Let Us Live Lyrics - Chrisette Michele

[The Game] 

Yo I'm hoping out a Phantom with a' iced out medallion 

Stallions on both arms, rocks on both charms 

My Dominican chick looking like Scarface sister 

Red and curly and she wake me up early 

Cause hustlers hit the block when police change shifts 

New York, California different toilet, same shit 

In Brooklyn I rock Timberlands 

Still toast cinnamon 

Been gangster way before he dropped many men 

Liquor in my system, voice raspy who I sound like? 

Don't ask me that's my nigga we classy 

Him and Montega Jada our style superior to haters 

You can catch me in the latest Marvin Gaters 

Ralph Lauren suit tape it up fly cause I'm papered up 

Why these niggas keep hating on my Phantom 

I be out in Atlanta and body tapping I'm probably strapped 

Toast it up niggas 

[Chorus: Chrisette Michelle] 

All my hoods on the real dark side of the track 

No sunny sky's just really black 

We live real down here, Lord let us live 

No playing around here, Lord let us live 

Don't hate my hood just hate my shine 

We coming out we on our grind 

We live real down here, Lord let us live 

We coming outta here, Lord let us live 

[The Game] 

Now who the fuck want war with the human gun store? 

Gangsta rap is where I live just knock on the front door 

Niggas stunt more than Jackie Chan 

What the fuck them faggots saying? 

Nothing when I walk in the club with the gat in hand 

Take 'em back to '94 shooing out a Astro van 

Banging was the blueprint money was the master plan 

Duffel bag full of Grants and Franklins 

Rob niggas take they money shoot straight to the bank then 

Head to the barbershop to get chopped up 

Hearing war stories who dead and who locked up 

Who snitching, who pitching and who knocked up 

Fuck niggas in Black Wall Street I trust 

Black hoodies and black Asics standing on the pavement 

Hustlers don't sleep nigga we work the grave shift 

Fuck that long money nigga get paid quick 

And don't save shit 

[Chorus: Chrisette Michelle] 

Lord knows that money don't matter 

Lord knows that status is badder 

Lord knows about the hood I live in 

He's taking away but he's giving 

Now don't give me these cars 

Don't give me these mansions 

Don't hate me just let me ride, Lord just give me light 

[The Game] 

I don't hate Mobb Deep or M.O.P 

That was a phase I was caught up in the beef like a rat in a maze 

And my legacy will never be that of a hater 

Lyrical rhyme slayer wack niggas say your prayers 

It's the return of Gandhi 

Criminal minded city behind me 

Put it on my face to remind me 

Of all the shit I been through my physical presence, my pen too nice 

My first album sent you life 

I should of put down the mic when Rakim left Dre 

No cleanup hitter so I was stranded on second base 

I had to steal third motherfucker that's my word 

There's some Queens niggas try to put me back on the curb 

I was ultimate warrior to you bully ass niggas 

I will come through the hood with the fully axe niggas 

Like Snoop or Suge I'm in the coupe I'm good 

Mothafuckas make way 

[Chorus: Chrisette Michelle] 

[The Game] 

Is that Michelle Chrisette 

Black Wall, Coollie High, Scott Storch, let's ride '08 to infinity 

California, New York 

Scott Storch, Scott Storch...