Letter To King - Game (instrumental)

Confessions

[The Game]

Second floor of my hotel, I'm rollin' up bout to blaze

And zone out, to this Frankie Beverly and Maze

As I daze about the past, and them days in the past

He set my mom free, so my mom free at last

So much that I don't even drink from a fuckin' glass

I'd rather find the first fountain I can and do it fast

Didn't understand the dream of a King, do the math

Coincidentally on your birthdays I ditched the class

Cause the younger me, dumber me was chasin' the cash

Chasin' the ass, lowlife with his face in the grass

Ridin' home from school, in front of the bus

Not even thinkin' bout how Rosa Parks done it for us

How she stayed behind bars and she done it for us

And she stayed behind bars 'til she won it for us

Sometimes I wanna give up or at least take a break

That's when I close my eyes and see Coretta Scott's face...

Cause sometimes I wanna give up and at least take a break

That's when I close my eyes and see Coretta Scott's face...

[singing]

[Nas]

Standin' at the pew, panaramic view of the seating and greeting

I've been meanin' to do me some letter reading

to the King, he forever breathin', your message is never leavin'

Some of your homies phonies, I should've said it when I see them

Them sleazy bastards, some greedy pastors, jerks

Should never be aloud at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta

So people be patient, I know this ghetto grammar

But I'm a street dude, normally I just speak rude

Martin Luther, the martyr, the trooper, hate killed him

Nobel Peace Prize winner, they duplicate your feelin'

As a kid I ain't relate really

I would say your dream speech jokingly, 'til your world awoke in me

First I thought you were passive, soft one who ass kissed

I was young but honest, I was feelin' Muhammad

I ain't even know the strength you had to have the march

You was more than just talk, you the first real Braveheart, we miss you...

Feel like King be in me sometimes

[singing]

[The Game]

The word nigger, is nothin' like nigga

Don't sound shit alike - like Game, like Jigga

One came before the other, like aim and pull the trigga

One is slang for my brother, one is hang and take a picture

The rope ain't tight enough, he still alive, go fix it

Pour some gasoline on him, call his daughters black bitches

Make 'em pick cotton, while they mama cleanin' up the kitchen

Same cotton in white T's, that's the cotton they was pickin'

If Dr. King marched today would Bill Gates march?

I know Obama would but would Hilary take part?

Great minds think great thoughts

The pictures I paint, make the Mona Lisa look like fake art

I feel the pain of Nelson Mandela

Cause when it rains it pours, I need Rihanna's "Umbrella"

for Coretta Scott's tear drops, when she got the phone call

that the future just took a fuckin' head shot...

I wonder why Jesse Jackson ain't catch him before his body dropped

Would he give me the answer? Probably not...

[singing]