Game Ain’t Changed

By AZ

On G.O.D. (Gold, Oil & Diamonds)

Released on June 30, 2009

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[Verse 1]

Return of the [?] verbal flame thrower

Champagne rover, patron hangover

Low sofa, leather, high ceiling lofts

Cheddar, gold tokers designed with the frost

The boss, [?] squeeze on no civilians

Chameleon, knock niggas off in the cold building

[?] Brownsville, L.A. houses

Lived disciples [?] bammers, grace towers

We raise hours of power, pass on traditions

Never no cowards into rap with the friction

Condition, hood pass, vouch free admission

Listen, it's either or subtract or addition

Position to move like the [?] on the board

Right palm placed on the book of the Lord

Recite songs when niggas get took to the morgue

Embalmed in box, either you armed or not


[Chorus]

The game ain't changed, just the names of the playas

The mayor, street smart set apart the stayers

No favors, every man standing in for self

What else, niggas ain't heard, niggas is felt

The game ain't changed, just the names of the playas


[Verse 2]

There's special units set up for niggas doing this

Some niggas is groomed in it, other niggas just ruin shit

Who the snitch telling, knocking niggas for nothing

Since they chick is on another nigga dick and she fuckin

It's disgusting, so now you really know I'm ducking

To the desert, knees freezing, I'm begging for a reason

Got eleven little heathens and they certified demons

I'm pleading, please no involving the policemen

We beefing, the silence is the cold when you creeping

Sleeping, I'm seeking for something to sink my teeth in

It's murder [?] the Monday, be back before the weekend

Beast in, feel like homie when he high

Macaroni till I die, you only got one try


[Chorus]

The game ain't changed, just the names of the playas

The mayor, street smart set apart the stayers

No favors, every man standing in for self

What else, niggas ain't heard, niggas is felt

The game ain't changed, just the names of the playas


[Verse 3]

Mary go round, here we go round

From every angle hitting me like stereo sound

Chit chatting, laying my scenario down

Manhattan, Boogie Down, they all yapping in the town

Bodied little homie, he's now buried in the ground

So many tears, the nigga could have drowned

So many years, went from hopping on the hound

To hopping in the coupe, guess they rocking for the crown

King of the city, it's a thing when you pretty

And feel like Nitty, he was here right with me

Knew it had to happen, but who did the clapping?

Knew when he was [?] the names ain't matching

Mad ain't the word, had to spaz on a bird

Know the sound on a curb, had to blast on a herb

Kill me a nigga, it's quiet as a whisper

You slide like a slipper, damn a nigga miss ya