Dan nu het beste rap-nummer dat ik ken en waarvan ik hier de lyrics laat volgen: 'Hate it or love it', 'The Game ft. 50 Cent'. Het clipje, merkte ik gaandeweg, is enigzins gecensureerd. Leuk spelletje: vergelijk de explicit lyrics cuts met de tekst. Maar je weet het wel. (Bitch, nigger, etc.). Briljant ritme en een tekst met ghetto-klachten die maar blijft vloeien als de hete lava van een vulkaan die al te lang op uitbarsten staat. Uiteindelijk krijgt het bijna de kracht van een litanie. Waardoor je je je afvraagt: welke ongelooflijke pijn zit hier achter? Waardoor DaGrumpyPiet uitroept: 'Er is ook goeie rap!''
"Ya, let's take em back Uh huh. Comin' up I was confused my momma kissin' a girl. Confusion occurs comin' up in the cold world. Daddy ain't around probably out commitin' felonies. My favorite rapper used to sing ch-check out my melody. I wanna live good, so should I sell dope for a fo-finger ring. Money and them gold ropes. Santa told me if I pass could get a sheep skin coat. If I can move a few packs and get the hat, now that'd be dope. Tossed and turned in my sleep at night. Woke up the next morning niggas done stole my bike. Different day same shit, ain't nothing good in the hood. I'd run away from this bitch and never come back if I could.
[Chorus (50 Cent & The Game):] Hate it or love it the underdog's on top. And I'm gonna shine homie until my heart stop. Go 'head envy me. I'm raps MVP And I ain't goin' nowhere so you can get to know me. Hate it or love it the underdog's on top. And I'm gonna shine homie until my heart stop. Go 'head envy me. I'm raps MVP. And I ain't goin' nowhere so you can get to know me.
[Game] G-G-G-G-G-Unit, on the grill of my lowrider. Guns on both sides, right above the gold wires. I'll fo'-five 'em, kill a nigga on my song and really do it, that's the true meanin of a ghostwriter. Ten G's ll take your daughter out her Air Forces. Believe you me homey, I know all about losses. I'm from Compton, where the wrong colors be cautious. One phone call'll have your body dumped in marshes. I stay strapped like car seats, been banginsince my lil' nigga Rob got killed for his Barkleys. That's ten years, I told Pooh in ninety-five. I'll kill you if you try me for my Air Max 95's. Told Banks when I met him I'ma ride and if I gotta die, I'd rather a homicide. I ain't have 50 Cent when my grandmama died. Now I'm goin back to Cali with my Jacob on. See how time fly?
[50 Cent] From the beginnin of the end. Losers lose winners win. This is real we dont gotta pretend. The cold world that we in. Its full of pressure and pain. I thought it would change its stayin the same.
Used to see five-oh, throw the crack by the bench. Now I'm fuckin with 5-0 it's all startin to make sense. My moms happy, she ain't gotta pay the rent. And she got a red bow on that brand new Benz. Waitin on shop money to lamp, sittin in the Range. Thinkin how they spent 30 million dollars on airplanes when there's kids starvin'. Pac is gone and Brenda still throwin babies in the garbage. I wanna know "What's Goin' On" like I hear Marvin. No schoolbooks, they used that wood to build coffins. Whenever I'm in the booth and I get exhausted. I think what if Marie Bank had got that abortion? I love you ma.