Lirik Lagu Work Hard - The Game
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[JT]Get Low Records motherfuckerBringin the best to the tableBluechip, Nina B, {?}, what it isJT Get Low motherfucker that's what it is motherfuckerYeah, who fuckin with us niggaNow (what goes around comes around)I'm puttin this clique up nigga against all you niggazNow get it right
[Verse One: Bluechip]Hey yo, this is where I see me in this gameBenz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got your bitch all in the RangeAnd y'all niggaz ain't gon' do shit, soon as your crew spitMy tool spit, metal to your side, watch you lose hipsAnd I ain't want to take it there but fuck it we can bangMy Cali headbusters'll show you how to throw them thingsI'm too connected like John Gotti and NinoFor a small fee they find your body wreakin out in RenoI know the niggaz that sell weight, and niggaz that stick the niggazthat sell weight, hammer close behind me like when you tailgateI know you a snitch, I can see it in your eyesShackled up, D.O.C.'s, all my niggaz on that rideYou can, stunt if you wanna, Chip is a gunnerBeen 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 meI'm runnin you out of office you're softer than Bush and CheneyGo 'head, and try to play me I do you like I was Amy FisherSmokin a Swisher like I wish a bitch wouldListen and use your vision cause livin in this - hoodAnd sinnin in your division you think it's all - goodGot niggaz on (Death Row) and it ain't about SugeNiggaz that stay home they scared to come out shookMothers with five kids and all of 'em got tookIt's right in these niggaz face, but they just will not lookI'm tired, of the B.S. I'm cheatin {?} some rejectsEven though we make the best of what little respect, we getThis is the life, that was given to meA rich-ass bitch that's what I'm fittin to beBrooklyn to Bangkok I'm beggin to beAnd don't nobody write, what I'm spittin but meNina B
[Chorus: JT]We 'bout to blow this bitchNiggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, whatWe 'bout to blow this bitchNiggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, whatUnderground with it, poppin collars nowBust yo' shit nigga, put them guns downPut yo' knuckles up, catch you slippin dawgThat's how we do it independent now we 'bout to ball
[Verse Three]For years niggaz sold me dreams that got me gassedMade me want to get revenge or get the hockey maskGot beef? Yo the burner's in the lobby stashedGet your crew if you want, all them niggaz is probably assI take the long way, fuck takin the shortcutNow we got corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour busA quick 32, yo them shits is like warmupsIt ain't coincidental in the hood we was born toughYou chump or get chumped, punk or get punkedSave your lil' craps homey, fuck it get drunkWas one at the top, but now I'm back at the bottomMost 'em hate to spit with me cause when I rap I surprise 'emShit is real, that's why I stay strapped with a condomI keep 31 flavors just like Baskin & RobbinsI'm here now, y'all supposed to be stressed, scared to deaththat you gonna be next, record labels, promote the rejectsWhile starvin artists is closest to setsAnd certain niggaz duckin me because they owe me a checkI spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y'all niggaz know the deallySo turn the music up and roll a Philly
[Verse Four: JT]Yeah, roll the Philly or Swisher SweetAnd I ain't trippin while you niggaz just stand on your feetFiggaro done walked in the building, it's time to expandComin with hundreds of grands and hundreds of plansYou see this Black Wall Street is for the po' broke and hongryNone of my niggaz on the corner never be lonelyStuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like TonyBricks and pounds of weed half the city owe meMy shipment too big, frontin out the homiesI ain't even trippin mayne my pockets never lonelyBenjamin Franklins and Grants stick together likeBoys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh
Yeah mayne, it's real shit nigga and we independent niggaFuck what'chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at niggaFuck all your major labels nigga, that's what it isJT the Bigga Figga, Nina B [fades out]
[Verse One: Bluechip]Hey yo, this is where I see me in this gameBenz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got your bitch all in the RangeAnd y'all niggaz ain't gon' do shit, soon as your crew spitMy tool spit, metal to your side, watch you lose hipsAnd I ain't want to take it there but fuck it we can bangMy Cali headbusters'll show you how to throw them thingsI'm too connected like John Gotti and NinoFor a small fee they find your body wreakin out in RenoI know the niggaz that sell weight, and niggaz that stick the niggazthat sell weight, hammer close behind me like when you tailgateI know you a snitch, I can see it in your eyesShackled up, D.O.C.'s, all my niggaz on that rideYou can, stunt if you wanna, Chip is a gunnerBeen 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 meI'm runnin you out of office you're softer than Bush and CheneyGo 'head, and try to play me I do you like I was Amy FisherSmokin a Swisher like I wish a bitch wouldListen and use your vision cause livin in this - hoodAnd sinnin in your division you think it's all - goodGot niggaz on (Death Row) and it ain't about SugeNiggaz that stay home they scared to come out shookMothers with five kids and all of 'em got tookIt's right in these niggaz face, but they just will not lookI'm tired, of the B.S. I'm cheatin {?} some rejectsEven though we make the best of what little respect, we getThis is the life, that was given to meA rich-ass bitch that's what I'm fittin to beBrooklyn to Bangkok I'm beggin to beAnd don't nobody write, what I'm spittin but meNina B
[Chorus: JT]We 'bout to blow this bitchNiggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, whatWe 'bout to blow this bitchNiggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, whatUnderground with it, poppin collars nowBust yo' shit nigga, put them guns downPut yo' knuckles up, catch you slippin dawgThat's how we do it independent now we 'bout to ball
[Verse Three]For years niggaz sold me dreams that got me gassedMade me want to get revenge or get the hockey maskGot beef? Yo the burner's in the lobby stashedGet your crew if you want, all them niggaz is probably assI take the long way, fuck takin the shortcutNow we got corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour busA quick 32, yo them shits is like warmupsIt ain't coincidental in the hood we was born toughYou chump or get chumped, punk or get punkedSave your lil' craps homey, fuck it get drunkWas one at the top, but now I'm back at the bottomMost 'em hate to spit with me cause when I rap I surprise 'emShit is real, that's why I stay strapped with a condomI keep 31 flavors just like Baskin & RobbinsI'm here now, y'all supposed to be stressed, scared to deaththat you gonna be next, record labels, promote the rejectsWhile starvin artists is closest to setsAnd certain niggaz duckin me because they owe me a checkI spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y'all niggaz know the deallySo turn the music up and roll a Philly
[Verse Four: JT]Yeah, roll the Philly or Swisher SweetAnd I ain't trippin while you niggaz just stand on your feetFiggaro done walked in the building, it's time to expandComin with hundreds of grands and hundreds of plansYou see this Black Wall Street is for the po' broke and hongryNone of my niggaz on the corner never be lonelyStuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like TonyBricks and pounds of weed half the city owe meMy shipment too big, frontin out the homiesI ain't even trippin mayne my pockets never lonelyBenjamin Franklins and Grants stick together likeBoys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh
Yeah mayne, it's real shit nigga and we independent niggaFuck what'chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at niggaFuck all your major labels nigga, that's what it isJT the Bigga Figga, Nina B [fades out]
