Текст песни: The Game Is Cold + перевод

It’s me and Coleone at the pound on perk

Wanna hit the stripper spot, maybe knock us some work

It’s been a minute, I’m in it still down to ride

98 Nav' with the screens inside

Hoes wanna roll, bitches know we go big

A car full of dope, nigga sittin' on six

Big like a gat, so now my mack stay low

With no DL so I bails from fifth-0

I’m hittin' corners, blocks, driveways and alleys

Whitewall’s and Rally’s dippin' up and down Cali

Might hit the spot, and wanna get down tough

A bag full of kush and a sack of the duff

You had enough? You know the staff was down to hurt her

The bitch was a groupie hoe, just fucked C-Murder

And I’m a motherfucker dick that’s Platinum and Gold

It ain’t my fault, that’s what I was taught, the game is cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

The game is cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

The game is cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

The game is cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

Guess who’s back in the motherfuckin' house

With a fat sack and a dick for your mouth

Nigga comin' back with hoes, money and clout

And tryin' to show y’all what this shit is really about

Now, I can kick it with B or light up the heat

Or holler at P, turn up the beat

Bangin' the fo', the low-low that is

Or slang dodo or coco, fo' sho' that is

But I ain’t even trippin' no more

I’m like the Six Million Dollar Man, nigga in slow-mo

Go bro, take this shit as far as ya ever been

Shit I’m tryin' to go places, ain’t no nigga never been

But then, niggas steady tryin' to twist me

In the pen I got the whole Crip card with me

Come get me, y’all niggas know where I’m at

Ain’t No Limit to this shit, just know that

Nigga know that, we show that

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

The game is cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

The game is cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

The game is cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

Up early in the mornin', dressed in black

I’m to the dope track to get the dope sack

Blowin', it’s Mr. Bill Clinton of Vallejo, California

With no warnin' shots, just thought I’d warn ya

I used to campaign, sold D in the rain

Came Mother’s Day, gave chickens away

Now where I stay, in the Yay, be on the under

Shit be like a jungle, sometimes it make we wonder

By the summer, fuck a Hummer, I ball a 'Burban

If niggas don’t get it together, it’s curtains

I’m certain, we all hurtin', all want a piece

But if you fiddle with mine I turn savage beast

Leave you creased nigga, like you stole somethin'

People tell me «Legit, you’s a cold somethin»

Fuck fightin' and frontin', and bustin' over nothin'

That’s how they fold, the game be cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

The game be cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

The game be cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

The game be cold

(«I'm goin' in they mouth, down they throat»)

The game be cold

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