The Game - Mama Knows lyrics

rate me

Mama told me stay away from them niggas

Mama told me she had a K for them niggas

Mama told me she go to pay for them niggas

While my grandmother told me that she would pray for them niggas

They just young black and ignorant

Lusting over models and the Benjamins

Got the game twisted like (what?) licorice

When I was rocking lottos moving packs in front of McDonalds

She was looking for me, pulled up in that Old El Dorado

I was running around with Chase, chasing new black wheels

Why would I do that still? That's what got 2Pac killed...

But I use that still cause I won't do that deal

Screw the muzzle in potatoes of that new Mac Mill

What did I learn? Nothing

My papa smoking sherm blunts and

Beating on my moms like her head was a percussion

Tat! Tat! My.45 knocking on your window

She said there would be days like this, Pharrell, drop the instrumental

Yezzir...

I know I must go and I don't know my way

Still don't know where we all came from

Crack a Swisher, crack a 5th up

Hennessy pouring like Niagara Falls

Used to watch Magic, he showed me how to ball

Moms working late night, to get a plate right

Had some older brothers, all we did was smoke and play-fight

Wish I could go back to them days cause streets don't play right

Some niggas hard, other niggas was the Kid N Play type

Didn't stop me from pretending I was Apollo from Rocky

Working on my dip-game, now nobody wanna box me

Pick and choose, stick and move

So many dudes ended up in sleeping bags on late-night news

But not my mama's song, going around the hood serving customers

She yapping in my ear, but it's louder than the muffler

What I didn't listen to, I wish I would've trusted her

Wish I had a shovel, be digging both of my brothers up

Like "here hug em ma, one last time"

Put a chain on both of them niggas, they get one last shine

Put your block down, recognize a king cause it's my town

Word to my mother you can throw up your rock now

Got off the beef shit cause I ain't tryna see my mama in all-black

Right there, crying over hard facts

Now she gotta turn in all her cars and get her house back

Never! She carried me for 9 months so she can have whatever

Plus she taught me how to shoot Berettas, told me that I'd be a king

So RIP to Coretta, if you don't understand that

Then refer to my letter, while I sprinkle

Niggas with platinum, from my last album

Got the check, so I signed on the X like Malcolm

Riding through the hood, you hating niggas like "how come? "

That niggas Game got it, heard he selling talcum

Either way, hey playboy, check it, this is the outcome

You might not like it, but my mama psychic

Why you niggas twisted like the top of a Sidekick?