Yeah
It's funny how the game change, right?
Shit feel all different
Y'all niggas complaining left and right about how the game feel all fucked up
Niggas only been talking like that since we been sitting out the game
I think the game need us kamal, let's talk to them niggas
Huh!
So many nights were spent pondering
Wondering how we gon' come again
My golden rule is not to focus on the fame game
In retrospect, the game ain't the same man
They heart and soul is divided
They ramshack the music, no control up inside it
Now, look at this, it's all stretched out and nasty
But, letting money pass me
I doubt that, and niggas from the bottom now
Pumping hard, wind sleet hail rain or snow
So, you got to get your gate right
No matter what, you got to treat your weight right
On the block if you focused on greed then
Nine out of ten times you be bleeding
The analogy is clear
To all of my peers, I'm a motherfucking vet
Don't mean to disrespect, 'cause
"I write rhymes, I write checks"
(It's clear) bust, hey yo what happened to the (love)
For the game (love) for the music (I need realness in my life)
Hey yo these niggas in the game don't sound the same
Bust, these niggas in the game don't sound the same
Hey yo what happened? (they ain't got in 'em to make a classic)
Hey yo what happened? (these niggas can't hold the torch, so why pass it)
Hey yo, I ain't bringing they names up
These niggas sound trash, straight fouling the game up
Need to change up (change up) sound so trash
When I see 'em feel like breaking they frame up
Dupont registry, talking 'bout somebody else cars
Motherfuckers better step up your bars
Instead of frontin in the game like niggas really are stars
Like we ain't seein through the bullshit, we know who you are
I'm like a blessing to the game when your shit sound dated
I force niggas to improve, you should be happy I made it
Here to rep the game fully, change my style like the weather
Giving you niggas new shit to make the game feel better
I'm saying, I cook in the kitchen and we make the thoughts connect
You forced to humble yourself, give me my big respect
You hurting the game when your shit sound off ya know
A legend in this shit that's why I move like a boss ya know
You better be tight, 'cause you can get tossed fo' sho'
Y'all niggas know whassup, I come correct with money long 'cause I
"I write rhymes, I write checks"
(It's clear) tip, hey yo what happened to the (love)
For the game (love) for the music (I need realness in my life)
Hey yo these niggas in the game don't sound the same
Yo, these niggas in the game don't sound the same
Hey yo what happened? (they ain't got in 'em to make a classic)
Hey yo what happened? (these niggas can't hold the torch, so why pass it)
Oh my god, they a (uh) come riding around
Some (uh) old dream and they (uh) can't get down
They (uh) looking around outside of themselves
And they (huh) saying things that ain't really themselves
And they (haha) keep fucking regurgitating the same script
Same hoes, same blow, same glock clip (ha)
Same drug strip, what the fuck is this? (uh)
C'mon y'all, raise the bar on this body, shit
You sound stagnant, need to progress and grow (uh-huh)
Upgrade your punchlines, progress the flow (uh-huh)
Get your concepts and lyrics together, hey yo (uh-huh)
Then drop the bomb shit to step up the pressure, ya know? (huh)
I'm tired of niggas complaining how the game changed
You niggas should step up your game, 'cause you sound strange
That's why you ain't selling no records, check the soundscan
In this rap shit I command respect motherfucker 'cause I
Hey yo these niggas in the game don't sound the same
Bust, these niggas in the game don't sound the same
Hey yo what happened? (they ain't got in 'em to make a classic)
Hey yo what happened? (these niggas can't hold the torch, so why pass it)
---
You Can't Hold the Torch - Busta Rhymes, Q-Tip and Chauncey Black/The Pirate
