The Game - My Life [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Intro: The Game]
Punk-ass motherfucker, checking shit
What you was gonna do, kill me in my sleep you bitch-ass nigga?
{*dogs still barking*} 2Pac, Biggie, shut the fuck up!
Fucking dogs, barking and shit (don't shoot, don't shoot!)
{*gun cocks, BLAM*} Fuck you nigga!

[Hook: Lil Wayne]
And I'm grindin til I'm tired
Cause they said you ain't grindin til you tired
So I'm grindin with my eyes wide, looking to find
A way through the day, a light for the night
Dear Lord: you done took so many of my people
I'm just wondering why you haven't taken my life
Like what the hell am I doing right?
My life

[Verse 1: The Game]
Take me away from the hood, like a state penitentiary
Take me away from the hood, in a casket or a Bentley
Take me away, like I overdosed on cocaine
Or take me away, like a bullet from Kurt Cobain
Suicide, I'm from a Windy City, like Do or Die
From a block close to where Biggie was crucified
That was Brooklyn's Jesus, shot for no fucking reason
And you wonder why Kanye wears Jesus pieces?
Cause that's Jesus, people - and Game, he's the equal
Hated on so much, "Passion of Christ" need a sequel
Yeah, like Roc-a-Fella needed Siegel
Like I needed my father, but he needed a needle
I need some meditation so I can lead my people
They asking why, why did John Lennon leave The Beatles?
And why every hood nigga feed off evil?
Answer my question fore this bullet leave this Desert Eagle

[Hook]

[Verse 2: The Game]
We are not the same, I am a Martian
So approach my Phantom doors with caution
You see them 24's spinning? I earned 'em
And I ain't no preacher but, here's my Erick Sermon
So eat this black music and tell me how it taste now
And fuck Jesse Jackson cause it ain't about race now
Sometimes I think about my life, with my face down
Then I see my sons and put on that Kanye smile
Damn, I know his mama proud
And since you helped me sell my dream we can share my momma now
And like M.J.B., no more drama now
Living the good life, me and Common on common ground
I spit crack, and niggas could drive it out of town
Got a Chris Paul mind state, I'm never out of bounds
My life used to be empty like a Glock without a round
Now my life full, like a chopper with a thousand rounds

[Hook]

[Verse 3: The Game]
Walk through the gates of hell, see my Impala parked in front
With the high beams on, me and the devil sharing chronic blunts
Listening to the Chronic album playing backwards
Shooting at pictures of Don Imus for target practice
My mind fucked up, so I cover it with a Raider hood
I'm from the city that made you motherfuckers afraid of Suge
{"Compton, Compton"} Made my grandmother pray for good
It never made her happy, but I bet that new Mercedes could
Ain't no bars, but niggas can't escape the hood
And it took so many of my niggas, that I should hate the hood
But it's real niggas like me that make the hood
Riding slow in that Phantom just the way I should
With the top back, in my Sox hat
I'm "Paid in Full", the nigga Alpo couldn't stop that
Even if they brought the nigga Pac back
I'll still keep this motherfucker cocked back