Mama Knows
by Game

Album: The R.E.D. Album (2011)
  • Mama told me to 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
    But my grandmother told me that she would pray for them niggas
    They just young black and ignorant lusting over models and them Benjamins

    Got the game twisted (like what?) licorice
    When I was rocking lottos moving packs up on 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 sure and bluffin'
    Beating on my moms like her head was a percussion
    Tat-tat my four five knocking on your window
    She said there would be days like this
    Pharrell, drop the instrumental

    Yes sir

    [Chorus: x2]
    I know I must go and I don't know my way
    Still somehow I know I'll end up where we all came from
    (From my mama's womb)

    Crack a Swisher, crack the fifther
    Hennessy pouring like Niagara Falls
    Used to watch Magic, he showed me how to ball
    Mom's 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
    But that 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 with sleeping bags on late-night news
    But not my mama's son, going around the hood for 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 nine months so she can have whatever
    Clever, she taught me how to shoot Berettas, told me that I'd be a king
    So R.I.P. 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, 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?



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