The Game: Letter yo the king

(feat. Nas)[The Game]Second floor of my hotel, I'm rollin' up bout to blazeAnd zone out, to this Frankie Beverly and MazeAs I daze about the past, and them days in the pastHe set my mom free, so my mom free at lastSo much that I don't even drink from a fuckin' glassI'd rather find the first fountain I can and do it fastDidn't understand the dream of a King, do the mathCoincidentally on your birthdays I ditched the classCause the younger me, dumber me was chasin' the cashChasin' the ass, lowlife with his face in the grassRidin' home from school, in front of the busNot even thinkin' bout how Rosa Parks done it for usHow she stayed behind bars and she done it for usAnd she stayed behind bars 'til she won it for usSometimes I wanna give up or at least take a breakThat's when I close my eyes and see Coretta Scott's face... Cause sometimes I wanna give up and at least take a breakThat's when I close my eyes and see Coretta Scott's face... [singing][Nas]Standin' at the pew, panaramic view of the seating and greetingI've been meanin' to do me some letter readingto the King, he forever breathin', your message is never leavin'Some of your homies phonies, I should've said it when I see themThem sleazy bastards, some greedy pastors, jerksShould never be aloud at Ebenezer Baptist Church in AtlantaSo people be patient, I know this ghetto grammarBut I'm a street dude, normally I just speak rudeMartin Luther, the martyr, the trooper, hate killed himNobel Peace Prize winner, they duplicate your feelin'As a kid I ain't relate reallyI would say your dream speech jokingly, 'til your world awoke in meFirst I thought you were passive, soft one who ass kissedI was young but honest, I was feelin' MuhammadI ain't even know the strength you had to have the marchYou was more than just talk, you the first real Braveheart, we miss you... Feel like King be in me sometimes[singing][The Game]The word nigger, is nothin' like niggaDon't sound shit alike - like Game, like JiggaOne came before the other, like aim and pull the triggaOne is slang for my brother, one is hang and take a pictureThe rope ain't tight enough, he still alive, go fix itPour some gasoline on him, call his daughters black bitchesMake 'em pick cotton, while they mama cleanin' up the kitchenSame cotton in white T's, that's the cotton they was pickin'If Dr. King marched today would Bill Gates march?I know Obama would but would Hilary take part?Great minds think great thoughtsThe pictures I paint, make the Mona Lisa look like fake artI feel the pain of Nelson MandelaCause when it rains it pours, I need Rihanna's "Umbrella"for Coretta Scott's tear drops, when she got the phone callthat the future just took a fuckin' head shot... I wonder why Jesse Jackson ain't catch him before his body droppedWould he give me the answer? Probably not... [singing]