The Game - The Purge lyrics

(feat. Stacy Barthe) [Stacy Barthe:] We are dying, we are dying Are we gonna die? Are we gonna die? We are dying Light a blunt, throw on Nas, collect my thoughts Blow the candles out as I contemplate in the dark Dumpin' ashes on the f**in' Time magazine Tryna burn a hole between Israel and Palestine All this world news, all these dead bodies All these kids dying, the talk of illuminati As I'm murderin' ink, I get a call from Irv Gotti Say "Keep spittin' cause when you do it's like a 12-gauge shotty Got machetes and them cannons loaded up Got them Xany's and that lean in my cup These politician's can come up missin', I'm on a mission You hear them gun shots, now mother f**ers listenin' Feel that you can take their life cause they ain't got a pot to piss in Raise the Christian, k** you for these kids as victims f** the system You give a kid 30 cent and think you sponsor somethin'? I feed a village by myself n***a Compton comin' Purge [Hook - Stacy Barthe (Game):] We are dying, we are dying (Sometimes I wanna purge) We are dying (Sometimes I wanna purge) We are dying, some times I gotta purge (Sometimes I wanna) We're living on a purge (Sometimes I wanna) What if we ran through Beverley Hills, got 70 k**s Ridin' down Rodeo in the Chevy with pills And pop one, load 12 slugs in the eagle And shot one, Donald Sterling hopped in his Benz I got one, beam on the back of his dome Palm sweaty on the back of the chrome That's my adrenaline So we purge Sandusky, purge Zimmerman Purge every mother f**er rapin' women in Purge n***as k**in' kids, back to back in two vans Me and my mercenaries, middle of South Sudan Carryin' babies bodies, long as I got two hands Long as I got two feet, millions and my crew deep We purge for the families, they d**hs ain't in vein now Crash my a**, n***as know who shot that plane down 298 innocent lives severed Flyin' on Aaliyah's wings all the way to heaven And so we Purge [Hook] Imagine going to the stores without cops harrasing Imagine Mike Brown walkin', them same cops just pa**ed 'em I'm smokin' hash, and let me ash it before I talk in past tense I hope his mama tears is like acid to your f**in badges 2 shots in his brain, 4 in his fashion Thinkin' 'bout his casket in this Phantom, swear I almost crashed it That's why I'm headed to Ferguson with this German luger Cause I'm probably more like Nelson Mandela than Martin Luther More like Ice T than Ice Cube, I'm a cop k**er Murder all the cops, then the cops will probably stop k**in' On my knees prayin', wish my n***a Pac was livin' But he fell victim to the Rampart Division, purge Cops k**ed Biggie, cops beat up Rodney King We tore up the city n***a, purge Or just stand there like J. Cole and shoot at cops in the same spot till the case closed, purge [Hook] This song is dedicated, to my engineer Jus' wife, Carey Jean who pa**ed away June 28th at 1.45 pm to stomach cancer, 2 days before his son Harlem's 11th birthday. Crazy how he mournin' his wife's d**h and I'm celebrating my son's life. I'll never understand d**h, sh**. Sometimes it's a struggle to understand life, sh** crazy. I'll never understand. Can't stop fightin' to survive though, but what we fightin' for when we eventually all die though, purge. Eventually we all victims of the purge. Us k**ers, what's keepin' us alive. It's a question nobody got the answer to. So PURGE!