Lupe Fiasco - Game Time lyrics | LyricsFreak
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Game Time Lyrics

Lupe Fiasco – Game Time Lyrics

(Verse One: Lupe Fiasco)

As I gently pull up on the scene
I feel like ammunition for a sling shot
I'm trying to get triple sevens on my slot machine
And knuckle up with time like a ring watch
With no wings, hustle man, sitting in rubber band
A Dennis the Menace's weapon of choice with the windows of his soul
Dead intended on the tinted windows of a Rolls
Broken glass on the driver's seat of a Royce
Now how am I supposed to sit for Mister Wilson Drop a dime
Before another penny is spent on this game
Before I cough up the cost and invest another thought
I walk without my bucket of change
But I'm poor, materially speaking so
I can't be leaving this casino, with less than a c-note
Even if it takes a grand to get it I ride
Just to see that my Sedan has been vandalized

[Hook: Lupe Fiasco]

Game time, don't get caught up in the magic keep your brain right
Cause things ain't what they seem like
It don't matter what they say just get the name right
Now that's L as in little, and U as opposite of me
And P as in Pistol and E as in... E
Now players say that boy walking like a man
Treat you like you fam' and talking like a G

(Verse Two: Lupe Fiasco)

Now this is art, taylor made
Sharp, wrists'll kill razor blades
I do my part, chill like barber of Seville
Homie, it's like I'm paid to fade
Turn around and pay my dues with the wages made
Then I tip like what a waitress paid
I'm a ghetto super star
Hand prints chillin' and my name written where the pavement lay
Turn around and place my shoes where the name engraved
Then my game is played, 'till I'm rain delayed
Now that's my zone, far from an actor homes
Like a star map, this a G talking like Sesame Street
Referee the beats that I'm rapping on
They trying to de-rail my train of thought
But I'm Bruce Willis, ya'll don't feel it
While you break yourself like a car jack
This is hard black, like where my palms at


(Verse Three: Lupe Fiasco)
Now back to my scrap with time
My tat with the tickin', I make my fists
Wrap my wrist, leave the ring on, I could never get enough
Punch my clock
Clock my grip
Niggas tryin' to pull my card, stop my shift
Shift me to that graveyard and knock my hustle
They hope I Domino and free up my delivery
And at the same time mark my magnificence
I'm just trying to do the opposite of left
As long as there is the opposite of death
You test, and I might just bring the opposite of life
Till there's no one the opposite of right
As you bop down writer's block and can't find it...
I address, I correct
You a dress, I'm a pair of pants
I'm a Motorola, you just a pair of cans
Couple Coca Colas and a string
Playa I'm 'bout my green like Martian's skin
A sinner on a side-walk
They Wavin' to from the floats in a parade
The Saint's Go Marchin' In
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