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[Verse 1] I was born in the crosshairs without a pot to piss in Where niggas get smoked over their Jordans and their Pippens Welcome to California, nah, it ain't cold as New York But life is a bitch out here: word to Too Short Wack was a shooter so we called him Toni Kukoc Gang banging had us addicted like it was Newports Whoever thought that it would spread like petroleum Now BP connect got us praying to them holy men Just had a daughter, almost named her Katrina If I raise her right, then maybe she can take over FEMA Spike Lee in New Orleans shooting documentaries And Game's still in Cali, eatin' off The Documentary Take em to the symmetry I mean the cemetery Where everybody boxed in: Refrigerator Perry [Hook] And every little fuck up, they blame it on Barack Cause he's just like T.I.: Born in the Trap And every little fuck up, they blame it on Barack Cause he's just like Gucci: Born in the Trap And every little fuck up, they blame it on Barack Cause he's just like Jeezy: Born in the Trap And every little fuck up, my gun she go "crack!" Cause I'm just like Outkast, born in the Trap [Verse 2] So what's going on with you faggots? And what you gonna do when your swagger no longer matters? And your bitch ain't the baddest cause she in her mid-40s And your Phantom played out so you hating on the shorties Cause they running round like they was your age, when you was your age Fucking bitches raw cause now the world ain't got no AIDS Yeah, 2050 on these niggas Gold diggers sucked you dry and left them hickeys on you niggas I used to run around like you, run the town like you Walk my red nose and clown like you But it got old like Betty White This rap shit real deep like Barry White Reminiscing on them days I used to carry white Walking though them Crip hoods in the Cherry Nikes Now I live a married life, walking in the house, to them home-cooked meals Joint American Express accounts and less dollar bills [Hook] Niggas still got their hands out, begging for a stack Just like Goodie Mob, I was born in the Trap Niggas still got their hands out, begging for a stack But just like Luda, I was born in the Trap Leechers still got their hands out, begging for a stack But like Soulja Boy, I was born in the Trap Broke ass niggas still begging for a stack Take 'em to Shawty Lo, nigga, learn how to Trap [Verse 3] Shit deeper than The Roots band 15s drumming, ?uestlove in the coupe fam Ridin' through Pittsburgh, Wiz got the Steelers Born by the jungle so I came with gorillas Since niggas dropping more dimes than we fuckin' We out the hood, tryna get money like P touching Splitting backwoods just to get our weed stuffed in The crack we cookin, we don't need ovens We need something to put in the mouth of our kids Instead of copping chains, lets fly to Chile and dig Go to Haiti and feed, to the Bahamas and breathe On the way back, scoop my nigga Shyne from Belize, you know Sometimes I feel like this rap shit is heaven sent Then I get a high, feel like it's irrelevant So I'm 'bout to pop the trunk like an elephant And campaign with Wyclef while he run for president [Outro] I'm 'bout to pop the trunk like an elephant And campaign with Wyclef while he run for president Told you I was gon' kill this shit, Premo..
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Meaning of "Born in the Trap" by The Game
The lyrics paint a stark picture of a life born into hardship, a "trap" where survival is a daily battle. The opening lines immediately establish a sense of being under siege, "born in the crosshairs," with no resources and a constant threat of violence over possessions like sneakers. This isn't just about poverty; it's about a systemic environment where desperation leads to addiction and violence, described as being "addicted like it was Newports." The central tension lies in the narrator's struggle to escape this cycle while acknowledging its pervasive influence. There's a deep-seated awareness of the societal blame placed on figures like Barack Obama, who, like the rappers mentioned, are seen as products of this environment. The repeated phrase "Born in the Trap" becomes a refrain of both identity and a societal indictment, suggesting that the circumstances of one's birth dictate their perceived failures. A striking element is the juxtaposition of past struggles with a present desire for a different life. The narrator contrasts his former self, running wild and engaging in illicit activities like "carry white," with a newfound domesticity and financial stability. This shift is marked by references to a "married life" and "home-cooked meals," a stark departure from the "Crip hoods" and the constant need to "trap." Ultimately, the effectiveness of these lyrics comes from their raw honesty and the way they weave personal experience with broader social commentary. The narrator uses vivid, sometimes jarring, imagery to convey the harsh realities of his upbringing and the ongoing fight for a better future. The song resonates because it articulates a complex narrative of survival, aspiration, and the enduring impact of one's origins.
This AI-assisted editorial analysis was reviewed, improved, and approved by the LyricsWeb editorial team.
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Credits
- Writers
- The Game
- DJ Premier
- Van McCoy