The Purge

[Produced by Cozmo] [Intro: Stacy Barthe] We are dying, we are dying Are we gonna die? Are we gonna die? We are dying [Verse 1: Game] Light a blunt, throw on Nas, collect my thoughts Blow the candles out as I contemplate in the dark Dumpin' ashes on the fuckin' 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 fuckers listenin' Feel that you can take their life cause they ain't got a pot to piss in Raise the Christian, kill you for these kids as victims Fuck the system You give a kid 30 cent and think you sponsor somethin'? I feed a village by myself nigga 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) [Verse 2: Game] What if we ran through Beverley Hills, got 70 kills 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 fucker rapin' women in Purge niggas killin' 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 deaths ain't in vein now Crash my ass, niggas know who shot that plane down Two hundred and ninety eight innocent lives severed Flyin' on Aaliyah's wings all the way to heaven And so we Purge [Hook] [Verse 3: Game] Imagine going to the stores without cops harrasing Imagine Mike Brown walkin', them same cops just passed '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 fuckin 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 killer Murder all the cops, then the cops will probably stop killin' On my knees prayin', wish my nigga Pac was livin' But he fell victim to the Rampart Division, purge Cops killed Biggie, cops beat up Rodney King We tore up the city nigga, purge Or just stand there like J. Cole And shoot at cops in the same spot till the case closed, purge [Hook] [Outro: Game] This song is dedicated, to my engineer Jus' wife, Carey Jean who passed away June 28th at 1.45 pm to stomach cancer, 2 days before my son Harlem's 11th birthday. Crazy how he mournin' his wife's death and I'm celebrating my son's life. I'll never understand death, shit. Sometimes it's a struggle to understand life, shit 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 killers, what's keepin' us alive. It's a question nobody got the answer to. So PURGE!