that's what he said
[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I'm a hood rich n*gga, I ain't never had sh*t
I really ain't sh*t; n*ggas talkin 'bout me
But they really ain't sh*t, they ain't said sh*t
It don't make dollars, it don't make cents/sense

[Verse 2: OJ Da Juiceman]
I moved to East Atlanta at the age of 9
Real cold winter, 1989
My brother good at ball, I can't play no sports
They won't let you pack a tool on the b-ball court
Cluster Ave, Monty Paul, where my daddy now?
Things goin alright, we a family now
Got the dopeman Nikes and the Starter coat
Only n*gga in school with the dopeman rope
Pull the joint two times, man I'm high already
I like that girl with them braids and them high-top Chevys
Got that bump for stick-up, Starter and the big boy chest
Tried to take it on the train but I just couldn't let him

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I'm a hood rich n*gga, I ain't never had sh*t
I really ain't sh*t; n*ggas talkin 'bout me
But they really ain't sh*t, they ain't said sh*t
It don't make dollars, it don't make cents/sense
[Verse 3: Kourtney Money]
14 gettin drunk at a house party
They locked me up, they must have hid a half a ounce on me
Momma mad as a mother', daddy let him be
Gucci Mane, raised me to be a straight up G
Now my daddy hustle hard, but he love sum liquor
And my momma wanna leave him but she love the n*gga
Everything kinda changed when I turned 16
Got the old school Regal with the chrome back rings
Like a newborn baby, man that b*tch clean
But the motor f*cked up and the transmission
And it's knockin down the street with the 415's
In Mackmile parkin lot, stright whipping
And I'm Bankhead bouncin, fo' hoes want me
Hit the half and give me two dimes for 15
And my mind's on gettin rich by all means
In the trap, cause this rap sh*t was just my dream

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I'm a hood rich n*gga, I ain't never had sh*t
I really ain't sh*t; n*ggas talkin 'bout me
But they really ain't sh*t, they ain't said sh*t
It don't make dollars, it don't make cents/sense
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