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مجلة شهرية عربية عالمية , مجلة البيلسان

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العنوان : شارع

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كلمات الأغاني الأجنبية

The Game Lyrics The Purge Lyrics

[Stacy Barthe:]
We are dying we are dying
Are we gonna die? Are we gonna die?
We are dying

Light a blunt throw on Nas collect my thoughts
Blow the candles out as I contemplate in the dark
Dumpin ashes on the f*ckin Time magazine
Tryna burn a hole between Israel and Palestine
All this world news all these dead bodies
All these kids dying the talk of illuminati
As Im murderin ink I get a call from Irv Gotti
Say Keep spittin cause when you do its like a 12-gauge shotty
Got machetes and them cannons loaded up
Got them Xanys and that lean in my cup
These politicians can come up missin Im on a mission
You hear them gun shots now mother f*ckers listenin
Feel that you can take their life cause they aint got a pot to piss in
Raise the Christian kill you for these kids as victims
F*ck the system
You give a kid 30 cent and think you sponsor somethin?
I feed a village by myself nigga Compton comin

[Hook - Stacy Barthe (Game):]
We are dying we are dying
(Sometimes I wanna purge)
We are dying
(Sometimes I wanna purge)
We are dying some times I gotta purge
(Sometimes I wanna)
Were living on a purge
(Sometimes I wanna)

What if we ran through Beverley Hills got 70 kills
Ridin down Rodeo in the Chevy with pills
And pop one load 12 slugs in the eagle
And shot one Donald Sterling hopped in his Benz
I got one beam on the back of his dome
Palm sweaty on the back of the chrome
Thats my adrenaline
So we purge Sandusky purge Zimmerman
Purge every mother f*cker rapin women in
Purge niggas killin kids back to back in two vans
Me and my mercenaries middle of South Sudan
Carryin babies bodies long as I got two hands
Long as I got two feet millions and my crew deep
We purge for the families they deaths aint in vein now
Crash my ass niggas know who shot that plane down
298 innocent lives severed
Flyin on Aaliyahs wings all the way to heaven
And so we Purge


Imagine going to the stores without cops harrasing
Imagine Mike Brown walkin them same cops just passed em
Im smokin hash and let me ash it before I talk in past tense
I hope his mama tears is like acid to your f*ckin badges
2 shots in his brain 4 in his fashion
Thinkin bout his casket in this Phantom swear I almost crashed it
Thats why Im headed to Ferguson with this German luger
Cause Im probably more like Nelson Mandela than Martin Luther
More like Ice T than Ice Cube Im a cop killer
Murder all the cops then the cops will probably stop killin
On my knees prayin wish my nigga Pac was livin
But he fell victim to the Rampart Division purge
Cops killed Biggie cops beat up Rodney King
We tore up the city nigga purge
Or just stand there like J. Cole and shoot at cops in the same spot till the case closed purge


This song is dedicated to my engineer Jus wife Carey Jean who passed away June 28th at 1.45 pm to stomach cancer 2 days before his son Harlems 11th birthday. Crazy how he mournin his wifes death and Im celebrating my sons life. Ill never understand death shit. Sometimes its a struggle to understand life shit crazy. Ill never understand. Cant stop fightin to survive though but what we fightin for when we eventually all die though purge. Eventually we all victims of the purge. Us killers whats keepin us alive. Its a question nobody got the answer to. So PURGE!

الأقسام الرئيسية