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The Game
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The Game

Blood Of Christ lyrics

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The Game – Blood Of Christ lyrics


Aye, Duane
We gon’ let this ma’fucka breathe for minute

It’s still Aftermath…
It’s still Aftermath…

Now, when I said we gon’ let this ma’fucka breathe
I meant…
This ma’fuckin’ beat is dead, we gon’ perform cpr
And bring that motherfucker back to life

Let that ma’fucka breathe

Compton’s my city, that motherfucker ain’t never pretty
Gave ‘Pac life, them ma’fuckas that killed Biggie…
Them ma’fuckas that killed Biggie…
Them ma’fuckas that killed Biggie…

Notorious is, bring that Benz in
I’m a bottom dollar nigga, fuck 50 Cent
I heard Tony Yayo can’t pay the rent
I heard Lloyd Banks can’t pay the rent
I beat the G-Unit out of 40 Glocc
Sue me for 40 grand
That same 40 get you shot
iPhone in my hand doin’ the 40 wop
That nigga looked up and thought he saw 40 Pacs
Lookin’ out of my window, I see 40 cops
Tryin’ to serve a subpoena, I’m on thix xbox
2 Chainz voice, smokin’ that Wiz Khalifa
Somebody test that Waka Flocka, let me spit this ether
Yeh, let me spit this ether
Get, get, get, ‘til it blow the speakers
From eating Reese’s Pieces
To pointing guns, out for that Little Caesar’s pieces
All the way to jackin’ niggas for they Jesus pieces
I’m God to you bitch ass niggas
Put that on Matthew, pardon P!
[Hook x2]

Fuck with me?
Fuck with me?
Fuck with me?
Nigga, you stuck with me forever, and ever, and ever

[Verse 2:]
Shyne Po ain’t rich, Shyne poor
All the way in Belize with Kendrick dick in his throat

Good kid, mad city
Mad kid, bad city

Nothin’ from Compton could ever be trash
You hear that nigga voice? Sound like a dick in his ass
He reminiscing, a Compton nigga’s bitch in prison
Used to be Christian, now that nigga Jew
Can’t step foot in America so what he gon’ do?
P. Diddy’s stunt man, Jackie Chan, your ass through
Hood pass revoked, get your fuckin’ brains blew
Blood on that Yarmulke, now you really Pieru
Soon as they killed Biggie that man became you
But you couldn’t become him ‘cause you were shootin’ at the roof


I always wondered why Puff wasn’t in that truck
I said, I always wondered why Puff wasn’t in that truck…

Let that bitch breathe
Let that bitch breathe

This my motherfuckin’ city
Five motherfuckin’ albums
The Documentary?
Doctor’s Advocate?
Everything between that shit and Jesus Piece?
Them ma’fuckin’ grams?
Past it

Chop it up, rock it up
Do whatever the fuck you gotta do to get your motherfuckin’ paper
Shot out to my nigga Dr. Dre
He ain’t never gotta put out Detox
Long as he got me and Kendrick, nigga
And them motherfuckin’ Dre Beats you got on your motherfuckin’ head
That nigga made a billion dollars off of motherfuckin’ headphones
Mad kid, bad city!

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