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    GAME, THE

    LAX 2008 ©

    Letter To The King

    Second floor of my hotel, I'm rollin' up bout to blaze
    And zone out, to this Frankie Beverly and Maze
    As I daze about the past, and them days in the past
    He set my mom free, so my mom free at last
    So much that I don't even drink from a fuckin' glass
    I'd rather find the first fountain I can and do it fast
    Didn't understand the dream of a King, do the math
    Coincidentally on your birthdays I ditched the class
    Cause the younger me, dumber me was chasin' the cash
    Chasin' the ass, lowlife with his face in the grass
    Ridin' home from school, in front of the bus
    Not even thinkin' bout how Rosa Parks done it for us
    How she stayed behind bars and she done it for us
    And she stayed behind bars 'til she won it for us
    Sometimes I wanna give up or at least take a break
    That's when I close my eyes and see Coretta Scott's face...
    Cause sometimes I wanna give up and at least take a break
    That's when I close my eyes and see Coretta Scott's face...




    Standin' at the pew, panaramic view of the seating and greeting
    I've been meanin' to do me some letter reading
    to the King, he forever breathin', your message is never leavin'
    Some of your homies phonies, I should've said it when I see them
    Them sleazy bastards, some greedy pastors, jerks
    Should never be aloud at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta
    So people be patient, I know this ghetto grammar
    But I'm a street dude, normally I just speak rude
    Martin Luther, the martyr, the trooper, hate killed him
    Nobel Peace Prize winner, they duplicate your feelin'
    As a kid I ain't relate really
    I would say your dream speech jokingly, 'til your world awoke in me
    First I thought you were passive, soft one who ass kissed
    I was young but honest, I was feelin' Muhammad
    I ain't even know the strength you had to have the march
    You was more than just talk, you the first real Braveheart, we miss you...
    Feel like King be in me sometimes




    The word nigger, is nothin' like nigga
    Don't sound shit alike - like Game, like Jigga
    One came before the other, like aim and pull the trigga
    One is slang for my brother, one is hang and take a picture
    The rope ain't tight enough, he still alive, go fix it
    Pour some gasoline on him, call his daughters black bitches
    Make 'em pick cotton, while they mama cleanin' up the kitchen
    Same cotton in white T's, that's the cotton they was pickin'
    If Dr. King marched today would Bill Gates march?
    I know Obama would but would Hilary take part?
    Great minds think great thoughts
    The pictures I paint, make the Mona Lisa look like fake art
    I feel the pain of Nelson Mandela
    Cause when it rains it pours, I need Rihanna's "Umbrella"
    for Coretta Scott's tear drops, when she got the phone call
    that the future just took a fuckin' head shot...
    I wonder why Jesse Jackson ain't catch him before his body dropped
    Would he give me the answer? Probably not...

    2008 ©




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GAME, THE Letter To The King lyrics 60182 songs