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Game Time
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This is a song me & my boy Ghost put together real quick, HOLLA!
hiphop rap hip hop instrumental beats east coast dirty south west instrumentals midwest realist ibe wazir
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Who I be? I be, I-B-E!
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop Hardcore Rap
Charts
Peak #2,605
Peak in subgenre #376
Author
Written by Ibe Wazir & Ghost
Uploaded
December 03, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.5 MB 128 kbps 3:51
Lyrics
Verse 1: (Ibe Wazir) I don't give a f*** , I got fired makin' minimum wage So I'm strapped, back on the block, I gotta get paid These n*** z tryna slow my do', they better know they role Cause Ibe Wazir can get outta control I'm in the streets like a State Patrol, but never snitchin' I'm "The Realist" motha f*** a, that's my only definition All the Major Record Labels better cut me a deal F*** wit my scrill, and get finger f*** ed wit the steel I can't be stopped, that means I can't be popped You put a price on my head, b*** I can't be copped This reality, I dare you motha f*** as to battle me You n*** z doubted me and brought "The Realist" up outta me This is me now, Midwest, the King of the throne (Ibe I heard it was the South?) Well we bringin' it home, come on Chorus: (Ghost) Before you bob your head you need to actually listen Everything you hearin', won't be found under fiction So don't jump the gun and go and dress the image Cause when it comes to game time, this ain't no scrimmage (Repeat) (Ghost, Cru Thick, lets go) Verse 2: (Ghost) Recess is over, this is the life I pursue You only rockin' that hat to the left, cause you saw it on the tube Hangin' out wit your friends, you tryna act hard and cool But any real motha f*** a'll tell ya stick to your roots You never know what'll happen whenever we let loose You better take a second and remember what you got to lose I know a lot of these people around here got a Tyson fuse You'll take shots to the body and won't receive a bruise Yesterday you were happy cause you copped new shoes Who knew that by today your ass would be all over the news I'm not tryin' to shut your eyes, just tellin' the truth Your heart's softer than a whole section of Rhythm & Blues, boy (Chorus) Verse 3: (Ibe Wazir) My mama's on her knees prayin', Pops sayin' salat For all those nights I be gone, but they be bringin' me back home Cause everybody knows, Ibie's known to crack domes I'll hit you wit a two piece, bigger than Fat Tone Never thinkin' 'bout a case when I break faces I'll hit you once and make your lips stick to your braces You'll fell me one time, right after I land one On the side of your head wit my fist, call it my handgun Just one shot, that's all I need Plus a b*** wit a fat ass and a bag of weed Look, I'm in the streets from sunrise to sundrop When that gun pop, +It's Goin' Down+ like Yung Joc And I won't hesitate, make no mistake If anybody wanna hate, then they can't even relate (that's what's up) So here's a big shoutout, to all my real n*** z Life is not hard, when you keep it real n*** z (Chorus) (Repeat) Come on
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