Lyrics Long Live Da Game - T.I.

YEA.
Dis for all my niggaz who think dey hard.
You wanna know whats hard(whats hard pimp?)
Goin about yo day nigga losin yo life at the end of it
Now dats whats hard...(MINDING MY MUTHAFUCKING BUSINESS)
Let me tell yall bout the last day I lived nigga
I'm in the 96 Impala with the gat in my lap
Annihilating any nigga tryin to work in my trap
Now see the feds got me tap'd
So to keep 'em off of my bac
I got a crib in the trap and a crib to relax
Now my indictment was a secret and thats the way that they keep it
If I aint have a hoe givin head to the feds
Comin bac tellin me exactly what they said
I'm a dead man walkin.
Waitin on time in jail
But I'll die before I let 'em stop my mail
Long as I got another ounce to sell
What the hell I'ma bail? a grap my scale
Get another key and I'ma slang my yayo
Niggaz on the westside cant re-up becuz its a drought
So I check the crack house.
DAMN it sold out
So back to the crib so I can check this stash
Aint sure about how much dope I had
Got a couple keyz in the safe right now
Weigh it up cook it up then chop it down
Now I'm ready to go and pick up my fetti
But before I leave the house I cant dip without grabbin my G'z
And my keyz to my brand new V put 'em in pocket with the gat to see
Niggaz pleeze nigga you holla bout freeze
Put this red dot to ya ass and squeeze
Now I'm dippin bac to the swats
With the 4-4 and a plastic glock
Turned around and I had to stop
Couldnt trap swarn it wuz cops
Standin there and I still aint scared
Mac Boney nem must have fled
Only cops is I fear is the feds
On my car flashin blue and red
Damn there dey go now its time to dip
Got the 4-4 right my hip
9 millimeter wit a extra clip
Dats what yall niggaz get fuckin round wit TIP
Bustin at 'em
N cussin at 'em but aint no shakin 'em
Them bullets dat they wuz bustin at me my vest wuz takin 'em
Makin dem pigs fall in pain
Turned around cuz one call my name
Took a hot one to the brain
Yea I died but LONG LIVE THA GAME.