Game - Work Hard lyrics

(feat. Get Low, JT)

[JT]

Get Low Records motherfucker

Bringin the best to the table

Bluechip, Nina B, {?}, what it is

JT Get Low motherfucker that's what it is motherfucker

Yeah, who fuckin with us nigga

Now (what goes around comes around)

I'm puttin this clique up nigga against all you niggaz

Now get it right

[Verse One: Bluechip]

Hey yo, this is where I see me in this game

Benz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got your bitch all in the Range

And y'all niggaz ain't gon' do shit, soon as your crew spit

My tool spit, metal to your side, watch you lose hips

And I ain't want to take it there but fuck it we can bang

My Cali headbusters'll show you how to throw them things

I'm too connected like John Gotti and Nino

For a small fee they find your body wreakin out in Reno

I know the niggaz that sell weight, and niggaz that stick the niggaz

that sell weight, hammer close behind me like when you tailgate

I know you a snitch, I can see it in your eyes

Shackled up, D.O.C.'s, all my niggaz on that ride

You can, stunt if you wanna, Chip is a gunner

Been reignin/rainin since ninety-six now it's time for the thunder

[Verse Two: Nina B]

In your mind you can blame me but open your mouth and name me

I'm runnin you out of office you're softer than Bush and Cheney

Go 'head, and try to play me I do you like I was Amy Fisher

Smokin a Swisher like I wish a bitch would

Listen and use your vision cause livin in this - hood

And sinnin in your division you think it's all - good

Got niggaz on (Death Row) and it ain't about Suge

Niggaz that stay home they scared to come out shook

Mothers with five kids and all of 'em got took

It's right in these niggaz face, but they just will not look

I'm tired, of the B.S. I'm cheatin {?} some rejects

Even though we make the best of what little respect, we get

This is the life, that was given to me

A rich-ass bitch that's what I'm fittin to be

Brooklyn to Bangkok I'm beggin to be

And don't nobody write, what I'm spittin but me

Nina B

[Chorus: JT]

We 'bout to blow this bitch

Niggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, what

We 'bout to blow this bitch

Niggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, what

Underground with it, poppin collars now

Bust yo' shit nigga, put them guns down

Put yo' knuckles up, catch you slippin dawg

That's how we do it independent now we 'bout to ball

[Verse Three]

For years niggaz sold me dreams that got me gassed

Made me want to get revenge or get the hockey mask

Got beef? Yo the burner's in the lobby stashed

Get your crew if you want, all them niggaz is probably ass

I take the long way, fuck takin the shortcut

Now we got corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour bus

A quick 32, yo them shits is like warmups

It ain't coincidental in the hood we was born tough

You chump or get chumped, punk or get punked

Save your lil' craps homey, fuck it get drunk

Was one at the top, but now I'm back at the bottom

Most 'em hate to spit with me cause when I rap I surprise 'em

Shit is real, that's why I stay strapped with a condom

I keep 31 flavors just like Baskin & Robbins

I'm here now, y'all supposed to be stressed, scared to death

that you gonna be next, record labels, promote the rejects

While starvin artists is closest to sets

And certain niggaz duckin me because they owe me a check

I spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y'all niggaz know the deally

So turn the music up and roll a Philly

[Verse Four: JT]

Yeah, roll the Philly or Swisher Sweet

And I ain't trippin while you niggaz just stand on your feet

Figgaro done walked in the building, it's time to expand

Comin with hundreds of grands and hundreds of plans

You see this Black Wall Street is for the po' broke and hongry

None of my niggaz on the corner never be lonely

Stuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like Tony

Bricks and pounds of weed half the city owe me

My shipment too big, frontin out the homies

I ain't even trippin mayne my pockets never lonely

Benjamin Franklins and Grants stick together like

Boys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh

Yeah mayne, it's real shit nigga and we independent nigga

Fuck what'chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at nigga

Fuck all your major labels nigga, that's what it is

JT the Bigga Figga, Nina B [fades out]