Testo della canzone True Colors / It's On (The Game), tratta dall'album 1992 (Deluxe Edition)

True Colors / It's On - The Game

This ain't nothing, nigga
All this gang banging shit
It ain't nothing, homie, it ain't nothing
I'd give it up homie
I'm in this shit for a purpose, man
I got a reason, dude, to get up out of this shit, nigga
All that shit ain't nothing, homie
Ask yourself; what color is the flag? (Red, white, and blue)
Yup, red, white, and blue
Now, what two colors are, did we pick? I'm talking about we as black people
What two colors? Think about it
We picked red and blue
What's left? White (damn right, nigga, we killing each other, homie)

I am a nightmare walkin', psychopath talkin'
King of my jungle, just a gangster stalkin'
Livin' life like a firecracker, quick is my fuse
Then dead as a deathpack the colors I choose
Red or blue, cuz or blood, it just don't matter

My daddy was from Nutty Blocc, my uncle was from Nutty Blocc
My mama was from Hoover, how she end up here cuttin' rock?
Four year old on her lap, that was my older sister
Photos of Tookie and my father, now you get the picture
Cutlass outside on D's, you think it wasn't
15 inches, had Computer Love, subbin'
My parents 'bout to see Rocky at the Compton Drive-In
Halfway through the movie, her stomach start throbbin'

My pops start panickin', moms in the passenger seat
Scared of contractions so she's stiff as a mannequin
Pops put the car in reverse and then skrt'd out
"Drive motherfucker" them the words my mom blurted out
80 down Wilmington, pull up at Killer King
Rush my mama to her room and let the doctor do his thing
Was a whole lotta blood, yeah, I was born in it
Gang bangin' my family got torn in it, all over

Colors, colors, colors, colors, colors
My colors, colors, colors, colors, colors (yeah boy!)
Colors, colors, colors, colors, colors
My colors, colors, colors, colors, colors (yeah boy!)

Jordan got drafted to the Bulls, '85 here
My Uncle Greg sniffin' cocaine off my high chair
Mama in the kitchen cookin', pops on the couch baggin'
Cousin's loadin' Louis Vuitton duffles in the Station Wagon
Fiends walkin' in and out my house in old Nikes
Pops used to tell me, "Son, don't you ever be like me
The Bloods want to kill me, the cops'll never catch me
And when you gang bangin', life's shorter than Joe Pesci"

Then one night, my pops came home off heroin
Shit changed, I'm glad my mama didn't marry him
Molested my sister that night 'cause she was scared
I was too young to help her and my brothers wasn't there
It was late night, 2:00 a.m., my mother at work
My sister came back up the stairs and it was blood on her shirt
Blood on her face, blood on her hands, blood on her legs
Turned on the light and everything was red
I'm surrounded by

Colors, colors, colors, colors, colors
My colors, colors, colors, colors, colors (yeah boy!)
Colors, colors, colors, colors, colors
My colors, colors, colors, colors, colors (yeah boy!)

Seven years passed, now a lil' nigga seein' things
Playin' with them birds like Magic, we was the dream team
Posted up on the block, I had that Hakeem lean
Watchin' '64s hop my nigga, no green screen
Walkin' from the Tanas to the Cedars with my eyes closed
Red bandana in my pocket, how you hide those?
Larry Nickel's crack spot, my brother got me servin'
Couldn't cook, burnin' holes in my Dennis Rodman jersey

Then a nigga turned Pippen on these niggas, 40 sippin' on these niggas
If you Crippin', we was trippin' on you nigga
But the Crips would never lay down, they thought that it was they town
We thought it was ours so we would empty out the trey pounds
Ditched school especially since it was an all Crip school
I'm lucky I'm alive, but would you be if bullets hit you?
26 dead homies and 2 dead brothers
Compton is a cold motherfucker, niggas dyin' over

Colors, colors, colors, colors, colors
My colors, colors, colors, colors, colors (yeah boy!)
Colors, colors, colors, colors, colors
My colors, colors, colors (yeah boy!)

It's on, I take the flag out my pocket
Wrap it around my knuckles, make a fist and lock it
It's on, I take the flag out my pocket
Wrap it around my knuckles, make a fist and lock it
It's on, I take the flag out my pocket
Wrap it around my knuckles, make a fist and lock it
It's on, I take the flag out my pocket
Wrap it around my knuckles, make a fist and lock it (yeah)

These rappers gimmicks, fuck an image
Straight out of Baldwin Village
If it's any real activity, I'm in it, in the midst of the fiction
Still had a vision, look, I never gave up
Game put me on this song and I fucked around and came up
I'm Jungles, most my niggas gone so I'ma do it for them
Antman, Nightmare, B.S.I.P., Tiny M
It's a struggle first, blessin' last
Like I've been hittin' licks all my life and I passed

Kept it active for my son, he know his daddy ain't a bitch
Been bangin' all my life, now I'm just tryna get rich
This shit is drastic, my flow bashin' on rappers I'm flowin' after
The cabbage is all that matters, I'm laughin', these niggas cowards
It's Osbe, gang bangin' is my hobby
Except my model cars, it's a fuckin' dead body
I'm from The Jungles, all the homies call me Barzan
Loadin' up the clips and hoppin' out them stolen cars and

It's on, I take the flag out my pocket



Credits
Writer(s): Jayceon Taylor, Stanley Benton, Uforo Ebong, Cash Jones
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