The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
Better get it while the gettin' is good
Get it while you can, man
And stop hatin' me, fuckin' with my shit 'cuz I got more hustle than you
Get yours, get yours baby
I'm seeing millions, niggaz don't understand
Know what? I'm makin' moves, puttin' cash behind plans to blow up
Will he style like this everyday I parlay
Sip Henne and Tanqueray stay in the mix like Alezay
V.I.P., my shit parked valet
On the prowl again to get honies familiar with the smile again
Some try to assault Dre, it's still cavi
I'm eatin' steak while they struggle to break the slave mentality
I givin' livin' definition long as my hearts tickin'
I fought and made the world listen
Whatever fly Dr. Dre invented, turn on the box
And let my son watch these studio clowns on 60 inches
I push a rover, shit platinum before the sessions over
Rap master with the Houston heat holder
These playas best to get they shit in check
I get my hustle on ain't no playin' with a full deck
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
Buck the whole world, meant that, gotta stay strapped
'Cuz 99.9 a niggaz, carry they gats
Super fist fightin' shit might come down to dyin'
When the time comes down for the tryin' I got nine
Reasons why niggaz shouldn't step in my face
With the nonsense, 'cause I'm always heated and you can taste this
Audi little something out the seams a my trousers
With no hesitation I got a team to come clown ya
I down ya, so let your people know what they face
With the type of individual that'll bomb a sub-station
Kaboom and everybody dies outside
There ain't no escapin' the Reaper so don't try
Go ahead, close ya eyes, who the next to step?
Face down, hit, bleedin' on the steps a death
Check yo self, you just been invaded by true soldiers
December 31st, 96
(The game is over)
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
(I've got all my life to live, plus with all my love to give)
Smokin' weed I never trail, I lead
Spendin' dough, tripped the cost of a ride
Like it was pocket money, Gs
But these are the things real playas do
Talkin' shit is real things that the hatas do
I'm namin' you, shit's thick, it's time to run for shelter
I kept the word, things could happen to marks
Like it was helter skelter
Dear diary, I'm runnin' outta pages
Fadin', in and out, takin' purple hazes
The dazes, Revelations in the last stages
Red skys institute, the silent horns playin'
I'm prayin' with tears in my eyes
'Cuz I'm tryin to make it into eternal peace without dyin'
But they eyein' my bank account with beams on my rover
The killa failed to launch his attack
(The game is over)
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
Get it while you can, man
And stop hatin' me, fuckin' with my shit 'cuz I got more hustle than you
Get yours, get yours baby
I'm seeing millions, niggaz don't understand
Know what? I'm makin' moves, puttin' cash behind plans to blow up
Will he style like this everyday I parlay
Sip Henne and Tanqueray stay in the mix like Alezay
V.I.P., my shit parked valet
On the prowl again to get honies familiar with the smile again
Some try to assault Dre, it's still cavi
I'm eatin' steak while they struggle to break the slave mentality
I givin' livin' definition long as my hearts tickin'
I fought and made the world listen
Whatever fly Dr. Dre invented, turn on the box
And let my son watch these studio clowns on 60 inches
I push a rover, shit platinum before the sessions over
Rap master with the Houston heat holder
These playas best to get they shit in check
I get my hustle on ain't no playin' with a full deck
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
Buck the whole world, meant that, gotta stay strapped
'Cuz 99.9 a niggaz, carry they gats
Super fist fightin' shit might come down to dyin'
When the time comes down for the tryin' I got nine
Reasons why niggaz shouldn't step in my face
With the nonsense, 'cause I'm always heated and you can taste this
Audi little something out the seams a my trousers
With no hesitation I got a team to come clown ya
I down ya, so let your people know what they face
With the type of individual that'll bomb a sub-station
Kaboom and everybody dies outside
There ain't no escapin' the Reaper so don't try
Go ahead, close ya eyes, who the next to step?
Face down, hit, bleedin' on the steps a death
Check yo self, you just been invaded by true soldiers
December 31st, 96
(The game is over)
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
(I've got all my life to live, plus with all my love to give)
Smokin' weed I never trail, I lead
Spendin' dough, tripped the cost of a ride
Like it was pocket money, Gs
But these are the things real playas do
Talkin' shit is real things that the hatas do
I'm namin' you, shit's thick, it's time to run for shelter
I kept the word, things could happen to marks
Like it was helter skelter
Dear diary, I'm runnin' outta pages
Fadin', in and out, takin' purple hazes
The dazes, Revelations in the last stages
Red skys institute, the silent horns playin'
I'm prayin' with tears in my eyes
'Cuz I'm tryin to make it into eternal peace without dyin'
But they eyein' my bank account with beams on my rover
The killa failed to launch his attack
(The game is over)
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
Lord please, murda my enemies
(Yeah)
Burn 'em at a thousand degrees
And Lord please let me make mo cheese
'Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave
(No)
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
Game Over Lyrics as written by O'shea Jackson Brad Jordan
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Spirit Music Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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