300 Bars & Runnin' lyrics - The Game
[INTRO]
My mama took me to Sam Goody's
I wanted to buy a 50 Cent CD
I took that shit home
That shit was wack like a motherfucker
Don't fuck with Game
I like 50 Cent
He reminds me Spongebob
And Tony Yayo is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the Explorer
They're my friends
Psyche
I went down one of them Bodaga shits right there in Harlem
Got me a bootleg Lloyd Banks and Young Buck CD
Took that shit home, put it in my boom box
Thought I was 'bout to be on some radio Raheim shit
Man that shit sound like some Vanessa Williams '88
I mean Olivia cute but they say that bitch a man
So this Black Wallstreet for life now
GGG-UNOT!
[GAME]
300 Bars and Running
Just loan me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk with me
Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them niggaz they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a nigga take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah, standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only niggaz that rapped in Philly?
See them niggaz with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
Compton camcorder said Curtis Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese steak, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Label's signing many things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the block
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get lonely on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a GGG-u not!
Acting big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on that new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out before you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors, I'm from Cedar Block
So I got my hot tops that make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't believe you dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let Lucifer rap
Bring hell to niggaz when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the Ruger clap, is Rufus back?
I see what you thinking, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
We got reservations in heaven, you ready? Let's go!
Drop them off, then the sound like Esko
I'm a say 'he hit me first' if me and Dre talk
All Nas said back was he had a ??
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
Niggaz running their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, nigga I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my niggaz make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot nigga wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's Capone and NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take that shit off nigga, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy soldier
On Sesame street doing voice overs
Bitch ass nigga need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong nigga, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you ain't go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning I couldn't trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
I said
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, nigga this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Running
And I beef with any nigga, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you want it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the nigga Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's police to use his
'Cause Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods, Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This nigga bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'Cause when you fucking with Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake
For caking off niggaz on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only for your shit just a lil bit
niggaz only for your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some killer shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
Beating on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to make him a suit
Tell Reebok to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his strings
Take my advice, never wear air max for the game
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a Latin king
'Cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They will stab you in Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Life Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for yourself
nigga stop acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling that's enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hearse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New York cab
I miss the Old King, that New York had
Who's this fake nigga, on pictures with the Jake nigga?
Got his crew starving 'cause he ain't the whole cake, nigga
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you talking about who you shot
I'll use another six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Trying, we thought you was hot
Now the same nigga wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
nigga got mad when The Game start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking about we a family, Game had to go
nigga I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'Cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted
Pull the brim low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord Givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
niggaz hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a mistake
So they can put me in the SWAT car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can drive down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to stay
'Cause I'm a cold nigga when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into grenades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou wet Jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit Satan
And the only thing I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, they they calling all cars
'Cause they heard about what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my beef with 50
Now tell me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, like ??
50 whispered in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dana Day on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
And I still shine like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the paint, shit
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, Impala liftin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like Kim before the d-cup
Continuously getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, when the 'K' clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my AK-47
This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter knifes
Motherfucker I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the wanksta?
When Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your little flow
Then he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten stacks
Picture that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to find
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy Shop
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I mean for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet rock
Don't worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck Reeboks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three spots
280 in, ain't no getting me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever motherfucker, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever motherfucker, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want peace
So give 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in peace
From west to east the flow is outdatable, irreplaceable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I climb the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hood rat bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Running, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone
My mama took me to Sam Goody's
I wanted to buy a 50 Cent CD
I took that shit home
That shit was wack like a motherfucker
Don't fuck with Game
I like 50 Cent
He reminds me Spongebob
And Tony Yayo is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the Explorer
They're my friends
Psyche
I went down one of them Bodaga shits right there in Harlem
Got me a bootleg Lloyd Banks and Young Buck CD
Took that shit home, put it in my boom box
Thought I was 'bout to be on some radio Raheim shit
Man that shit sound like some Vanessa Williams '88
I mean Olivia cute but they say that bitch a man
So this Black Wallstreet for life now
GGG-UNOT!
[GAME]
300 Bars and Running
Just loan me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk with me
Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them niggaz they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a nigga take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah, standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only niggaz that rapped in Philly?
See them niggaz with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
Compton camcorder said Curtis Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese steak, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Label's signing many things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the block
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get lonely on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a GGG-u not!
Acting big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on that new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out before you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors, I'm from Cedar Block
So I got my hot tops that make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't believe you dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let Lucifer rap
Bring hell to niggaz when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the Ruger clap, is Rufus back?
I see what you thinking, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
We got reservations in heaven, you ready? Let's go!
Drop them off, then the sound like Esko
I'm a say 'he hit me first' if me and Dre talk
All Nas said back was he had a ??
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
Niggaz running their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, nigga I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my niggaz make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot nigga wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's Capone and NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take that shit off nigga, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy soldier
On Sesame street doing voice overs
Bitch ass nigga need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong nigga, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you ain't go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning I couldn't trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
I said
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, nigga this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Running
And I beef with any nigga, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you want it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the nigga Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's police to use his
'Cause Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods, Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This nigga bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'Cause when you fucking with Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake
For caking off niggaz on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only for your shit just a lil bit
niggaz only for your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some killer shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
Beating on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to make him a suit
Tell Reebok to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his strings
Take my advice, never wear air max for the game
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a Latin king
'Cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They will stab you in Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Life Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for yourself
nigga stop acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling that's enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hearse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New York cab
I miss the Old King, that New York had
Who's this fake nigga, on pictures with the Jake nigga?
Got his crew starving 'cause he ain't the whole cake, nigga
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you talking about who you shot
I'll use another six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Trying, we thought you was hot
Now the same nigga wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
nigga got mad when The Game start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking about we a family, Game had to go
nigga I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'Cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted
Pull the brim low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord Givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
niggaz hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a mistake
So they can put me in the SWAT car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can drive down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to stay
'Cause I'm a cold nigga when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into grenades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou wet Jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit Satan
And the only thing I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, they they calling all cars
'Cause they heard about what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my beef with 50
Now tell me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, like ??
50 whispered in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dana Day on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
And I still shine like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the paint, shit
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, Impala liftin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like Kim before the d-cup
Continuously getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, when the 'K' clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my AK-47
This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter knifes
Motherfucker I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the wanksta?
When Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your little flow
Then he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten stacks
Picture that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to find
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy Shop
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I mean for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet rock
Don't worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck Reeboks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three spots
280 in, ain't no getting me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever motherfucker, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever motherfucker, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want peace
So give 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in peace
From west to east the flow is outdatable, irreplaceable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I climb the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hood rat bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Running, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone
Down lyrics - The Game
Oooooh
(The Game)
That's Lloyd Bank's momma singin'
You betta tell your boy to keep his mouth closed
Or he gon' get a black tux
And a free wake
How my bow tie lookin'?
You ready?
Let's go
When I see Lloyd Banks it's goin', (down, down)
If you in the car wit em' you betta get, (down, oooh well)
Automatic rifle
And i'm blastin' on sight so
Ski mask, i'm psycho
My gun got night scope
Two in the leg knocked em, (down, down)
From Thirty feet away he fell, (down, oooh well)
Touch kids like Michael
One roll of the dice, oh!
You wanna gamble wit' your life
Nigga die slow
Now your casket goin', (down, down)
Tony Yayo tried to run
I chased him, (down, oooh well)
Cause' I hate the Jakes
Pat him down take his cake
He wanna be a clown nigga
Might as well paint his face
And that's how I get, (down, down)
Fuck G-Unit nigga i'm not (down, oooh well)
Used to ride wit' em'
Slice up the pie wit' em'
Got kicked out the group
'cause I wasn't gon' die wit' em'
And that's how it went, (down, down)
At Hot 97 we came, (down, oooh well)
Had Thirty niggas wit' me
Niggas that sport the Dickies
Hoppin' out of cabs
We just want to talk to 50
We wanna know what's goin' (down, down)
Security pulled heat it went, (down, oooh well)
Had to shake the block
I ain't tryna' face the cops
Heard a couple shots
Then I seen the shell cases drop
Told P-nut to get, (down, down)
I looked back and saw my nigga goin', (down, oooh well)
I said,"homie we can't leave em'"
What if my nigga dyin'
Soon as we hit Houston then
We heard police sirens
Oh shit!, it's goin', (down, down)
Guns out, they tellin' him to get, (down, oooh well)
He on both knees
Blood squirtin' out his jeans
Catch 22 should I go to jail or flee the scene
Either way it's goin', (down, down)
So I hopped in the truck and went, (down, oooh well)
Broadway in a black suburban
One thing on my mind
Go hard til' them fags get murdered
'cause he tried to get my nigga shot, (down, down)
But he survived and now he goin' (down, oooh well)
To the station
Police at the Double-U waitin'
On me to arrive and now I gotta shake em'
They wanna take a nigga, (down, down)
We on the same elevator goin', (down, oooh well)
Dodger fitted
Got the Hova lean
So they ain't notice me
Now they mad as fuck
And gotta watch my Range Rover leave
Hit the 95 and head, (down, down)
It's to Philly so i can lay it, (down, oooh well)
Catch the first thing smoking back the L-A-X
Kicked up my Air Nikes
Then I slept the whole flight
Had a dream about it goin', (down, down)
Woke up and saw my plane comin', (down, oooh well)
Missed the palm trees
Sunshinin' everyday
New York's my second home
But i'm from in L.A
And i hold shit, (down, down)
The throne was empty so I sat, (down, oooh well)
And just handled my biz
Theres two sides to every westside story
And I just tell it like it is
And that's how it went, (down, down)
On my son that's all that went, (down, oooh well)
So stop tellin' them lies to all them motherfuckin' magazines
And radio stations nigga you know what happened
Me and Lloyd Banks aint, (down, down)
Keep talkin' shit, i'll lay you, (down, oooh well)
You niggas ran out the backdoor nigga
All I wanted to do was holla man
To see what was what
Y'all was too fuckin' scared to come, (down, down)
You've been to Compton, you know how I get, (down, oooh well)
So fuck y'all nigga
And it's like that
For life
(The Game)
That's Lloyd Bank's momma singin'
You betta tell your boy to keep his mouth closed
Or he gon' get a black tux
And a free wake
How my bow tie lookin'?
You ready?
Let's go
When I see Lloyd Banks it's goin', (down, down)
If you in the car wit em' you betta get, (down, oooh well)
Automatic rifle
And i'm blastin' on sight so
Ski mask, i'm psycho
My gun got night scope
Two in the leg knocked em, (down, down)
From Thirty feet away he fell, (down, oooh well)
Touch kids like Michael
One roll of the dice, oh!
You wanna gamble wit' your life
Nigga die slow
Now your casket goin', (down, down)
Tony Yayo tried to run
I chased him, (down, oooh well)
Cause' I hate the Jakes
Pat him down take his cake
He wanna be a clown nigga
Might as well paint his face
And that's how I get, (down, down)
Fuck G-Unit nigga i'm not (down, oooh well)
Used to ride wit' em'
Slice up the pie wit' em'
Got kicked out the group
'cause I wasn't gon' die wit' em'
And that's how it went, (down, down)
At Hot 97 we came, (down, oooh well)
Had Thirty niggas wit' me
Niggas that sport the Dickies
Hoppin' out of cabs
We just want to talk to 50
We wanna know what's goin' (down, down)
Security pulled heat it went, (down, oooh well)
Had to shake the block
I ain't tryna' face the cops
Heard a couple shots
Then I seen the shell cases drop
Told P-nut to get, (down, down)
I looked back and saw my nigga goin', (down, oooh well)
I said,"homie we can't leave em'"
What if my nigga dyin'
Soon as we hit Houston then
We heard police sirens
Oh shit!, it's goin', (down, down)
Guns out, they tellin' him to get, (down, oooh well)
He on both knees
Blood squirtin' out his jeans
Catch 22 should I go to jail or flee the scene
Either way it's goin', (down, down)
So I hopped in the truck and went, (down, oooh well)
Broadway in a black suburban
One thing on my mind
Go hard til' them fags get murdered
'cause he tried to get my nigga shot, (down, down)
But he survived and now he goin' (down, oooh well)
To the station
Police at the Double-U waitin'
On me to arrive and now I gotta shake em'
They wanna take a nigga, (down, down)
We on the same elevator goin', (down, oooh well)
Dodger fitted
Got the Hova lean
So they ain't notice me
Now they mad as fuck
And gotta watch my Range Rover leave
Hit the 95 and head, (down, down)
It's to Philly so i can lay it, (down, oooh well)
Catch the first thing smoking back the L-A-X
Kicked up my Air Nikes
Then I slept the whole flight
Had a dream about it goin', (down, down)
Woke up and saw my plane comin', (down, oooh well)
Missed the palm trees
Sunshinin' everyday
New York's my second home
But i'm from in L.A
And i hold shit, (down, down)
The throne was empty so I sat, (down, oooh well)
And just handled my biz
Theres two sides to every westside story
And I just tell it like it is
And that's how it went, (down, down)
On my son that's all that went, (down, oooh well)
So stop tellin' them lies to all them motherfuckin' magazines
And radio stations nigga you know what happened
Me and Lloyd Banks aint, (down, down)
Keep talkin' shit, i'll lay you, (down, oooh well)
You niggas ran out the backdoor nigga
All I wanted to do was holla man
To see what was what
Y'all was too fuckin' scared to come, (down, down)
You've been to Compton, you know how I get, (down, oooh well)
So fuck y'all nigga
And it's like that
For life
Poison Bananas lyrics - The Game
P-p-p-p Unit
You pussy ass nigga!
P-p-p-p Unit
You pussy ass nigga!
P-p-p-p Unit
You pussy ass nigga!
Who the snitch?
You the snitch
Who the bitch?
You the bitch [x4]
Look, get ya mask took off
When I blast four off
Pump the shotty
Throw your body
Where the grass grow tall
Jeah, I'm like tango for the cash
Orange Jag
Looking like a mango when it pass
With the tato on the mack
I ain't talking 'bout bagging up work when I put Yayo in the bag
Fuck is you rhyming about?
You 30, just getting in the game, you should be trying to get out
You it's drama when the llama get out
Pull and spit the lead
Bullets hit your head
Then your mind'll sit out
By the time they find this shit out
I'm in a different state
In a different zip, different whip, different plates
Wait! I put the heater to your head
You G Unit Ninja Turtles cause your leader is rat
Scrat!
It's simple as 1,2,3
You lames
Wanna get at Game
You gotta come through me
Tony Yayo
Get out the way ho
Lloyd Banks just got shot
Technique pass the mack
And aim it at Curtis Jack
You ain't right
Trying to be Frank White
You getting smacked
Little accident murderer
I just now heard of ya
And the next time you disrespect the west, E serving ya
Yayo
You better lay low
Cause the M.O.B. got some killers on the payroll
I put a million dollar hit on you snitches
Show you why we call ourselves Money Over Bitches
[Chorus]
I got a clip full of poison bananas
And some cold hard killers from Compton (here monkey, monkey)
I got a clip full of poison bananas
And a cold hard killer from Philly (here monkey, monkey)
I got a clip full of poison bananas
And a cold hard killer from Long Beach (here monkey, monkey)
I got a clip full of poison bananas
And a cold hard killer from L.A. (here monkey, monkey)
Olivia, get back in the car
'Fore I smack you like 50 did Fredo Starr
And he picking on lil niggas
Is it me or is it every video, Curtis Jackson get a lil bigger?
Nigga using that muscle enhancement
All I need is a couple dumbells and a sandwich
Fuck holding a conference
I'll run to Violator, hold Chris Lighty for hostage
Cause Banks doing gay porn, come out the closet!
Either that or I'mma knock Chris Lighty unconsciencious
Cut all the non-sense
You was PC'd up
Hit the bricks, rapping 'bout the corner like you Common
Talk of New York? You Jorge Pasada
I throw 'em, you catch 'em, that's not a threat, that's a promise
You did 6 months, now you a convict?
I accepted your phones calls now you got me on some wild shit
Judge said, "Time spent"
Now you can get it from the same gun homicide dropped five dimes with
And next time you try to kiss me on the cheek
You won't be alive long enough to put out my heat
[Chorus]
Welcome to the west, let me show you what hood like
My niggas down to sit on death row and ain't fucking with Suge Knight
Tag your left toes, wish you niggas a good night
Rock-a-by baby
Chrome .380
Screaming, "Ready to die"
Them niggas ain't crazy
On the black wall on the mini street that they can't be
A pine box plenty of leg room
Game, hit me, we're watching X's rented in Cancun
I'm look at the two like, "The nerve of this damn dude"
Pointing a beam at him, locating his next wound
Talk to my heat
Chi-Chi get the Yayo
Replace that G Unit bandana with a halo
[Chorus]
You pussy ass nigga!
P-p-p-p Unit
You pussy ass nigga!
P-p-p-p Unit
You pussy ass nigga!
Who the snitch?
You the snitch
Who the bitch?
You the bitch [x4]
Look, get ya mask took off
When I blast four off
Pump the shotty
Throw your body
Where the grass grow tall
Jeah, I'm like tango for the cash
Orange Jag
Looking like a mango when it pass
With the tato on the mack
I ain't talking 'bout bagging up work when I put Yayo in the bag
Fuck is you rhyming about?
You 30, just getting in the game, you should be trying to get out
You it's drama when the llama get out
Pull and spit the lead
Bullets hit your head
Then your mind'll sit out
By the time they find this shit out
I'm in a different state
In a different zip, different whip, different plates
Wait! I put the heater to your head
You G Unit Ninja Turtles cause your leader is rat
Scrat!
It's simple as 1,2,3
You lames
Wanna get at Game
You gotta come through me
Tony Yayo
Get out the way ho
Lloyd Banks just got shot
Technique pass the mack
And aim it at Curtis Jack
You ain't right
Trying to be Frank White
You getting smacked
Little accident murderer
I just now heard of ya
And the next time you disrespect the west, E serving ya
Yayo
You better lay low
Cause the M.O.B. got some killers on the payroll
I put a million dollar hit on you snitches
Show you why we call ourselves Money Over Bitches
[Chorus]
I got a clip full of poison bananas
And some cold hard killers from Compton (here monkey, monkey)
I got a clip full of poison bananas
And a cold hard killer from Philly (here monkey, monkey)
I got a clip full of poison bananas
And a cold hard killer from Long Beach (here monkey, monkey)
I got a clip full of poison bananas
And a cold hard killer from L.A. (here monkey, monkey)
Olivia, get back in the car
'Fore I smack you like 50 did Fredo Starr
And he picking on lil niggas
Is it me or is it every video, Curtis Jackson get a lil bigger?
Nigga using that muscle enhancement
All I need is a couple dumbells and a sandwich
Fuck holding a conference
I'll run to Violator, hold Chris Lighty for hostage
Cause Banks doing gay porn, come out the closet!
Either that or I'mma knock Chris Lighty unconsciencious
Cut all the non-sense
You was PC'd up
Hit the bricks, rapping 'bout the corner like you Common
Talk of New York? You Jorge Pasada
I throw 'em, you catch 'em, that's not a threat, that's a promise
You did 6 months, now you a convict?
I accepted your phones calls now you got me on some wild shit
Judge said, "Time spent"
Now you can get it from the same gun homicide dropped five dimes with
And next time you try to kiss me on the cheek
You won't be alive long enough to put out my heat
[Chorus]
Welcome to the west, let me show you what hood like
My niggas down to sit on death row and ain't fucking with Suge Knight
Tag your left toes, wish you niggas a good night
Rock-a-by baby
Chrome .380
Screaming, "Ready to die"
Them niggas ain't crazy
On the black wall on the mini street that they can't be
A pine box plenty of leg room
Game, hit me, we're watching X's rented in Cancun
I'm look at the two like, "The nerve of this damn dude"
Pointing a beam at him, locating his next wound
Talk to my heat
Chi-Chi get the Yayo
Replace that G Unit bandana with a halo
[Chorus]
I'm A King lyrics - The Game (feat. T.I.)
[50 Cent]
I never said anything, I never take anything back
[Young Buck]
Well you kinda heard me speaking
"You ain't a crip like Snoop, you ain't a blood like Game"
And I was speaking on Game without knowing him
but now, you know alot of these dudes jump in the game
and they rap artists, and that's exactly what they is
but they not what they say they are when they rap it
[T.I.]
Everybody wanna be the king of the south when
they ain't runnin the damn thing with they mouth
no doubt, it's all good, y'all just stay in y'all opinions
but in the South and in the hood it's understood without saying
it's a given, and it ain't cause what I'm doin for a livin'
it's more because of what I'm doin how I'm livin
not to mention when I'm rappin, I'm just hurtin niggaz feelings
And still chillin on somethin that's into healing
Man, permissions from the Click to continue to keep it pimpin'
but while the crack was in the house, the record sale went thru the ceiling
so say what you want, and do what you please
but for fun I shoot 22's from your shoes to your knees
I run a record label and a crew of G's
so niggaz'll come and look for you if you sneeze
or even breathe the wrong way
you better do what the song say and be easy, else it'll be a long day
I'm a king - bank rolls in the pockets of my jeans
I'm a king - you pussy niggaz couldn't see me in your dreams
I'm a king - top topic of all of your magazines
I'm a king - head of the body, leader of the team
I'm a king - remember I can get your block knocked off
I'm a king - a Bentley coupe with the top chopped off
I'm a king - I'm connectin nationwide but in the South
I'm a king - just respect it and keep my name out'cha mouth
[The Game]
Everybody wanna be the King of the West
but, they ain't runnin the damn thing in the West
that's to bad, it's all good, they just speakin they minds
stand on top of the Hollywood sign, you can see that it's mine
I'd rather die, motherfucker, than give up my throne
my crown is a Dodger fitted, California's my home
and it's known when the drama pop off, I bring the chrome
so nigga leave me alone, 'fore I start living my songs
I made a killin drug dealin, some people say I'm a villain
went from choppin' in the house, to the top of rap gettin millions
so watch your mouth, unless you ready to bleed
cause to me, murderin wack mc's is somethin like a disease
top down in the Impala, so I can ride in the breeze
and where I'm from, niggaz throwin up B's and C's
so make a turn the wrong way, think about what the song say
and be easy, else it'll be a long day
I'm a king - bank rolls in the pockets of my jeans
I'm a king - you pussy niggaz couldn't see me in your dreams
I'm a king - top topic of all of your magazines
I'm a king - head of the body, leader of the team
I'm a king - remember I can get your block knocked off
I'm a king - impala with the top chopped off
I'm a king - I'm connectin nationwide but in the West
I'm a king - disrespect it I hit your brains with the tech
[The Game]
Keep your eyes off my throne and your hands off my crown
or get your ass layed back
Keep your eyes off my throne and your hands off my crown
or get your ass layed back
Fuckin with Black Wall Street & Pimp $quad Click Get
[T.I.]
layed out like a drunk, on the late-late
so haters hate, the hell with all the hearsay
from wednesday to tuesday, T.I.P. act a fool, hey
I'm a king - bank rolls in the pockets of my jeans
I'm a king - you pussy niggaz couldn't see me in your dreams
I'm a king - top topic of all of your magazines
I'm a king - head of the body, leader of the team
I'm a king - remember I can get your block knocked off
I'm a king - a Bentley coupe with the top knocked off
I'm a king - I'm connectin nationwide but in the West
I'm a king - disrespect it I hit your brains with the tech
I never said anything, I never take anything back
[Young Buck]
Well you kinda heard me speaking
"You ain't a crip like Snoop, you ain't a blood like Game"
And I was speaking on Game without knowing him
but now, you know alot of these dudes jump in the game
and they rap artists, and that's exactly what they is
but they not what they say they are when they rap it
[T.I.]
Everybody wanna be the king of the south when
they ain't runnin the damn thing with they mouth
no doubt, it's all good, y'all just stay in y'all opinions
but in the South and in the hood it's understood without saying
it's a given, and it ain't cause what I'm doin for a livin'
it's more because of what I'm doin how I'm livin
not to mention when I'm rappin, I'm just hurtin niggaz feelings
And still chillin on somethin that's into healing
Man, permissions from the Click to continue to keep it pimpin'
but while the crack was in the house, the record sale went thru the ceiling
so say what you want, and do what you please
but for fun I shoot 22's from your shoes to your knees
I run a record label and a crew of G's
so niggaz'll come and look for you if you sneeze
or even breathe the wrong way
you better do what the song say and be easy, else it'll be a long day
I'm a king - bank rolls in the pockets of my jeans
I'm a king - you pussy niggaz couldn't see me in your dreams
I'm a king - top topic of all of your magazines
I'm a king - head of the body, leader of the team
I'm a king - remember I can get your block knocked off
I'm a king - a Bentley coupe with the top chopped off
I'm a king - I'm connectin nationwide but in the South
I'm a king - just respect it and keep my name out'cha mouth
[The Game]
Everybody wanna be the King of the West
but, they ain't runnin the damn thing in the West
that's to bad, it's all good, they just speakin they minds
stand on top of the Hollywood sign, you can see that it's mine
I'd rather die, motherfucker, than give up my throne
my crown is a Dodger fitted, California's my home
and it's known when the drama pop off, I bring the chrome
so nigga leave me alone, 'fore I start living my songs
I made a killin drug dealin, some people say I'm a villain
went from choppin' in the house, to the top of rap gettin millions
so watch your mouth, unless you ready to bleed
cause to me, murderin wack mc's is somethin like a disease
top down in the Impala, so I can ride in the breeze
and where I'm from, niggaz throwin up B's and C's
so make a turn the wrong way, think about what the song say
and be easy, else it'll be a long day
I'm a king - bank rolls in the pockets of my jeans
I'm a king - you pussy niggaz couldn't see me in your dreams
I'm a king - top topic of all of your magazines
I'm a king - head of the body, leader of the team
I'm a king - remember I can get your block knocked off
I'm a king - impala with the top chopped off
I'm a king - I'm connectin nationwide but in the West
I'm a king - disrespect it I hit your brains with the tech
[The Game]
Keep your eyes off my throne and your hands off my crown
or get your ass layed back
Keep your eyes off my throne and your hands off my crown
or get your ass layed back
Fuckin with Black Wall Street & Pimp $quad Click Get
[T.I.]
layed out like a drunk, on the late-late
so haters hate, the hell with all the hearsay
from wednesday to tuesday, T.I.P. act a fool, hey
I'm a king - bank rolls in the pockets of my jeans
I'm a king - you pussy niggaz couldn't see me in your dreams
I'm a king - top topic of all of your magazines
I'm a king - head of the body, leader of the team
I'm a king - remember I can get your block knocked off
I'm a king - a Bentley coupe with the top knocked off
I'm a king - I'm connectin nationwide but in the West
I'm a king - disrespect it I hit your brains with the tech
Play The Game lyrics - The Game
You niggaz is soldiers man, fuckin toy soldiers
Yeah get in line cadet; atten-HUT!
Yayo you punk-ass bitch
I know you can't wait to get off house arrest nigga
So you can run the fuck outta New York, you faggot
[Chorus]
Niggaz love to play The Game, with 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
Why you tryin to play The Game, with 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
Can't play The Game with only 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
So why you tryin to play The Game with only 50 Cent
Come back when you got a couple dollars, holla
[Verse 1]
You gon' need more than 50 Cent to play this Game
Nigga hatin on me cause I'm doin my own thang
I'm ain't Lloyd Banks bitch I don't share your brain
I was in the fast lane before the G-Unit chain
You was hatin on Ja cause him and Irv went pop
Now yo' ass run around singin the "Candy Shop"
After "Westside Story," I took your fans
I seen it for myself, that bitch Olivia's a man
I got word from the wise, nigga you dead wrong
Stole the real 50's name and wouldn't pay for his headstone
Nigga got mad when "How We Do" start climbin
Actin like a bitch cause he "Got Rich and Stopped Tryin'"
Got niggaz locked up, you a snitch in Queens
Told 'em Touch shot 'Pac then rated out Supreme
But on the rizzeal, I'm talkin about you and me
Toe to toe, five-oh-C-E-N-T, faggot
Banks is a bitch, 50 is a bitch
Yayo is a bitch, Buck is a bitch
Olivia's a bitch (Jersey Devil exclusive) no
Olivia's a man, ha ha, God damn
[Verse 2]
You reported more names than the evening news
I guess now Reebok makin cement shoes
Yayo the only real motherfucker from the street
You swingin on me like you want five heartbeats
Okay 1, 2, 3 4 flatline
If you say you wrote my shit one mo' time
You ain't a hood nigga you "Got Rich and Stopped Tryin'"
Jimmy scared Chris Lighty and Jay stop lyin
You a snitch, what'chu know about movin in silence
Even N.Y.P.D. can't deny it
The life of your story is fuckin Vivica
But your baby momma left you cause you couldn't get it up, bitch
Yayo went to jail, Banks sold a mill'
Then Buck sold a mill' then 50 gave a deal
to a bitch named Olivia who titties ain't real
Now they all hidin behind the police shield
[Chorus]
[Outro]
G-G-G-G-G-you niggaz ain't shit, bitch-ass niggaz
I told you this shit was real nigga
This is Fat Rat nigga, motherfucker
All you get up on there and sing a few hooks
Nigga and you wanna claim a nigga fame, nigga
You was Ashanti, you bitch-ass nigga, fuck is you talkin 'bout?
You wrote somethin nigga, the real is the real nigga
Black Wallstreet nigga, THE Black Wallstreet nigga
Gon' tell yo' bitch-ass nigga
I ain't gon' get up on this mic and play them games nigga
I told my nigga let me get that last 16 nigga
I'm rappin right now nigga, but I'm spittin the real nigga
You know who I'm talkin to nigga
50! Nigga, bitch-ass nigga
BLACK WALLSTREET NIGGA
Brazil and Wimelton, what block you on nigga?
We'll be there! What block you on?
Scary-ass nigga, fuck this shit man
Niggaz woke me up with that bullshit nigga
Yeah get in line cadet; atten-HUT!
Yayo you punk-ass bitch
I know you can't wait to get off house arrest nigga
So you can run the fuck outta New York, you faggot
[Chorus]
Niggaz love to play The Game, with 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
Why you tryin to play The Game, with 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
Can't play The Game with only 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
So why you tryin to play The Game with only 50 Cent
Come back when you got a couple dollars, holla
[Verse 1]
You gon' need more than 50 Cent to play this Game
Nigga hatin on me cause I'm doin my own thang
I'm ain't Lloyd Banks bitch I don't share your brain
I was in the fast lane before the G-Unit chain
You was hatin on Ja cause him and Irv went pop
Now yo' ass run around singin the "Candy Shop"
After "Westside Story," I took your fans
I seen it for myself, that bitch Olivia's a man
I got word from the wise, nigga you dead wrong
Stole the real 50's name and wouldn't pay for his headstone
Nigga got mad when "How We Do" start climbin
Actin like a bitch cause he "Got Rich and Stopped Tryin'"
Got niggaz locked up, you a snitch in Queens
Told 'em Touch shot 'Pac then rated out Supreme
But on the rizzeal, I'm talkin about you and me
Toe to toe, five-oh-C-E-N-T, faggot
Banks is a bitch, 50 is a bitch
Yayo is a bitch, Buck is a bitch
Olivia's a bitch (Jersey Devil exclusive) no
Olivia's a man, ha ha, God damn
[Verse 2]
You reported more names than the evening news
I guess now Reebok makin cement shoes
Yayo the only real motherfucker from the street
You swingin on me like you want five heartbeats
Okay 1, 2, 3 4 flatline
If you say you wrote my shit one mo' time
You ain't a hood nigga you "Got Rich and Stopped Tryin'"
Jimmy scared Chris Lighty and Jay stop lyin
You a snitch, what'chu know about movin in silence
Even N.Y.P.D. can't deny it
The life of your story is fuckin Vivica
But your baby momma left you cause you couldn't get it up, bitch
Yayo went to jail, Banks sold a mill'
Then Buck sold a mill' then 50 gave a deal
to a bitch named Olivia who titties ain't real
Now they all hidin behind the police shield
[Chorus]
[Outro]
G-G-G-G-G-you niggaz ain't shit, bitch-ass niggaz
I told you this shit was real nigga
This is Fat Rat nigga, motherfucker
All you get up on there and sing a few hooks
Nigga and you wanna claim a nigga fame, nigga
You was Ashanti, you bitch-ass nigga, fuck is you talkin 'bout?
You wrote somethin nigga, the real is the real nigga
Black Wallstreet nigga, THE Black Wallstreet nigga
Gon' tell yo' bitch-ass nigga
I ain't gon' get up on this mic and play them games nigga
I told my nigga let me get that last 16 nigga
I'm rappin right now nigga, but I'm spittin the real nigga
You know who I'm talkin to nigga
50! Nigga, bitch-ass nigga
BLACK WALLSTREET NIGGA
Brazil and Wimelton, what block you on nigga?
We'll be there! What block you on?
Scary-ass nigga, fuck this shit man
Niggaz woke me up with that bullshit nigga
Lil' Bit (Remix) lyrics - The Game
[50 Cent (The Game)]
Okay, whassup its ya boy 50 Cent (Yeah)
It's goin down right here you heard me? (I'm craaazy)
Off of The Massacre's (Aftermath)
Check it out (G-Unot!)
[Chorus - The Game]
Bitches only feel ya shit just a 'lil bit
Niggaz only feel ya shit just a 'lil bit
The hood only feel ya shit just a 'lil bit
Stop the singin' lets get back to some killa shit
[x2]
[Verse 1 - The Game]
Step up in the club they like who you wit
I'm signin' Dr. Dre not G-Unit
Red rag in my pocket feelin' old school
You forgot how bullets feel I'ma show you
I'm a gangsta I do what I want to
Ya time is up nigga I dun warned you
You got the police witchu nigga don't trip
I got a box of donuts and a whole clip
When it's time for beef he get his drink on
Animal Rights said kill 'em with that mink on
I'ma kick it by your car 'till it's time to go
And I won't leave the scene 'till the police show
Cause
[Chorus]
[Verse 2 - The Game]
Remember 50, comin' out ya stereo
Sounded gangsta 'till he switched his flow
How many times I try to get you to hit the smo
Stop lyin' to the people you don't twist the dro
My tech, is fit, my clip is long
And the bloods, and crips, is on you dawg
They musta heard that you a ho
Got G-Unit airbrushed on ya top
Bring the pump in the club cause I'm hurtin' the kid
And I do these rap beefs all the time mayne
They say at summer jam, I turned it out
But Kanye and Hova killed it without a doubt
The rat came out dancin' like a pro, mayne
Punched him in the face the crowd was like "oh mayne"
Four months ago I was yellin' G-Unit
'Till I found out the nigga 5-0 was a snitch
Now
[Chorus]
[50 Cent (The Game)]
Produced by Scott Scorch (Scott Scorch!)
Scott Scorch (Scott...I mean Scott Sc, Sc, Sc)
Scorch
[The Game]
It's Scott Storch you dumbass bitch
S-T-O-R-C-H
Storch mothafucker, Storch
Learn how to talk you fuckin' bitch
That's that muhfuckin hole in ya jaw huh?
Scott Scorch
Learn how to say a nigga name you dumbass faggot
Don't even know how to talk, and that's the reason..
[Chorus]
Okay, whassup its ya boy 50 Cent (Yeah)
It's goin down right here you heard me? (I'm craaazy)
Off of The Massacre's (Aftermath)
Check it out (G-Unot!)
[Chorus - The Game]
Bitches only feel ya shit just a 'lil bit
Niggaz only feel ya shit just a 'lil bit
The hood only feel ya shit just a 'lil bit
Stop the singin' lets get back to some killa shit
[x2]
[Verse 1 - The Game]
Step up in the club they like who you wit
I'm signin' Dr. Dre not G-Unit
Red rag in my pocket feelin' old school
You forgot how bullets feel I'ma show you
I'm a gangsta I do what I want to
Ya time is up nigga I dun warned you
You got the police witchu nigga don't trip
I got a box of donuts and a whole clip
When it's time for beef he get his drink on
Animal Rights said kill 'em with that mink on
I'ma kick it by your car 'till it's time to go
And I won't leave the scene 'till the police show
Cause
[Chorus]
[Verse 2 - The Game]
Remember 50, comin' out ya stereo
Sounded gangsta 'till he switched his flow
How many times I try to get you to hit the smo
Stop lyin' to the people you don't twist the dro
My tech, is fit, my clip is long
And the bloods, and crips, is on you dawg
They musta heard that you a ho
Got G-Unit airbrushed on ya top
Bring the pump in the club cause I'm hurtin' the kid
And I do these rap beefs all the time mayne
They say at summer jam, I turned it out
But Kanye and Hova killed it without a doubt
The rat came out dancin' like a pro, mayne
Punched him in the face the crowd was like "oh mayne"
Four months ago I was yellin' G-Unit
'Till I found out the nigga 5-0 was a snitch
Now
[Chorus]
[50 Cent (The Game)]
Produced by Scott Scorch (Scott Scorch!)
Scott Scorch (Scott...I mean Scott Sc, Sc, Sc)
Scorch
[The Game]
It's Scott Storch you dumbass bitch
S-T-O-R-C-H
Storch mothafucker, Storch
Learn how to talk you fuckin' bitch
That's that muhfuckin hole in ya jaw huh?
Scott Scorch
Learn how to say a nigga name you dumbass faggot
Don't even know how to talk, and that's the reason..
[Chorus]
M.O.B. Freestyle lyrics - The Game (feat. M.O.B., Nas)
[Nas]
Aiyyo whassup Game
This the biggest boss in New York, Nas
Whattup my nigga I love what you doin out there man
New York got'chu, Queensbridge got'chu
Do the damn thing
We'll probably do some shit that'll scare the shit outta y'all
Nas y'all
[Verse 1: M.O.B.]
Money Over Bitches, yeah
Watch it, when I hop out, 38 and a knockout
The studio on lockout like the day they let 'Pac out
Back to drop out, store the blockout
Homies say the cops out, stash spot got popped out
Grind 'til I clock out, tick tock out
Shake shakin them haters off, runnin a hot route
Get my Mike Williams on, homey do not doubt
#1 in Southern Cal', knowhatI'mtalkinbout?
Suckers up top on, shut 'em out of the pros
But runnin the fo'-fo' open them do's
Run and gun how I 'em them shows
When they see he can ball, let the cold flow open them hoes
I'm here, so go against my arrival is suicidal
Homicidal dynamic certifiedal my mob or die crew
You niggaz been lied to, we the best that did it
since Big was wit it and don't forget it (M.O.B.)
("It's the real..") Money Over Bitches, the new edition
("This.. is a DJ Ski exclusive")
("The real..") Money Over Bitches, and we the new edition
("Hip-Hop..")
[Verse 2: M.O.B.]
Yeah, yeah, it's the mob nigga, ha ha
Ay Tec I get these G-Unit niggaz trippin
Talkin shit 'bout niggaz like they can't come up missin
Ay look I'm here so you don't get the story twisted
When I catch him slippin I'ma gun him down homey pay attention
You niggaz fin' to pay a visit, with readmission
What'chu know about cemetaries and morticians?
Know dat, can't run or escape like lo-jacks
With bullets that I aim cock spit and throw back
I'm Mr. Lemonhead on your block in a gold 'llac
Escaped from Death Row so stop askin where Suge at
You niggaz need your minerals, vitamins, three chemicals
Lyrically invincible spittin repeated principles
I'm killin you, I ain't feelin you meanin a war
Cause when we mob through the door, e'rybody on the floor
It's the mob [echoes]
Aiyyo whassup Game
This the biggest boss in New York, Nas
Whattup my nigga I love what you doin out there man
New York got'chu, Queensbridge got'chu
Do the damn thing
We'll probably do some shit that'll scare the shit outta y'all
Nas y'all
[Verse 1: M.O.B.]
Money Over Bitches, yeah
Watch it, when I hop out, 38 and a knockout
The studio on lockout like the day they let 'Pac out
Back to drop out, store the blockout
Homies say the cops out, stash spot got popped out
Grind 'til I clock out, tick tock out
Shake shakin them haters off, runnin a hot route
Get my Mike Williams on, homey do not doubt
#1 in Southern Cal', knowhatI'mtalkinbout?
Suckers up top on, shut 'em out of the pros
But runnin the fo'-fo' open them do's
Run and gun how I 'em them shows
When they see he can ball, let the cold flow open them hoes
I'm here, so go against my arrival is suicidal
Homicidal dynamic certifiedal my mob or die crew
You niggaz been lied to, we the best that did it
since Big was wit it and don't forget it (M.O.B.)
("It's the real..") Money Over Bitches, the new edition
("This.. is a DJ Ski exclusive")
("The real..") Money Over Bitches, and we the new edition
("Hip-Hop..")
[Verse 2: M.O.B.]
Yeah, yeah, it's the mob nigga, ha ha
Ay Tec I get these G-Unit niggaz trippin
Talkin shit 'bout niggaz like they can't come up missin
Ay look I'm here so you don't get the story twisted
When I catch him slippin I'ma gun him down homey pay attention
You niggaz fin' to pay a visit, with readmission
What'chu know about cemetaries and morticians?
Know dat, can't run or escape like lo-jacks
With bullets that I aim cock spit and throw back
I'm Mr. Lemonhead on your block in a gold 'llac
Escaped from Death Row so stop askin where Suge at
You niggaz need your minerals, vitamins, three chemicals
Lyrically invincible spittin repeated principles
I'm killin you, I ain't feelin you meanin a war
Cause when we mob through the door, e'rybody on the floor
It's the mob [echoes]
Why U Smell Like Dat lyrics - The Game (feat. Cyssero, Techniec, Eastwood)
[Joe Crack talking on phone]
[Beat starts]
[The Game]
Bbrrraappp!
[Nu Jerzy Devil]
NU JERZY DEVIL!
[The Game - talking]
Hurricane Game
the first family bitch
M.O.B
and that's Money Over Bitches!
[The Game - Intro]
I smell pussy!
Is that you Banks?
I smell pussy!
Is that you Sha?
I smell pussy!
Is that you Tony?
I smell pussy!
It's Olivia's draws!
Y'all niggaz is pussy!
[Cyssero]
I blaze with the Kays
it ain't hard to reach you now
I'm wit the Game
and you lames in the beaches now
You can hear my name
outta your speakers now
You soft fabrics
don't make me bleach you down
Put spots on ya
and I'm talking infared
Put glocks on ya
and I'm sparkin' till ya dead
You gotta brand new coffin for a bag
wit yo sleep forever
six 50 wit tha Ice
[The Game]
Money Over Bitches!
Fuckin' wit the M.O.B
you get beat wit shovels
Yo God! You from New York
then meet the Devil
Niggaz hidin' out
thinkin' that the beef will settle
Whoever knew G-Unit made pink stilletos?
Ask Buck if I squeeze my metal
life is to short so I eat, sleep shit
and breathe the ghetto
The Los Angeles king
no hockey mask
Cause when you try your face
you get shot in tha ass!
[Hook]
[The Game]
Why he smell like that?
That nigga dead!
(How he die?)
Hurricane dun shot him in the head!
Why he smell like that?
That nigga dead!
[Cyssero]
(How he die?)
Cyssero dun shot him in the head!
[The Game]
Why he smell like that?
That nigga dead!
(How he die?)
[Techniec]
Techniec dun shot him in the head!
[The Game]
Why he smell like that?
Cuz that nigga dead!
(How he die?)
[Eastwood]
Eastwood dun shot him in the head!
[Beat starts]
[The Game]
Bbrrraappp!
[Nu Jerzy Devil]
NU JERZY DEVIL!
[The Game - talking]
Hurricane Game
the first family bitch
M.O.B
and that's Money Over Bitches!
[The Game - Intro]
I smell pussy!
Is that you Banks?
I smell pussy!
Is that you Sha?
I smell pussy!
Is that you Tony?
I smell pussy!
It's Olivia's draws!
Y'all niggaz is pussy!
[Cyssero]
I blaze with the Kays
it ain't hard to reach you now
I'm wit the Game
and you lames in the beaches now
You can hear my name
outta your speakers now
You soft fabrics
don't make me bleach you down
Put spots on ya
and I'm talking infared
Put glocks on ya
and I'm sparkin' till ya dead
You gotta brand new coffin for a bag
wit yo sleep forever
six 50 wit tha Ice
[The Game]
Money Over Bitches!
Fuckin' wit the M.O.B
you get beat wit shovels
Yo God! You from New York
then meet the Devil
Niggaz hidin' out
thinkin' that the beef will settle
Whoever knew G-Unit made pink stilletos?
Ask Buck if I squeeze my metal
life is to short so I eat, sleep shit
and breathe the ghetto
The Los Angeles king
no hockey mask
Cause when you try your face
you get shot in tha ass!
[Hook]
[The Game]
Why he smell like that?
That nigga dead!
(How he die?)
Hurricane dun shot him in the head!
Why he smell like that?
That nigga dead!
[Cyssero]
(How he die?)
Cyssero dun shot him in the head!
[The Game]
Why he smell like that?
That nigga dead!
(How he die?)
[Techniec]
Techniec dun shot him in the head!
[The Game]
Why he smell like that?
Cuz that nigga dead!
(How he die?)
[Eastwood]
Eastwood dun shot him in the head!
Street Muzik lyrics - The Game (feat. Sheek Louch)
[Sheek Louch (The Game)]
There comes a time, in every man's life
When he gon' have to decide, who he fuckin with
(You know what it is motherfucker)
Who you fuckin with
Them niggaz don't care about you
Them niggaz don't give a fuck about you
Why you rappin like that? This street music!
Yo, let's, talk about it what
Sheek'll throw the fiend on a nigga guarantee he won't walk up out it
("DJ Ski!") With my nickel plated; kinda old
But the muzzle that I use'll make this motherfucker updated
Puh, nigga please; if a nigga had your son
and had him lookin down the gun you wouldn't need to squeeze
Uh uh I don't know, don't wanna hear
about the money that you had, or what you did a long time ago
Yo yo the hood is mine; I don't gotta sell a lot
I just live off more points than the porcupines
Fuh-fuh feel me cousin?
Sheek been a problem before this D-Block shit started buzzin
Some'll say no he wasn't, he turned sick
With that women in your family can suck my dick
And I been red hot e'ry since
I ain't sayin I'm the best muh'fucker, I'm just workin with {?}
[Chorus: Sheek Louch - repeat 2X]
This is that Blood, Crip, Latin King shit
Every hustler pushin a whip
(Street music) What? (Street music) What?
(Street music) What? (Street music)
[The Game]
Nigga let's (Nu Jersey) talk about it what
Banks say he bustin his gun, but I never seen a spark come out it
Now now who's the wanksta?
At Hot 97 you called police then called for peace
D-d-dear Mr. Interscope, I'll put you in a scope
Burst rounds, you the first down like a {?}
Eh eh nigga choke, now the talk of New York
is Yayo die with 50's dick in his throat
G-G-G-shit a joke; Olivia's a man
And hot damn there's a fuckin lump in his throat
Spit brrrap in my sight
If I don't catch you, I'ma catch James Cruz or Chris Lighty
Now that that that's for snitchin
You don't run through Queens, you call 911 or Supreme
I'll put you on to Game, pull a gun on your team
This for Compton, that's for Queens, cause
[Chorus]
There comes a time, in every man's life
When he gon' have to decide, who he fuckin with
(You know what it is motherfucker)
Who you fuckin with
Them niggaz don't care about you
Them niggaz don't give a fuck about you
Why you rappin like that? This street music!
Yo, let's, talk about it what
Sheek'll throw the fiend on a nigga guarantee he won't walk up out it
("DJ Ski!") With my nickel plated; kinda old
But the muzzle that I use'll make this motherfucker updated
Puh, nigga please; if a nigga had your son
and had him lookin down the gun you wouldn't need to squeeze
Uh uh I don't know, don't wanna hear
about the money that you had, or what you did a long time ago
Yo yo the hood is mine; I don't gotta sell a lot
I just live off more points than the porcupines
Fuh-fuh feel me cousin?
Sheek been a problem before this D-Block shit started buzzin
Some'll say no he wasn't, he turned sick
With that women in your family can suck my dick
And I been red hot e'ry since
I ain't sayin I'm the best muh'fucker, I'm just workin with {?}
[Chorus: Sheek Louch - repeat 2X]
This is that Blood, Crip, Latin King shit
Every hustler pushin a whip
(Street music) What? (Street music) What?
(Street music) What? (Street music)
[The Game]
Nigga let's (Nu Jersey) talk about it what
Banks say he bustin his gun, but I never seen a spark come out it
Now now who's the wanksta?
At Hot 97 you called police then called for peace
D-d-dear Mr. Interscope, I'll put you in a scope
Burst rounds, you the first down like a {?}
Eh eh nigga choke, now the talk of New York
is Yayo die with 50's dick in his throat
G-G-G-shit a joke; Olivia's a man
And hot damn there's a fuckin lump in his throat
Spit brrrap in my sight
If I don't catch you, I'ma catch James Cruz or Chris Lighty
Now that that that's for snitchin
You don't run through Queens, you call 911 or Supreme
I'll put you on to Game, pull a gun on your team
This for Compton, that's for Queens, cause
[Chorus]
Lyrical Exercise lyrics - The Game (feat. Cyssero)
[Chorus]
dis a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
[Verse 1]
I'ma flip right on the block
till I get life in the box
or till I get ice from a shot
but till den, itz chill jims
Ice and a watch
and yes nigga, we the bess nigga
like it or not
cuz ya'll be writin dead weight
like you got a red cape
when the 8 blast, ya fake xxx be scared straight
I'll rush on ya set, then cut you to death
get it right, knife stuck in ya neck
man you got two options cut me a check, or
stuff on the vest before you get bucked in the chest
I squeeze till nuffin is left
You'll get banged in the head wit revolvers like russian roulette
ya'll doin a lotta talkin, I'm tired of talkin
ya bout to hear tires screeching and iron sparkin
when the heata pop look who totin a sig
and it'll open ya lid like a sneaker box
If I creep you ock, I'ma spray ya way
In all black, like agent jay look this pay me day
I need dat, get ya spleen clapped
I'll make you bleed where you breathe at
[Chorus]
dis a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
dis a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
dis a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
[Verse 2]
my name is v I to the r you s
and a new s glock, and a new vest
and a tre pound bout to lay down
a new set, cooperate
or I'm poppn 8 leave his crew wet
shit I'ma true vet
You don't want trouble see
cuz ma name got buzz
like a bumble bee
I hustle see
pounds of the white lady
Institution flow
everything I write crazy
I like gravy nigga
so I'm seein checks
ma dough mean
I grow green, like chia pets
see the ress say ma name out they fuckn lips
like I ain't word in the streets
like I ain't fuckn cyss
dese fuckn pricks
gonna learn to respect me
or the burna leave em burned whea ya chest be
burned in a nestlee
green urble
nigga ma green purple
when I zone dat
chrome wit the beam murk you
You need a oh, see me
I get em cheap
ma feens be missin teeth like ODB
but see this ain't bite
dis a oz from C-Y
smoke it and see why
ya might O.D.
yo see
I'm survin in the jungle
spittin shottis
so a nigga gettn bodied ain't suprisin
In the jungle
but, I'ma dam rida
I'm bout a dam dolla
You need suttn to smoke
give me a dam holla
dat tam product (game - you know what it is muthafucka)
smoke so good have the fiends knockin at the door
cockin back the 4, pop out noise
I play the block but watch out for the hop out boys
shit, 5 0
drive by slow
da sig pomet
cant fuck wit pigs
suttn like islamics
all I know is
skeamin 4 cash
heatas and mags
all dat xxxx I learned
they ain't teachin in class
It started from wit an ounce in a house
I was runnin shop
make sure they had it in
and make sure they come an' cop
I'm wanted ock
fight guyz wild
when I'm the 1
with the gun
with the cyclops eye
bet suttn ock
If you bet nuttn pop
beef like sex
b strapped, and catch suttn hot
I'm dat wise, that's why I wear the mask
F-Y-I, I'm too deep to get compared to Cass
[Chorus]
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
[Verse 3]
If ya homie don't come wit half ma cheese
cuz this 3-5-7 be the mag I squeeze
For the chips I got chicks to come bag ma weed
no joke I smoke till I look half chinese
nigga
and ma eyes is about to shut
bent off a dub of haze
and a choclate dutch
I'll pop ya guts
leave ya bent ova bleedin
Ima boss, the dawgs
dat I sent ova squeezin
I can get ya house clapped up
get ya spouse snatched up
so pop, fly and get ya
mouth smacked up
act tuff
In ma pants
whea I'm tuckin the torches
still big
kill kids
like fuckn abortions
ock, I'm on the block
servin dat wet fever
o you smoke ?
1 tote, we makin em catch seizures
old heads kno I'm the truth
they bet visa's
I'm gettn bread
fuck chicken heads
I sex divas
and ma camp see ya
got an extra extra
large magazine but ya can't read it
[Chorus]
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
dis a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
[Verse 1]
I'ma flip right on the block
till I get life in the box
or till I get ice from a shot
but till den, itz chill jims
Ice and a watch
and yes nigga, we the bess nigga
like it or not
cuz ya'll be writin dead weight
like you got a red cape
when the 8 blast, ya fake xxx be scared straight
I'll rush on ya set, then cut you to death
get it right, knife stuck in ya neck
man you got two options cut me a check, or
stuff on the vest before you get bucked in the chest
I squeeze till nuffin is left
You'll get banged in the head wit revolvers like russian roulette
ya'll doin a lotta talkin, I'm tired of talkin
ya bout to hear tires screeching and iron sparkin
when the heata pop look who totin a sig
and it'll open ya lid like a sneaker box
If I creep you ock, I'ma spray ya way
In all black, like agent jay look this pay me day
I need dat, get ya spleen clapped
I'll make you bleed where you breathe at
[Chorus]
dis a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
dis a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
dis a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
[Verse 2]
my name is v I to the r you s
and a new s glock, and a new vest
and a tre pound bout to lay down
a new set, cooperate
or I'm poppn 8 leave his crew wet
shit I'ma true vet
You don't want trouble see
cuz ma name got buzz
like a bumble bee
I hustle see
pounds of the white lady
Institution flow
everything I write crazy
I like gravy nigga
so I'm seein checks
ma dough mean
I grow green, like chia pets
see the ress say ma name out they fuckn lips
like I ain't word in the streets
like I ain't fuckn cyss
dese fuckn pricks
gonna learn to respect me
or the burna leave em burned whea ya chest be
burned in a nestlee
green urble
nigga ma green purple
when I zone dat
chrome wit the beam murk you
You need a oh, see me
I get em cheap
ma feens be missin teeth like ODB
but see this ain't bite
dis a oz from C-Y
smoke it and see why
ya might O.D.
yo see
I'm survin in the jungle
spittin shottis
so a nigga gettn bodied ain't suprisin
In the jungle
but, I'ma dam rida
I'm bout a dam dolla
You need suttn to smoke
give me a dam holla
dat tam product (game - you know what it is muthafucka)
smoke so good have the fiends knockin at the door
cockin back the 4, pop out noise
I play the block but watch out for the hop out boys
shit, 5 0
drive by slow
da sig pomet
cant fuck wit pigs
suttn like islamics
all I know is
skeamin 4 cash
heatas and mags
all dat xxxx I learned
they ain't teachin in class
It started from wit an ounce in a house
I was runnin shop
make sure they had it in
and make sure they come an' cop
I'm wanted ock
fight guyz wild
when I'm the 1
with the gun
with the cyclops eye
bet suttn ock
If you bet nuttn pop
beef like sex
b strapped, and catch suttn hot
I'm dat wise, that's why I wear the mask
F-Y-I, I'm too deep to get compared to Cass
[Chorus]
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
[Verse 3]
If ya homie don't come wit half ma cheese
cuz this 3-5-7 be the mag I squeeze
For the chips I got chicks to come bag ma weed
no joke I smoke till I look half chinese
nigga
and ma eyes is about to shut
bent off a dub of haze
and a choclate dutch
I'll pop ya guts
leave ya bent ova bleedin
Ima boss, the dawgs
dat I sent ova squeezin
I can get ya house clapped up
get ya spouse snatched up
so pop, fly and get ya
mouth smacked up
act tuff
In ma pants
whea I'm tuckin the torches
still big
kill kids
like fuckn abortions
ock, I'm on the block
servin dat wet fever
o you smoke ?
1 tote, we makin em catch seizures
old heads kno I'm the truth
they bet visa's
I'm gettn bread
fuck chicken heads
I sex divas
and ma camp see ya
got an extra extra
large magazine but ya can't read it
[Chorus]
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Where I'm From lyrics - The Game (feat. Common, Dr. Dre, Nate Dogg)
[Common]
Yeah yeah whattup doe this Common right here
Look, my nigga Game, you know how we rotate
Chicago, to Compton
Gangbangin the revolution boy, aight?
Yo it's love, my nigga Game, peace
(DJ Ski, is bringin it to the streets!)
[Dr. Dre]
Streets is talkin, sayin Dre done changed
And he ain't been to the hood, well how the fuck I find Game?
I studied this rap shit, still a "Hundred Miles and Runnin'"
Still makin Aftermath classics
You might catch me out in traffic
Oh-five Aston, bitches askin "Where I'm From"
Y'all forgot who helped 50 Cent pop
I ain't spent my own money since Eminem dropped
In eighty-fo' I had the streets locked
I am to gangsta rap what Biz Markie is to beatbox
Niggaz think cause I stopped on that "Detox"
I traded in my All Stars for some Freeboks
Speakers still bumpin, the beats still comin
Compton's version of Phil Drummond
Same Dre, "Different Strokes," same six-fo', different spokes
Same "Chronic" just different smoke
[Chorus: Nate Dogg (scratches)]
If you don't know ("Aftermath, nigga with a attitude")
("Game time niggaz, Westside!") Where I'm from
("Nigga with a attitude, Straight Outta Compton we rock khakis and Chucks")
If you don't know ("Almost lost my life when Dre dropped The Chronic")
("Legend in the making") Where I'm from
("Aftermath you bastards, watch your colors in this City of Angels")
[The Game]
Y'all niggaz got it fucked up, what you thought
cause I'm from Compton I couldn't do numbers like Usher?
Platinum certified, nigga that's a mill' plus
Play both sides of the fence cause the Crips feel cuz
See me ridin with Nate, nigga it's still Bloods
You can C-Walk to this homey it's still love
Nigga I've been bangin since Mary J. did "Real Love"
(If you don't know)
I painted the Rover black
The West coast is back, I can smoke to that
Moms got the CL-6, that's a fact
I bought the house, I'm just waitin on the platinum plaques
Niggaz lookin for a cat to jack
Homey I'm willin to do two life sentences back to back
So please don't push me
You niggaz is WNBA - all pussy
[Chorus]
Yeah yeah whattup doe this Common right here
Look, my nigga Game, you know how we rotate
Chicago, to Compton
Gangbangin the revolution boy, aight?
Yo it's love, my nigga Game, peace
(DJ Ski, is bringin it to the streets!)
[Dr. Dre]
Streets is talkin, sayin Dre done changed
And he ain't been to the hood, well how the fuck I find Game?
I studied this rap shit, still a "Hundred Miles and Runnin'"
Still makin Aftermath classics
You might catch me out in traffic
Oh-five Aston, bitches askin "Where I'm From"
Y'all forgot who helped 50 Cent pop
I ain't spent my own money since Eminem dropped
In eighty-fo' I had the streets locked
I am to gangsta rap what Biz Markie is to beatbox
Niggaz think cause I stopped on that "Detox"
I traded in my All Stars for some Freeboks
Speakers still bumpin, the beats still comin
Compton's version of Phil Drummond
Same Dre, "Different Strokes," same six-fo', different spokes
Same "Chronic" just different smoke
[Chorus: Nate Dogg (scratches)]
If you don't know ("Aftermath, nigga with a attitude")
("Game time niggaz, Westside!") Where I'm from
("Nigga with a attitude, Straight Outta Compton we rock khakis and Chucks")
If you don't know ("Almost lost my life when Dre dropped The Chronic")
("Legend in the making") Where I'm from
("Aftermath you bastards, watch your colors in this City of Angels")
[The Game]
Y'all niggaz got it fucked up, what you thought
cause I'm from Compton I couldn't do numbers like Usher?
Platinum certified, nigga that's a mill' plus
Play both sides of the fence cause the Crips feel cuz
See me ridin with Nate, nigga it's still Bloods
You can C-Walk to this homey it's still love
Nigga I've been bangin since Mary J. did "Real Love"
(If you don't know)
I painted the Rover black
The West coast is back, I can smoke to that
Moms got the CL-6, that's a fact
I bought the house, I'm just waitin on the platinum plaques
Niggaz lookin for a cat to jack
Homey I'm willin to do two life sentences back to back
So please don't push me
You niggaz is WNBA - all pussy
[Chorus]
Never Be Friends lyrics - The Game
[Verse 1]
Yeah yo I walk through the valley of death
vest on teflon now I'm approached In my hurricane sweats
black chrome on my shoulder, big wheel till It's over
he never got to see me put black chrome on the rover
readin your obituary, wishin we never met
so I wouldn't have to shed tears or wake up In cold sweats
lookin at this bottle of hennessy wishin you never left
wishin I chased your Monte Carlo down and gave you my vest
or better yet, I wish they never let you out
and I never got that phone call tellin me that you out
wish you never signed the release form
I wouldn't have to clear this sample
or use this track to say rest In peace for him
you wanted to know If Dre and Em felt you?
they did and before I could tell you somebody killed you
I feel pain for everybody whoever knew the real you
call Nas let him know I got a Ill Will too
[Chorus x2]
My nigga, If you look In the mirror
would you see things clearer?
my nigga who I live, who I live for
my nigga
and you know where you headed
do you know who you are
and why you do the things you do?
my nigga
[Verse 2]
Niggaz politicin' wanna know why I'm rhymin different
my best friend got murdered nigga my mind is different
If you ain't never spend no time In prison
you can't understand these bars or the lines I'm spittin
niggaz rilin' me up, lets go find the victim
I can't do It homie thats the reason shyne In prison
and through devine Intervention
10 plus years doing crime In the trenches
multiplied by the time that we spent In the kitchen
I'ts a life worth of hard livin
cuban cigar tippin, 12th grade ditchin
purple served by the jar sippin
If you lost a homie, you know freindship is God given
I done seen the church so much, you'd think I was born Christian
I done seen more dead bodies than a mortitian
seen niggaz In and out of county blues like they was born crippin
so I'ma keep on livin
cuz when I'm gone niggaz ain't gon do shit but fuck my bitch and pour liqour
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 3]
What If you was me? and you had to sit through an entire funeral
while the pastor readin your homeboyz eulogy
I'm already dead, what the fuck you gon do to me?
keep talkin shit I'll empty my clip and G-unity
gimme a minute to say my grace with God
I see your face in the mirror
I came a long way to talk and tell you
your moms is missin you
your pops is missin you
just saw your baby pictures In your grandmothers living room
Face is missin you
homie Wink is missin you
thank God you left us memories and songs to listen to
Vale is missin you
the hood is missin you
let my son graduate high school, and I'ma come visit you
the world is missin you
Eminem was feelin you
Dre said he felt your vibe the little time he spent with you
pour the henny out cause he ain't here in the physical
they say real men don't cry but nigga I'm missin you
Yeah yo I walk through the valley of death
vest on teflon now I'm approached In my hurricane sweats
black chrome on my shoulder, big wheel till It's over
he never got to see me put black chrome on the rover
readin your obituary, wishin we never met
so I wouldn't have to shed tears or wake up In cold sweats
lookin at this bottle of hennessy wishin you never left
wishin I chased your Monte Carlo down and gave you my vest
or better yet, I wish they never let you out
and I never got that phone call tellin me that you out
wish you never signed the release form
I wouldn't have to clear this sample
or use this track to say rest In peace for him
you wanted to know If Dre and Em felt you?
they did and before I could tell you somebody killed you
I feel pain for everybody whoever knew the real you
call Nas let him know I got a Ill Will too
[Chorus x2]
My nigga, If you look In the mirror
would you see things clearer?
my nigga who I live, who I live for
my nigga
and you know where you headed
do you know who you are
and why you do the things you do?
my nigga
[Verse 2]
Niggaz politicin' wanna know why I'm rhymin different
my best friend got murdered nigga my mind is different
If you ain't never spend no time In prison
you can't understand these bars or the lines I'm spittin
niggaz rilin' me up, lets go find the victim
I can't do It homie thats the reason shyne In prison
and through devine Intervention
10 plus years doing crime In the trenches
multiplied by the time that we spent In the kitchen
I'ts a life worth of hard livin
cuban cigar tippin, 12th grade ditchin
purple served by the jar sippin
If you lost a homie, you know freindship is God given
I done seen the church so much, you'd think I was born Christian
I done seen more dead bodies than a mortitian
seen niggaz In and out of county blues like they was born crippin
so I'ma keep on livin
cuz when I'm gone niggaz ain't gon do shit but fuck my bitch and pour liqour
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 3]
What If you was me? and you had to sit through an entire funeral
while the pastor readin your homeboyz eulogy
I'm already dead, what the fuck you gon do to me?
keep talkin shit I'll empty my clip and G-unity
gimme a minute to say my grace with God
I see your face in the mirror
I came a long way to talk and tell you
your moms is missin you
your pops is missin you
just saw your baby pictures In your grandmothers living room
Face is missin you
homie Wink is missin you
thank God you left us memories and songs to listen to
Vale is missin you
the hood is missin you
let my son graduate high school, and I'ma come visit you
the world is missin you
Eminem was feelin you
Dre said he felt your vibe the little time he spent with you
pour the henny out cause he ain't here in the physical
they say real men don't cry but nigga I'm missin you
Swallow That Slug lyrics - The Game (feat. Chuck B More)
[The Game]
Lets get back to some killa shittt [echoes]
[Chuck B. More]
[Chorus 2x]
Few times he been around this hood
If he ain't got a vest on, it ain't all good
and he ain't gon' swallow that slug
he ain't gon' swallow that slug
there's that clip, there's that (g-unit) crip [3X]
see my niggas in the hood hoppin out them lo-los
when they pull they gats out they ain't playing
so get your bitch-ass out the way or u gon get your crew laid down
when them hollow tips hit you, your chest start burnin
if you dont fall down my niggas keep sprayin
it won't stop till everybody dead, if not they circle around
[Chorus 2x]
Few times he been around this hood
If he ain't got a vest on, it ain't all good
and he aint gon' swallow that slug
he aint gon' swallow that slug
there's that clip, there's that (g-unit) Crip [3X]
hit yo switch on the '64, then pull the glock out
let the world know my clips extended
take it back to P.A. in '89
when the JVM shut it downn
when i hear them sirens
imma hit the switch slide off from seat ridin 3 wheel motion
(G-U N O T Another one bites the slug)
[Chorus 2x]
Few times he been around this hood
If he aint got a vest on, it aint all good
and he aint gon' swallow that slug
he aint gon' swallow that slug
There's that clip, there's that (g-unit) crip [3X]
and
Feed Them Bananas B-A-N-A-N-A-S [4X]
Lets get back to some killa shittt [echoes]
[Chuck B. More]
[Chorus 2x]
Few times he been around this hood
If he ain't got a vest on, it ain't all good
and he ain't gon' swallow that slug
he ain't gon' swallow that slug
there's that clip, there's that (g-unit) crip [3X]
see my niggas in the hood hoppin out them lo-los
when they pull they gats out they ain't playing
so get your bitch-ass out the way or u gon get your crew laid down
when them hollow tips hit you, your chest start burnin
if you dont fall down my niggas keep sprayin
it won't stop till everybody dead, if not they circle around
[Chorus 2x]
Few times he been around this hood
If he ain't got a vest on, it ain't all good
and he aint gon' swallow that slug
he aint gon' swallow that slug
there's that clip, there's that (g-unit) Crip [3X]
hit yo switch on the '64, then pull the glock out
let the world know my clips extended
take it back to P.A. in '89
when the JVM shut it downn
when i hear them sirens
imma hit the switch slide off from seat ridin 3 wheel motion
(G-U N O T Another one bites the slug)
[Chorus 2x]
Few times he been around this hood
If he aint got a vest on, it aint all good
and he aint gon' swallow that slug
he aint gon' swallow that slug
There's that clip, there's that (g-unit) crip [3X]
and
Feed Them Bananas B-A-N-A-N-A-S [4X]
Hate It Or Love It (Street Remix) lyrics - The Game
[50 Cent]
That'll be the end of 50 Cent or Shady/Aftermath
I'm movin' forward in my career
As Dre had got creatively tied up on to The Game project
If he's confused [echo]..
[Verse 1 - The Game]
Comin' up he was confused his mama kissin' a girl
This shit happen in my household I might hurl
Daddy ain't around probably out doin' crack
And Scarface told me a snitch is just like a rat
Wanna live good so he snitched on thugs
Somebody must have told him steroids wasn't a drug
Walk around town everyday in that snitch coat
Put niggaz behind bars but homie that ain't dope
Boy toss and turn in his sleep at night
Wake up in the morning watch Cops and Miami Vice
Different day same snitch ain't nothin' good in the hood
He'd run away from New York and never come back if he could
[Chorus - The Game]
Hate it or love it the underdogs on top
And he gon tell and go runnin' to the cops
Go 'head snitch on me, I'm raps MVP
And I ain't goin no where so dey come and get me
[x2]
[Verse 2 - The Game]
G-G-G-G-Unot!
On the grill of my low rider
Guns on both sides right up by the gold wires
I'll fo' five 'em
Kill Banks on my song and really do it
that's the true meaning of a ghost rider
Ten g's will take Yayo out his Air Forces
Believe in me homie I know all about losses
I'm from Compton where the wrong colours be cautious
One phone call will have his body broke in parts and
I stay strapped like car seats
Been bangin' since my 'lil nigga Rob, got killed for his Barkley's
That's ten years I told Buck in '05
I catch 50 let me tie up my Air Max '95's
Told you niggaz when I met you I'ma rider
And if I got a die I'd rather homicide
I ain't have 50 Cent when my grandma died
Now I'm goin' back to Cali
Same Jacob on, see how time fly?
[Chorus]
[Verse 3 - The Game]
From the beginning to the end, losers lose
When it's win this is real we ain't gotta pretend
The cold world that we in
It's full of pressure and pain
Enough of that faggot now listen to Game
Told Dre from the gate I'd carry the heat for ya
First mixtape song I inherited beef for ya
Gritted my teeth for ya, G-G-G-G'd for ya
Put Compton on my back when you was in need of soldiers
At my last show I threw away my NWA gold
And had the whole crowd yellin' "FUCK YAYO"
So niggaz betta get up outta mine
Fo' I creep and turn violater into Colombine
And I'm raps MVP, dont make me remind y'all Yayo was NBC
That nigga ain't Gotti, he pretend
Mad at me cuz Olivia got a new boyfriend
It seems like ya 'lil rat turned out to be a mouse
Beef shit is for the birds and the birds fly south
Even 50 Cent can vouch, when the doubts was out
I gave G-Unit mouth-to-mouth
[Chorus]
That'll be the end of 50 Cent or Shady/Aftermath
I'm movin' forward in my career
As Dre had got creatively tied up on to The Game project
If he's confused [echo]..
[Verse 1 - The Game]
Comin' up he was confused his mama kissin' a girl
This shit happen in my household I might hurl
Daddy ain't around probably out doin' crack
And Scarface told me a snitch is just like a rat
Wanna live good so he snitched on thugs
Somebody must have told him steroids wasn't a drug
Walk around town everyday in that snitch coat
Put niggaz behind bars but homie that ain't dope
Boy toss and turn in his sleep at night
Wake up in the morning watch Cops and Miami Vice
Different day same snitch ain't nothin' good in the hood
He'd run away from New York and never come back if he could
[Chorus - The Game]
Hate it or love it the underdogs on top
And he gon tell and go runnin' to the cops
Go 'head snitch on me, I'm raps MVP
And I ain't goin no where so dey come and get me
[x2]
[Verse 2 - The Game]
G-G-G-G-Unot!
On the grill of my low rider
Guns on both sides right up by the gold wires
I'll fo' five 'em
Kill Banks on my song and really do it
that's the true meaning of a ghost rider
Ten g's will take Yayo out his Air Forces
Believe in me homie I know all about losses
I'm from Compton where the wrong colours be cautious
One phone call will have his body broke in parts and
I stay strapped like car seats
Been bangin' since my 'lil nigga Rob, got killed for his Barkley's
That's ten years I told Buck in '05
I catch 50 let me tie up my Air Max '95's
Told you niggaz when I met you I'ma rider
And if I got a die I'd rather homicide
I ain't have 50 Cent when my grandma died
Now I'm goin' back to Cali
Same Jacob on, see how time fly?
[Chorus]
[Verse 3 - The Game]
From the beginning to the end, losers lose
When it's win this is real we ain't gotta pretend
The cold world that we in
It's full of pressure and pain
Enough of that faggot now listen to Game
Told Dre from the gate I'd carry the heat for ya
First mixtape song I inherited beef for ya
Gritted my teeth for ya, G-G-G-G'd for ya
Put Compton on my back when you was in need of soldiers
At my last show I threw away my NWA gold
And had the whole crowd yellin' "FUCK YAYO"
So niggaz betta get up outta mine
Fo' I creep and turn violater into Colombine
And I'm raps MVP, dont make me remind y'all Yayo was NBC
That nigga ain't Gotti, he pretend
Mad at me cuz Olivia got a new boyfriend
It seems like ya 'lil rat turned out to be a mouse
Beef shit is for the birds and the birds fly south
Even 50 Cent can vouch, when the doubts was out
I gave G-Unit mouth-to-mouth
[Chorus]
All I Need lyrics - The Game
All I need in this world is my bitch, my bitch
My glock nine, my fo five
My shotgun, I'll kill you nigga
All I need in this world is my bitch, my bitch
My glock nine, my fo five
My shotgun, I'll kill you nigga
Lemme tell you a story bout these punk rap niggaz
Play tough but they whole fuckin life made up
I'ma start wit 50 cause I used to roll wit him
He neva smoked weed so how could I blow wit him
Shoulda knew he was a fag by the way his clothes fit him
Tight G Unit jeans brought out the ho in him
Had one lil girlfriend and that was fixed
Somebody musta told Vivica her boyfriend like dick
Lloyd Banks knew, he told me that shit
I told Buck and Buck told me he ridin wit his clique
So I start ridin wit Fat Joe and Kiss
Made a good choice cause afta that Yayo bricked
So I gave away my chain and decided to keep movin
Now I'd ratha burn in hell then yell G Unit
Thats the truth nigga word to Seagle
Sleep on The Game and wake up to a gold desert eagle
All I need in this world is my bitch, my bitch
My glock nine, my fo five
My shotgun, I'll kill you nigga
All I need in this world is my bitch, my bitch
My glock nine, my fo five
My shotgun, I'll kill you nigga
50 what happened to ya movie, the soundtracks
Chicken Little killed you niggaz you'll never bounce back
I paid 19 dollars to see that shit
My bitch said you was naked I ain't see that shit
You and Olivia in the shower, my bad that was Terrence Howard
A lil Hustle & Flow and a damn coward
I had to sit there for 80 minutes
The best actor in the movie was the baby in it
This ain't New Jack City and it can't be Menace
The worst actor in the world, you made the Guinness
I made G-Unot and that made you finished
I put two quarters in and I played you niggaz
Fuck Mobb Deep the lil thugs turned sissy
And Mase traded holy water for some Formula 50
Fuck Mobb Deep the lil thugs turned sissy
And Mase traded holy water for some Formula 50
Fuck Mobb Deep the lil thugs turned sissy
And Mase traded holy water for some Formula 50
Tell niggaz come get me, I got a glock nine
I'ma window shoppa cause I ain't got drop a dime
My glock nine, my fo five
My shotgun, I'll kill you nigga
All I need in this world is my bitch, my bitch
My glock nine, my fo five
My shotgun, I'll kill you nigga
Lemme tell you a story bout these punk rap niggaz
Play tough but they whole fuckin life made up
I'ma start wit 50 cause I used to roll wit him
He neva smoked weed so how could I blow wit him
Shoulda knew he was a fag by the way his clothes fit him
Tight G Unit jeans brought out the ho in him
Had one lil girlfriend and that was fixed
Somebody musta told Vivica her boyfriend like dick
Lloyd Banks knew, he told me that shit
I told Buck and Buck told me he ridin wit his clique
So I start ridin wit Fat Joe and Kiss
Made a good choice cause afta that Yayo bricked
So I gave away my chain and decided to keep movin
Now I'd ratha burn in hell then yell G Unit
Thats the truth nigga word to Seagle
Sleep on The Game and wake up to a gold desert eagle
All I need in this world is my bitch, my bitch
My glock nine, my fo five
My shotgun, I'll kill you nigga
All I need in this world is my bitch, my bitch
My glock nine, my fo five
My shotgun, I'll kill you nigga
50 what happened to ya movie, the soundtracks
Chicken Little killed you niggaz you'll never bounce back
I paid 19 dollars to see that shit
My bitch said you was naked I ain't see that shit
You and Olivia in the shower, my bad that was Terrence Howard
A lil Hustle & Flow and a damn coward
I had to sit there for 80 minutes
The best actor in the movie was the baby in it
This ain't New Jack City and it can't be Menace
The worst actor in the world, you made the Guinness
I made G-Unot and that made you finished
I put two quarters in and I played you niggaz
Fuck Mobb Deep the lil thugs turned sissy
And Mase traded holy water for some Formula 50
Fuck Mobb Deep the lil thugs turned sissy
And Mase traded holy water for some Formula 50
Fuck Mobb Deep the lil thugs turned sissy
And Mase traded holy water for some Formula 50
Tell niggaz come get me, I got a glock nine
I'ma window shoppa cause I ain't got drop a dime
Playas Only lyrics - The Game (feat. R. Kelly)
[The Game]
Bells, it's the new "12Play"
Bells (Game y'all) throw the pussy like Elway
Bells, I wanna see your tail shake
Bells, when you hear R. Kel' say
[R. Kelly]
Players only
We where them tricks be jerkin they bodies
Up in the club where they get real naughty
They come from here to the private party
Where there ain't nothin but - players only
Where the players be spendin a lot of dough
Honies got ass bouncin on the flo'
This is how we do behind the player's do'
[The Game]
I'm still fresh like uhh, Impala uhh
Trey's young gun still ridin the bass, drum
(Sha) Four times plati-num
"Hate it or Love It," I'm still number - one
Still in the hood one hand on my gun
And my trigger finger still make bitches come
I mean the one with the ring in her tongue
Compton R., Kelly found her in the slums
Shakin that rump, both hands on her pumps
Send her home with me, I'll have your girl yellin UHHH
Kels my bitch drunk
But her two girlfriends still wanna have, fun
Pass the blunt, let her drink red rum
Bet she ain't never seen the penthouse at The Trump
Me and R. been around the world
And we'll give it to you just how you like it girrrrl
[R. Kelly]
Girl you on a mission
Up in the club, shuttin down competition
That way you walk it, talk it, switch it
And when the doors close handle yo' business
Now make your booty go
(Boom, boom-boom-boom) break it down now
(Boom, boom-boom-boom) bring it up now
(Boom, boom-boom-boom) push it back girl
(Boom, boom-boom-boom)
[The Game]
Kels you crazy [repeats]
Bells, it's the new "12Play"
Bells (Game y'all) throw the pussy like Elway
Bells, I wanna see your tail shake
Bells, when you hear R. Kel' say
[R. Kelly]
Players only
We where them tricks be jerkin they bodies
Up in the club where they get real naughty
They come from here to the private party
Where there ain't nothin but - players only
Where the players be spendin a lot of dough
Honies got ass bouncin on the flo'
This is how we do behind the player's do'
[The Game]
I'm still fresh like uhh, Impala uhh
Trey's young gun still ridin the bass, drum
(Sha) Four times plati-num
"Hate it or Love It," I'm still number - one
Still in the hood one hand on my gun
And my trigger finger still make bitches come
I mean the one with the ring in her tongue
Compton R., Kelly found her in the slums
Shakin that rump, both hands on her pumps
Send her home with me, I'll have your girl yellin UHHH
Kels my bitch drunk
But her two girlfriends still wanna have, fun
Pass the blunt, let her drink red rum
Bet she ain't never seen the penthouse at The Trump
Me and R. been around the world
And we'll give it to you just how you like it girrrrl
[R. Kelly]
Girl you on a mission
Up in the club, shuttin down competition
That way you walk it, talk it, switch it
And when the doors close handle yo' business
Now make your booty go
(Boom, boom-boom-boom) break it down now
(Boom, boom-boom-boom) bring it up now
(Boom, boom-boom-boom) push it back girl
(Boom, boom-boom-boom)
[The Game]
Kels you crazy [repeats]
Dreams (Street Remix) lyrics - The Game (feat. Kanye West, Notorious B.I.G.)
[Kanye West]
Yo whassup this is Kanye-to-the
Y'know good music is in the building
The Roc is in the building
I just called, called to shoutout my dawg Game
Chillin in the streets right now
That "Dreams" joint is crazy
We gotta get, get started on our next joint my nigga
Holla
[Notorious B.I.G.]
It was all a dream...
(Was it all a dream?) [2X]
(Was it all a dream?) Dream (dream) dream (dream) dream
(Was it all a dream?) ([Jay-Z:] "It was all a dream") [3X]
[Notorious B.I.G.]
It was all a dream; I used to read Word Up magazine
Salt'n'Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine
Hangin pictures on my wall
Every Saturday, Rap Attack - Mr. Magic, Marley Marl
I let my tape rock 'til my tape popped
Smokin weed and bamboo, sippin on private stock
Way back, when I had the red and black lumberjack
With the hat to match
(Jay-Z: "It was all a dream") Duh-ha, duh-ha
You never thought that hip-hop would take it this far
Now I'm in the {dream} cause I rhyme {dream}
Time to get paid, blow up like the World Trade
Born sinner, the opposite of a winner
Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner
Peace to Ron G, Brucey B, Kid Capri
Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starsky
I'm blowin up like you thought I would
Call the crib, same number same hood, it's {dream}
[The Game]
Aaliyah had a {dream} Left Eye had a {dream}
[Notorious B.I.G.]
And if you don't know, now you know
It was all a dream ([Jay-Z:] "It was all a dream") [4X]
It was all a dream
Yo whassup this is Kanye-to-the
Y'know good music is in the building
The Roc is in the building
I just called, called to shoutout my dawg Game
Chillin in the streets right now
That "Dreams" joint is crazy
We gotta get, get started on our next joint my nigga
Holla
[Notorious B.I.G.]
It was all a dream...
(Was it all a dream?) [2X]
(Was it all a dream?) Dream (dream) dream (dream) dream
(Was it all a dream?) ([Jay-Z:] "It was all a dream") [3X]
[Notorious B.I.G.]
It was all a dream; I used to read Word Up magazine
Salt'n'Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine
Hangin pictures on my wall
Every Saturday, Rap Attack - Mr. Magic, Marley Marl
I let my tape rock 'til my tape popped
Smokin weed and bamboo, sippin on private stock
Way back, when I had the red and black lumberjack
With the hat to match
(Jay-Z: "It was all a dream") Duh-ha, duh-ha
You never thought that hip-hop would take it this far
Now I'm in the {dream} cause I rhyme {dream}
Time to get paid, blow up like the World Trade
Born sinner, the opposite of a winner
Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner
Peace to Ron G, Brucey B, Kid Capri
Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starsky
I'm blowin up like you thought I would
Call the crib, same number same hood, it's {dream}
[The Game]
Aaliyah had a {dream} Left Eye had a {dream}
[Notorious B.I.G.]
And if you don't know, now you know
It was all a dream ([Jay-Z:] "It was all a dream") [4X]
It was all a dream
Justo Tribute lyrics - The Game
[Justo]
What up? I be the one they call Justo if you didn't know
Trying to check my man DJ Skee with his new mix-tape
Pick it up you square, you heard what I'm said?
[The Game]
It's another sad day in Hip-Hop
We lost another one of our brothers, Justo Faison
We love you, and we'll always miss you
Mix-Tape King, forever
[Chorus]
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
[Verse 1]
I picked up my pen four years from the date
Never thought I'd be rapping, and be signed to Dre
Never been to New York, I had to find a way
So I dropped 40 bars on the Clue mix-tape
On the Birdman beat, then my name started buzzing
Aftermath's young gun, and now everybody love him
I hooked up with Gavin, Foxy's little brother
He took me to Kay Slay, and Slay put me on the cover
Drama King, I should of known, 'cause all of the sudden
MC's calling my name and I'm beefing with Joe Budden
That beef came and went, I got at him over Colors
Then caught him at Def Jam and found out, it was nothing
Looked back at my career, staring out at the City
Thinking about the biddin' war between Dre and Diddy
If I was signed to Bad Boy, would 50 be on the Math?
Probably not but maybe Justo wouldn't have crashed
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
I remember when Funk Flex first heard me flow
And sway let me freestyle on the wakeup show
Spit over 100 bars then Miss Jones started to host
That's when they start showing me love on the east coast
Then more people found out I was with Dre
And at bodegas I'm on 9 outta 10 of the mix-tapes
I'm workin' on my album and the world can't wait
Cover of the Vibe, and I ain't even have a release date
Then I met Justo he told me if I stay hungry
I'd go platinum and nobody can take that from me
He joked about my rap beefs, I thought it was funny
Gave him a pound then slid him 200 Bars and Runnin'
Went upstairs to change, got dinner at five
Went to Houston's and that's the first time I met Nas
Had Billboard with me and two months later he died
So this is what it sounds like when thugs cry
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
Markin' off days on the calendar I can't even sleep
Like a convict, waitin' on January 18th
When the Documentary dropped, it flooded the streets
My mix-tape buzz made me gold the first week
Double platinum in two months
Record labels getting' scared
Cause the kid from Compton selling like Sunny and Cher
Mix-Tape awards came around, glad I was there
To get my award, Mix-Tape Artist of the Year
Stepped on stage, and Justo let 'em know
You might as well crown him the new kind of the West Coast
A couple of months passed we ain't speak
My Sidekick went off "Justo Rest in Peace"
I let everybody from Snoop to Busta know
A car crash just claimed the life of Justo
They say the good die young, if you know like I know
Live your life to the fullest one day we all gotta go
[The Game]
Give a moment of silence
If you're wearing a Fitted Cap take it off
If you driving, pull over to the side of the road
We lost an underground legend
Justo Faison
Mix-tape King
Rest in Peace
What up? I be the one they call Justo if you didn't know
Trying to check my man DJ Skee with his new mix-tape
Pick it up you square, you heard what I'm said?
[The Game]
It's another sad day in Hip-Hop
We lost another one of our brothers, Justo Faison
We love you, and we'll always miss you
Mix-Tape King, forever
[Chorus]
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
[Verse 1]
I picked up my pen four years from the date
Never thought I'd be rapping, and be signed to Dre
Never been to New York, I had to find a way
So I dropped 40 bars on the Clue mix-tape
On the Birdman beat, then my name started buzzing
Aftermath's young gun, and now everybody love him
I hooked up with Gavin, Foxy's little brother
He took me to Kay Slay, and Slay put me on the cover
Drama King, I should of known, 'cause all of the sudden
MC's calling my name and I'm beefing with Joe Budden
That beef came and went, I got at him over Colors
Then caught him at Def Jam and found out, it was nothing
Looked back at my career, staring out at the City
Thinking about the biddin' war between Dre and Diddy
If I was signed to Bad Boy, would 50 be on the Math?
Probably not but maybe Justo wouldn't have crashed
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
I remember when Funk Flex first heard me flow
And sway let me freestyle on the wakeup show
Spit over 100 bars then Miss Jones started to host
That's when they start showing me love on the east coast
Then more people found out I was with Dre
And at bodegas I'm on 9 outta 10 of the mix-tapes
I'm workin' on my album and the world can't wait
Cover of the Vibe, and I ain't even have a release date
Then I met Justo he told me if I stay hungry
I'd go platinum and nobody can take that from me
He joked about my rap beefs, I thought it was funny
Gave him a pound then slid him 200 Bars and Runnin'
Went upstairs to change, got dinner at five
Went to Houston's and that's the first time I met Nas
Had Billboard with me and two months later he died
So this is what it sounds like when thugs cry
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
Markin' off days on the calendar I can't even sleep
Like a convict, waitin' on January 18th
When the Documentary dropped, it flooded the streets
My mix-tape buzz made me gold the first week
Double platinum in two months
Record labels getting' scared
Cause the kid from Compton selling like Sunny and Cher
Mix-Tape awards came around, glad I was there
To get my award, Mix-Tape Artist of the Year
Stepped on stage, and Justo let 'em know
You might as well crown him the new kind of the West Coast
A couple of months passed we ain't speak
My Sidekick went off "Justo Rest in Peace"
I let everybody from Snoop to Busta know
A car crash just claimed the life of Justo
They say the good die young, if you know like I know
Live your life to the fullest one day we all gotta go
[The Game]
Give a moment of silence
If you're wearing a Fitted Cap take it off
If you driving, pull over to the side of the road
We lost an underground legend
Justo Faison
Mix-tape King
Rest in Peace
Neighborhood Supa Starz lyrics - The Game (feat. JT the Bigga Figga)
[The Game]
You can catch five, or catch me in the CL-5
Whatever way dog, the Game get live
Keepin it gangsta in a P.D. city velour
Late night I'm in Dublin's and I got myself a four
The hood love me, hoodrats gotta hug me
Pop ex, spark the buba, the shit get ugly
Rock the mic anywhere, and I ain't talkin 'bout a concert dog
Talkin 'bout ten niggaz in Converse dog
Get it crackin like we out in the yard, and the warden's watchin
Only difference is the whores is watchin
Still love to see a nigga, roll up on 20's
Hop in that six-four, roll up on Bentley's like
I'm a gangsta bay-bee, from the C-P-T
Run with the (Pound) like I'm from DPG
If it's beef, you C-Murder like it ain't No Limit
And I represent the P like Russell Simmons
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
I'm a neighborhood superstar, get it, right
Got it? Good, okay
It's the Black Sox and Get Low we get dough
In the Yay they pimp hoes, in Compton we six-fo'
[JT the Bigga Figga]
I know ya, love to watch me, 'specially when I'm lookin rocky
The trey with the broccoli with my handles on the Kawasaki
Handle my jewels with the cuff in my shoes
AD jacket on my elbow, 50 coast the jewels
In my neighborhood I'm Young Bill Gates, never shuffle the cake
So cover my face, and run up in the place
I'm a superstar, dick and my chain, glass bezel and bang
80 karats on my pinky and rang
Crews buzz when you speakin my name, cause I'm deep in the game
With top cool thangs and million dollar planes
I'm a maniac, young boy gone, like a young Roy Jones
You ought of my zone and ain't nobody home
In my neighborhood, produce stars, stakes is high
Now we soarin through the spacious skies
Drop yo' body with them cakes and ride, the handle is up
Switchin gears with the pedal and ride
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I'm a shining star
And I gotta hit the boulevard in that new Jaguar
Why he move through traffic like that, purple haze
Ralways, the Ojays, the gangsta lean so
Please believe that I keep two G's in my jeans
Two gats in my sleeve, two rats in my Beam'
X-5, mami let's ride
Weave in and out of traffic from Compton to Bed-Stuy
It's the kid from the far West I, oh, shit
He know how to do more than flip pies
Get money like them stick up guys
Them "Ocean 11" licks got the young kid rich for life
And I talkin 'bout a movie or George Clooney
I'm talkin 'bout, runnin in your spots with uzis tucked in the Coogi
Dude me? Naw truly, might lose your lives
They say I've, got 2K2 covered like A.I.
[Chorus]
[JT]
Yeah mayne, I told y'all mayne
Fillmoe California nigga where we launch the best nigga
JT the Bigga Figga, San Quinn, D-Moe the Yungsta, Seff the Gaffla
Introducin the Game
Nigga the first nigga I went and got outside of the Fillmoe district
Y'knahmtalkinbout? Yeah mayne
And we gon' pass him on off to Aftermath Records mayne
So they can take him to the T-O-P
Y'knahmtalkinbout Dr. Dre and the whole Aftermath staff, y'knahmtalkinbout?
But this album right here, this a Get Low, JT the Bigga Figga production
My nigga Charlie-O on the beat, y'knahmtalkinbout?
And we keepin it real thuggish mayne, Bay Area style nigga
Black Wall Street, now let's get MONEY!
You can catch five, or catch me in the CL-5
Whatever way dog, the Game get live
Keepin it gangsta in a P.D. city velour
Late night I'm in Dublin's and I got myself a four
The hood love me, hoodrats gotta hug me
Pop ex, spark the buba, the shit get ugly
Rock the mic anywhere, and I ain't talkin 'bout a concert dog
Talkin 'bout ten niggaz in Converse dog
Get it crackin like we out in the yard, and the warden's watchin
Only difference is the whores is watchin
Still love to see a nigga, roll up on 20's
Hop in that six-four, roll up on Bentley's like
I'm a gangsta bay-bee, from the C-P-T
Run with the (Pound) like I'm from DPG
If it's beef, you C-Murder like it ain't No Limit
And I represent the P like Russell Simmons
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
I'm a neighborhood superstar, get it, right
Got it? Good, okay
It's the Black Sox and Get Low we get dough
In the Yay they pimp hoes, in Compton we six-fo'
[JT the Bigga Figga]
I know ya, love to watch me, 'specially when I'm lookin rocky
The trey with the broccoli with my handles on the Kawasaki
Handle my jewels with the cuff in my shoes
AD jacket on my elbow, 50 coast the jewels
In my neighborhood I'm Young Bill Gates, never shuffle the cake
So cover my face, and run up in the place
I'm a superstar, dick and my chain, glass bezel and bang
80 karats on my pinky and rang
Crews buzz when you speakin my name, cause I'm deep in the game
With top cool thangs and million dollar planes
I'm a maniac, young boy gone, like a young Roy Jones
You ought of my zone and ain't nobody home
In my neighborhood, produce stars, stakes is high
Now we soarin through the spacious skies
Drop yo' body with them cakes and ride, the handle is up
Switchin gears with the pedal and ride
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I'm a shining star
And I gotta hit the boulevard in that new Jaguar
Why he move through traffic like that, purple haze
Ralways, the Ojays, the gangsta lean so
Please believe that I keep two G's in my jeans
Two gats in my sleeve, two rats in my Beam'
X-5, mami let's ride
Weave in and out of traffic from Compton to Bed-Stuy
It's the kid from the far West I, oh, shit
He know how to do more than flip pies
Get money like them stick up guys
Them "Ocean 11" licks got the young kid rich for life
And I talkin 'bout a movie or George Clooney
I'm talkin 'bout, runnin in your spots with uzis tucked in the Coogi
Dude me? Naw truly, might lose your lives
They say I've, got 2K2 covered like A.I.
[Chorus]
[JT]
Yeah mayne, I told y'all mayne
Fillmoe California nigga where we launch the best nigga
JT the Bigga Figga, San Quinn, D-Moe the Yungsta, Seff the Gaffla
Introducin the Game
Nigga the first nigga I went and got outside of the Fillmoe district
Y'knahmtalkinbout? Yeah mayne
And we gon' pass him on off to Aftermath Records mayne
So they can take him to the T-O-P
Y'knahmtalkinbout Dr. Dre and the whole Aftermath staff, y'knahmtalkinbout?
But this album right here, this a Get Low, JT the Bigga Figga production
My nigga Charlie-O on the beat, y'knahmtalkinbout?
And we keepin it real thuggish mayne, Bay Area style nigga
Black Wall Street, now let's get MONEY!
When Shit Get Thick lyrics - The Game (feat. JT the Bigga Figga, Sean T)
[20 second instrumental to open]
[The Game]
Who really the best rapper since 'Pac got killed
I done answered that question when I copped my deal
Ask yourself when the Game is comin, after next summer
I predict my shit'll drop before the next Howard homecoming
Now who in the runnin, no one, ask the niggaz who want it
I got a four-fifth and it just like me, it stay gunnin
Me and my niggaz stay blunted fogged up in the 600
Guilty as charged, blunts in the air, guns in the doors
It's written, Compton niggaz never run from the law
Plus we get Monopoly money with hotels and a board
So I'll never see a jail, and I'm allergic to bars
Can't sit behind 'em or drink at 'em, so we travel with ours
Poppin Crist' in the 6, like we drivin through Mardi Gras
Thinkin 'bout beads and titties as I roll through the city
And I keep 16 in the clip, and I let 'em all go
like the Lakers did Ellie, Atty and Nick, huh
[Chorus]
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent, cause
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent
[Sean T]
No garbage we smoke molta, move big cocoa
We off the train tracks like the great space coaster
We hit real big and consistant like Sam Sosa
Prepare for war, like United States soldiers
Lock tight and rock right like grey eight oz's
I'll be hittin up spots, in them flip Range Rovers
Before you even try to play, foolish all over
Empty out yo' pockets, turn everything over
We ball out cursin yeah we keep it the sickest
When we roll by the quads in them Z-66's
Big spittin, grip kitten, that big face greed
Always dirty never clean but we live like kings
Legendary like Sting, it's a history to follow
But not known for stingin known for gettin off hollows
Shoot me a glass of Remy, nah fuck it the whole bottle
And watch me act bad and take off, full throttle
[Chorus]
[JT the Bigga Figga]
I'm from a batch where it ain't no cut, we all in
36 on a triple beam scale for meal
Duffle bag on my shoulder my route, through the back of the jet
To bag up baguettes and everybody know it
I'm the iceholder makin the cut, never breakin 'em up
My favorite color is rainbowed up
Ain't a coke dealer, but I got bricks for cheap
Hit the lab for a fo' day block, we got heat
You niggaz can't compete when I walk in the streets
We Get Low, and there's no idea with the info
It's a rule of thumb, let them dudes a come
I'm cruisin some, 20 inch shoes and some
I'm in the widebody XM-5, all my snakes is live
We check your five, the spot where the tec dies
And everybody gotta holla the name
It's JT from the Fillmoe streets to CPT
[The Game]
Who really the best rapper since 'Pac got killed
I done answered that question when I copped my deal
Ask yourself when the Game is comin, after next summer
I predict my shit'll drop before the next Howard homecoming
Now who in the runnin, no one, ask the niggaz who want it
I got a four-fifth and it just like me, it stay gunnin
Me and my niggaz stay blunted fogged up in the 600
Guilty as charged, blunts in the air, guns in the doors
It's written, Compton niggaz never run from the law
Plus we get Monopoly money with hotels and a board
So I'll never see a jail, and I'm allergic to bars
Can't sit behind 'em or drink at 'em, so we travel with ours
Poppin Crist' in the 6, like we drivin through Mardi Gras
Thinkin 'bout beads and titties as I roll through the city
And I keep 16 in the clip, and I let 'em all go
like the Lakers did Ellie, Atty and Nick, huh
[Chorus]
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent, cause
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent
[Sean T]
No garbage we smoke molta, move big cocoa
We off the train tracks like the great space coaster
We hit real big and consistant like Sam Sosa
Prepare for war, like United States soldiers
Lock tight and rock right like grey eight oz's
I'll be hittin up spots, in them flip Range Rovers
Before you even try to play, foolish all over
Empty out yo' pockets, turn everything over
We ball out cursin yeah we keep it the sickest
When we roll by the quads in them Z-66's
Big spittin, grip kitten, that big face greed
Always dirty never clean but we live like kings
Legendary like Sting, it's a history to follow
But not known for stingin known for gettin off hollows
Shoot me a glass of Remy, nah fuck it the whole bottle
And watch me act bad and take off, full throttle
[Chorus]
[JT the Bigga Figga]
I'm from a batch where it ain't no cut, we all in
36 on a triple beam scale for meal
Duffle bag on my shoulder my route, through the back of the jet
To bag up baguettes and everybody know it
I'm the iceholder makin the cut, never breakin 'em up
My favorite color is rainbowed up
Ain't a coke dealer, but I got bricks for cheap
Hit the lab for a fo' day block, we got heat
You niggaz can't compete when I walk in the streets
We Get Low, and there's no idea with the info
It's a rule of thumb, let them dudes a come
I'm cruisin some, 20 inch shoes and some
I'm in the widebody XM-5, all my snakes is live
We check your five, the spot where the tec dies
And everybody gotta holla the name
It's JT from the Fillmoe streets to CPT
I'm Looking lyrics - The Game (feat. Blue Chip)
[The Game]
I'm from Compton where them guns bust, watch Poppa George pop
Cats tellin jokes at them car games
Seen big face hundreds, handle the rock like Nate Archibald
What? This nigga only sixteen
And I wanted to be, just like him, middle school fightin
Any nigga with a chip on his shoulder, whattup nigga?
You want beef with me? Now I let the heat speak for me
No more talkin, just outline chalkin
Nigga Witta Attitude from birth, "100 Miles and Running"
Gunnin bustin shots like fuck the cops
Notorious for burnin blocks, weavin in and out of traffic and chop
Game the young Robin Hood of the block
Steal from the rich, give to the poor, coward niggaz rock
Second comin of this black Alfred Hitchcock
Kick in the door, wavin the four-four
Ten shots to your spleen, let them violins sing
[Chorus: Blue Chip + (The Game)]
Yo, I'm just a ghetto nigga stuck in this game, young'uns runnin with 'caine
Rain hits so we floodin the game
When you come to Compton respect the grounds, leave you shook man
(And I look good, from Compton to Brooklyn)
Hey yo I don't give a fuck who you are, fuck ya ice
Fuck the block that you claim, fuck your Bentley Azure
(Dead presidents is all I represent)
('Til y'all met me y'all niggaz ain't met gangsta yet)
[The Game]
Fast cars, money and muscle, the hustle I was brought up in the 80's
Gangbangin, dope traffic, shit get crazy
From where niggaz grow up hard like dicks raised
Them hustlin guns like Knicks players, we got mouths to feed
'Til they put flowers on me, moms kiss my cold cheek
In that pine box, I'm buyin rocks, eyein cops
Fuck a cell block, the young kid makin it happen
Who you think got them fiends runnin back like Bo Jackson?
I'm a gangsta, what else could I say?
I'm ahead of myself like it's Y4K
2Pac, Scarface, N.W.A.
Taught me how to dodge them bullets, keep my wig in play
Keep fo' snug in the waist or pay a thousand to have 'em
Niggaz in the street move faster than, Michael Jackson's album
But the shit don't really matter to me, we get better G
Bet the four slow 'em down like PCP
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Real gangsters never talk shit, handle they business
Fuck the dry snitchin and bitchin, niggaz die when them bullets fly
Who fuckin with him, ha? Not a nigga alive
End up dead in that 5
He got no sympathy for them dead guys, friend or foe
Watch that chest cave in, what that vest savin?
Make it sloppy for the autopsy, leave my enemies in a frenzy
On the frontlines holdin a 9
Everyday a new chapter, my own niggaz plottin on me
Tryin to hit me but they won't get me, feel the semi first
Fuckin with my dough, is the worst way to go
Y'all know, niggaz cry when them bullets burn slow dummy
In and out of spots watchin my money
If one dollar come up missin bodies start to come up missin
No one too heavy for the Expedition, piss on your corpse
Watch your soul shiver, throw him in the river, bitch nigga
[Chorus]
I'm from Compton where them guns bust, watch Poppa George pop
Cats tellin jokes at them car games
Seen big face hundreds, handle the rock like Nate Archibald
What? This nigga only sixteen
And I wanted to be, just like him, middle school fightin
Any nigga with a chip on his shoulder, whattup nigga?
You want beef with me? Now I let the heat speak for me
No more talkin, just outline chalkin
Nigga Witta Attitude from birth, "100 Miles and Running"
Gunnin bustin shots like fuck the cops
Notorious for burnin blocks, weavin in and out of traffic and chop
Game the young Robin Hood of the block
Steal from the rich, give to the poor, coward niggaz rock
Second comin of this black Alfred Hitchcock
Kick in the door, wavin the four-four
Ten shots to your spleen, let them violins sing
[Chorus: Blue Chip + (The Game)]
Yo, I'm just a ghetto nigga stuck in this game, young'uns runnin with 'caine
Rain hits so we floodin the game
When you come to Compton respect the grounds, leave you shook man
(And I look good, from Compton to Brooklyn)
Hey yo I don't give a fuck who you are, fuck ya ice
Fuck the block that you claim, fuck your Bentley Azure
(Dead presidents is all I represent)
('Til y'all met me y'all niggaz ain't met gangsta yet)
[The Game]
Fast cars, money and muscle, the hustle I was brought up in the 80's
Gangbangin, dope traffic, shit get crazy
From where niggaz grow up hard like dicks raised
Them hustlin guns like Knicks players, we got mouths to feed
'Til they put flowers on me, moms kiss my cold cheek
In that pine box, I'm buyin rocks, eyein cops
Fuck a cell block, the young kid makin it happen
Who you think got them fiends runnin back like Bo Jackson?
I'm a gangsta, what else could I say?
I'm ahead of myself like it's Y4K
2Pac, Scarface, N.W.A.
Taught me how to dodge them bullets, keep my wig in play
Keep fo' snug in the waist or pay a thousand to have 'em
Niggaz in the street move faster than, Michael Jackson's album
But the shit don't really matter to me, we get better G
Bet the four slow 'em down like PCP
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Real gangsters never talk shit, handle they business
Fuck the dry snitchin and bitchin, niggaz die when them bullets fly
Who fuckin with him, ha? Not a nigga alive
End up dead in that 5
He got no sympathy for them dead guys, friend or foe
Watch that chest cave in, what that vest savin?
Make it sloppy for the autopsy, leave my enemies in a frenzy
On the frontlines holdin a 9
Everyday a new chapter, my own niggaz plottin on me
Tryin to hit me but they won't get me, feel the semi first
Fuckin with my dough, is the worst way to go
Y'all know, niggaz cry when them bullets burn slow dummy
In and out of spots watchin my money
If one dollar come up missin bodies start to come up missin
No one too heavy for the Expedition, piss on your corpse
Watch your soul shiver, throw him in the river, bitch nigga
[Chorus]
Real Gangstaz lyrics - The Game
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
Real gangstaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply cause I'm mad at you
[The Game]
Y'all niggaz see me when I'm come through; and ain't no denyin
that them big motherfuckers is twenty-five
Swayin in and out of white line, six double-oh
Deuce zeroes, I'm feelin like the streets is mine
Mines hustle, mucho dinero, heat's confined
See more fall guys than Foreman/Ali combined
If there's beef, I'm releasin mine
And I won't stop bustin 'til them Escalade seats recline
The kid roll with a greasy nine, come through and blast
I return shots like Arthur Ashe
You do the math, ten shots, ten dead bodies
Fuck bein sorry, it ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
And I'll make sure ain't a nigga survivin
Shoot up the ambulance, make sure it ain't a nigga there to revive him
And the Game ain't tryin to win, fuck the awards
So keep that little-ass horn, and that Neil Armstrong nigga
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Trust me dog, ain't shit you can put in your rap
that'll make you a gangsta, you a bitch and that's that
Niggaz thinkin I retired my Chuck, put the gun back in the holsters
Cause I weave through traffic in a roaster
But that don't stop the heater from bangin, or me comin through
Droppin all y'all niggaz with three in the chamber
Keep two mac-10's when I'm rollin, one in the changer
One when I push the button's right next to the cupholder
Dog we can get this shit over, I got ten on the Game
Let's say that Lee Harvey crack ya brain
Ain't gotta look over my shoulder, I'm good with the aim
Good with the handle and the bullet's good with the bloodstains
And the coroner's real good with that pickup
A1 good with the carpet cleaning, they can get the rest of that shit up
Cause I kill like the hiccups, two at a time
Put you niggaz next to each other how I do 'em in line
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Come through in a big boy, leave the bullshit at home
If beef cook then I'm bringin the chrome
If I die then I'm leavin a clone; but if I live
through the drama one mo' time then them boys gotta dig
When I think about who shot me, I listen to Big
When I'm rhymin on the road, I listen to Jig
Bump Nas off that purple, sittin on the block
And when I'm loadin up them clips, I listen to 'Pac
A semi with me like Eddie Murphy, got mo' guns
than F-A, B-O, L-O, U-S got jerseys
And you might get 'em all in the face when shit get thick
Make the back of your head look like Jerome Kearsey
And ain't nuttin to do a driveby in the hood
We ain't even got survival, but I'ma still take that ride
Bet my drink on it, bet my main squeeze mink on it
Think this shit a joke? Bet the S-5 pink on it
[Chorus]
Real gangstaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply cause I'm mad at you
[The Game]
Y'all niggaz see me when I'm come through; and ain't no denyin
that them big motherfuckers is twenty-five
Swayin in and out of white line, six double-oh
Deuce zeroes, I'm feelin like the streets is mine
Mines hustle, mucho dinero, heat's confined
See more fall guys than Foreman/Ali combined
If there's beef, I'm releasin mine
And I won't stop bustin 'til them Escalade seats recline
The kid roll with a greasy nine, come through and blast
I return shots like Arthur Ashe
You do the math, ten shots, ten dead bodies
Fuck bein sorry, it ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
And I'll make sure ain't a nigga survivin
Shoot up the ambulance, make sure it ain't a nigga there to revive him
And the Game ain't tryin to win, fuck the awards
So keep that little-ass horn, and that Neil Armstrong nigga
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Trust me dog, ain't shit you can put in your rap
that'll make you a gangsta, you a bitch and that's that
Niggaz thinkin I retired my Chuck, put the gun back in the holsters
Cause I weave through traffic in a roaster
But that don't stop the heater from bangin, or me comin through
Droppin all y'all niggaz with three in the chamber
Keep two mac-10's when I'm rollin, one in the changer
One when I push the button's right next to the cupholder
Dog we can get this shit over, I got ten on the Game
Let's say that Lee Harvey crack ya brain
Ain't gotta look over my shoulder, I'm good with the aim
Good with the handle and the bullet's good with the bloodstains
And the coroner's real good with that pickup
A1 good with the carpet cleaning, they can get the rest of that shit up
Cause I kill like the hiccups, two at a time
Put you niggaz next to each other how I do 'em in line
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Come through in a big boy, leave the bullshit at home
If beef cook then I'm bringin the chrome
If I die then I'm leavin a clone; but if I live
through the drama one mo' time then them boys gotta dig
When I think about who shot me, I listen to Big
When I'm rhymin on the road, I listen to Jig
Bump Nas off that purple, sittin on the block
And when I'm loadin up them clips, I listen to 'Pac
A semi with me like Eddie Murphy, got mo' guns
than F-A, B-O, L-O, U-S got jerseys
And you might get 'em all in the face when shit get thick
Make the back of your head look like Jerome Kearsey
And ain't nuttin to do a driveby in the hood
We ain't even got survival, but I'ma still take that ride
Bet my drink on it, bet my main squeeze mink on it
Think this shit a joke? Bet the S-5 pink on it
[Chorus]
Drama Is Real lyrics - The Game (feat. San Quinn)
[20 second instrumental to open]
[San Quinn]
Drama is real, like not wakin up
I'm breakin up grounds when this patriot thrust
Your mouth is on shut, your emotions are hidden
For you to handle your business, you are more than driven
If you kill it no more standin on that corner like a stop sign
Everytime you spotted they call it shot time
Not at the gym but in the grim reaper's hands
You important if a bullet hits, injure your plans
This is not an adventure, but a full-time duty
If you seen how niggaz hit the club, they pullin out uzis
Sometimes bruisin and grazin, mostly takin
No more sleep for the shooter, no more of that hangin
No mo' trustin hoes you ain't know fo' ten plus
No mo' smokin with the homies, no mo' late night clubs
Cause the victim, is ready to stick him like a mousetrap
I'm 'bout to rap, you better be 'bout peepin out cash
[Chorus: The Game]
If there's blood on my Nikes I done murdered a nigga
If the stash spot smokin I done murdered a nigga
San Quinn got a hurt for the nigga, it get worser for niggaz
We take this beef shit further than niggaz
Streets are shady, the Game got curtains for niggaz
All-of-a-sudden-ass killers never heard of these niggaz
Have your whole family cryin a river, we'll murder you niggaz
We take this beef shit personal nigga
[The Game]
I ain't met a nigga yet could fuck with this rap vet
I'm the realest since I came in the game on Kam back
Rest in peace to Mausberg, gotta live with that
Keep the M2 on my hip, I live with that
Eat with that, sleep with that, come get me
Four-fifty put somethin through your son Easter basket
Six in your truck, get you each a casket
Put termites in your box let 'em eat your cabbage
A wife right here, see if she can weave through traffic
Everybody gotta die, when the beef is active
If you know Game, you know I'll never give free passes
But I give choices, how you want it, metal or plastic
Life is real, pedal to traffic, no spots on my tail
Cops on the payroll so me and Quinn live well
And I can still get a nigga the hill, your bitch as well
Shotgun got mo' punks than shells
[Chorus]
[The Game]
See the Escalade got 'em runnin downhill, snowball niggaz
We throw vapors out of truck windows, blow our figures
Suede corners out the sunroof, the fifth or the Ruger
Broad daylight, blow the windows out of your Cougar
Move in the S5, plus my, leather dust fly
Spark up a dutch, Game put niggaz in a coffin too much
Turn niggaz kids into orphans too much, In God We Trust - nah
Keep the fifth close like Starsky & Hutch
Your daughter cryin it's just {?} tuck, but so what
Blow the dutch, southpaw bust out your whole fronts
Have you eatin soup for months, broken jaw, lick your shit out of straws
I guess I got that same ol' harm
I ain't for play, the Game is raw
Specialize in death jackets, here try these bullets on
And next time have all my cheese cause if you owe me
Guns O-U-T, we all gon' squeeze
[Chorus]
[San Quinn]
Drama is real, like not wakin up
I'm breakin up grounds when this patriot thrust
Your mouth is on shut, your emotions are hidden
For you to handle your business, you are more than driven
If you kill it no more standin on that corner like a stop sign
Everytime you spotted they call it shot time
Not at the gym but in the grim reaper's hands
You important if a bullet hits, injure your plans
This is not an adventure, but a full-time duty
If you seen how niggaz hit the club, they pullin out uzis
Sometimes bruisin and grazin, mostly takin
No more sleep for the shooter, no more of that hangin
No mo' trustin hoes you ain't know fo' ten plus
No mo' smokin with the homies, no mo' late night clubs
Cause the victim, is ready to stick him like a mousetrap
I'm 'bout to rap, you better be 'bout peepin out cash
[Chorus: The Game]
If there's blood on my Nikes I done murdered a nigga
If the stash spot smokin I done murdered a nigga
San Quinn got a hurt for the nigga, it get worser for niggaz
We take this beef shit further than niggaz
Streets are shady, the Game got curtains for niggaz
All-of-a-sudden-ass killers never heard of these niggaz
Have your whole family cryin a river, we'll murder you niggaz
We take this beef shit personal nigga
[The Game]
I ain't met a nigga yet could fuck with this rap vet
I'm the realest since I came in the game on Kam back
Rest in peace to Mausberg, gotta live with that
Keep the M2 on my hip, I live with that
Eat with that, sleep with that, come get me
Four-fifty put somethin through your son Easter basket
Six in your truck, get you each a casket
Put termites in your box let 'em eat your cabbage
A wife right here, see if she can weave through traffic
Everybody gotta die, when the beef is active
If you know Game, you know I'll never give free passes
But I give choices, how you want it, metal or plastic
Life is real, pedal to traffic, no spots on my tail
Cops on the payroll so me and Quinn live well
And I can still get a nigga the hill, your bitch as well
Shotgun got mo' punks than shells
[Chorus]
[The Game]
See the Escalade got 'em runnin downhill, snowball niggaz
We throw vapors out of truck windows, blow our figures
Suede corners out the sunroof, the fifth or the Ruger
Broad daylight, blow the windows out of your Cougar
Move in the S5, plus my, leather dust fly
Spark up a dutch, Game put niggaz in a coffin too much
Turn niggaz kids into orphans too much, In God We Trust - nah
Keep the fifth close like Starsky & Hutch
Your daughter cryin it's just {?} tuck, but so what
Blow the dutch, southpaw bust out your whole fronts
Have you eatin soup for months, broken jaw, lick your shit out of straws
I guess I got that same ol' harm
I ain't for play, the Game is raw
Specialize in death jackets, here try these bullets on
And next time have all my cheese cause if you owe me
Guns O-U-T, we all gon' squeeze
[Chorus]
Compton 2 Filimoe lyrics - The Game (feat. JT the Bigga Figga)
[Chorus: The Game + JT]
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay, our chains hang, L.A. they can't bang
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In L.A. they havin problems, the Bay we pop collars
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay we pop hollows, L.A. they pop hollows
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay we pop bottles, L.A. they pop bottles
[JT the Bigga Figga]
They can't cop what the bricks'll cost
But we stay in the lane to maintain in the 6 to floss
Leather gloves with the tips to toss
But the money was made from conversation had to clip the boss
Smash down at the V.I.P.
Street smarts is crucial for young niggaz in the CX-3
Drop Jag with the price to pay
Cause the bags was heavy my chain swangin like a ice capade
Got the feds lookin twice this way
Cause we shuffle the P's in different places that the {?} name
Compton to Fillmoe man the game is real
When you turn 15 get your stainless steel
Whole squad been trained to kill, we official
And switch to get rich now we after the meals
Hard times got cakes for 3
When it's havin a bundle we break bread for the safe and flee nigga
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I got guns, guns, guns, guns
Guns all over the club
We in V.I.P. strapped, security know that
25 deep, guns up under the throwback
That new R. Kelly shit sound like Bobby Womack
Black Wall Street in HURR, nigga where the hoes at
We got sour diesel, three cases of Hypnotiq
And more guns than the Nickerson Projects
Niggaz don't want beef with me
Cause they know they gotta pay for talkin shit but the sheets is free
And ain't nuttin to shoot the club up
You don't want drama in this motherfucker throw them dubs up
Jacob got the wrists on chill
And N.W.A. chain glow like the memory of Ill Will
Relax your mind and let your drawers feel free
You're now rollin to the sound of the Game and JT
[Chorus]
[JT the Bigga Figga]
But you can't come with the rest of her friends
Cause you know I'm a boss and won't play cause she short on my ends
Make rounds from the back of the Benz
With the {?} that kid with frog eyes with the corners to bend
The things we go through I'm beatin ya brains
Got some homies next do' and I picked up the Game
While they knockin on the do' I get deep in ya dame
Gotta charge you a G just for speakin my name
[The Game]
I'm not eatin your chocha or payin for the coach ma
I'm a pimp like 50, the nigga to leave you broke ma
6 in the mornin, you stretchin on the sofa
Singin "Ain't No Nigga" like Foxy Brown and Hova
I fuck 'em dogstyle with Billys and Novas
With or without chaffeurs, I make 'em fuck the both of us
You know what it is, the gangster's back
And I keep my banger at where my chain hang at
I'm ghetto
[Chorus x2]
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay, our chains hang, L.A. they can't bang
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In L.A. they havin problems, the Bay we pop collars
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay we pop hollows, L.A. they pop hollows
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay we pop bottles, L.A. they pop bottles
[JT the Bigga Figga]
They can't cop what the bricks'll cost
But we stay in the lane to maintain in the 6 to floss
Leather gloves with the tips to toss
But the money was made from conversation had to clip the boss
Smash down at the V.I.P.
Street smarts is crucial for young niggaz in the CX-3
Drop Jag with the price to pay
Cause the bags was heavy my chain swangin like a ice capade
Got the feds lookin twice this way
Cause we shuffle the P's in different places that the {?} name
Compton to Fillmoe man the game is real
When you turn 15 get your stainless steel
Whole squad been trained to kill, we official
And switch to get rich now we after the meals
Hard times got cakes for 3
When it's havin a bundle we break bread for the safe and flee nigga
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I got guns, guns, guns, guns
Guns all over the club
We in V.I.P. strapped, security know that
25 deep, guns up under the throwback
That new R. Kelly shit sound like Bobby Womack
Black Wall Street in HURR, nigga where the hoes at
We got sour diesel, three cases of Hypnotiq
And more guns than the Nickerson Projects
Niggaz don't want beef with me
Cause they know they gotta pay for talkin shit but the sheets is free
And ain't nuttin to shoot the club up
You don't want drama in this motherfucker throw them dubs up
Jacob got the wrists on chill
And N.W.A. chain glow like the memory of Ill Will
Relax your mind and let your drawers feel free
You're now rollin to the sound of the Game and JT
[Chorus]
[JT the Bigga Figga]
But you can't come with the rest of her friends
Cause you know I'm a boss and won't play cause she short on my ends
Make rounds from the back of the Benz
With the {?} that kid with frog eyes with the corners to bend
The things we go through I'm beatin ya brains
Got some homies next do' and I picked up the Game
While they knockin on the do' I get deep in ya dame
Gotta charge you a G just for speakin my name
[The Game]
I'm not eatin your chocha or payin for the coach ma
I'm a pimp like 50, the nigga to leave you broke ma
6 in the mornin, you stretchin on the sofa
Singin "Ain't No Nigga" like Foxy Brown and Hova
I fuck 'em dogstyle with Billys and Novas
With or without chaffeurs, I make 'em fuck the both of us
You know what it is, the gangster's back
And I keep my banger at where my chain hang at
I'm ghetto
[Chorus x2]
El Presidente lyrics - The Game (feat. Telly Mac)
[13 second street fight instrumental to open]
[The Game]
Death before dishonor
Ride with weap' up, cause niggaz tryin to dent my armor
Cold streets, Telly Mac keep the guns on 'em
They wanna know how that nigga from California
could run up on ya on any corner
Put somethin on ya
How I stuff bricks in the 6, with no crack aroma
Dawg, I'm just livin for the moment
I'm from Compton homey, but I'm like a center for Milwaukee
Cause I play for the Bucks, and I keep the 40 on me
Gotta keep the chrome-y, gotta keep my back to the wall
Wait for Q to rock me up, like cavi dawg
Speakin of lle', I put 8 in, 10 jump back hard
And watch my money come back, like Jordan in charge
I'm like the black Yankees, they don't want me around no more
Cause I hold the record for the most fiends roamin the boulevard
And when I'm on the boulevard, catch me behind the wheel
of that new Escalade with the Foreman grill
[Chorus x2]
Steppin out of Chevies with heat that's heavy - that's president
Bullets flyin for them dead guys - that's president
Led meltin inside your wig - that's president
20's 50's and 100's burnin - it's all president
[Telly Mac]
Aiyyo I do this shit from Compton to the Mac block
High-tech collaborations with the Gamblaz and Blacksox
Drillin 'em killin 'em if we ain't feelin 'em nigga
If Sticky Fingaz need some music straight stealin it nigga
Shinin, in big trucks, big will in it nigga we climbin
To the top and we sealin it nigga
So back the fuck up, my niggaz act the fuck up
So keep yourself in line or you could get smacked the fuck up
Jacked the fuck up, beat up bad and clapped the fuck up
Wrapped up in white sheets and threw in a white truck
Over presidents, now you willin to give your life up?
Put your kids on the line, and give your wife up?
Over presidents, they got you soulless
So take this bomb and hold this, while we control this
For the streets, we comin with heat that's stolen
And we hustle universal, for that paper that we foldin
Roll in 600's, Beemers and 'llacs
We a team of cats, with the pens and gats
That fiend for jacks, but only when the green's attached
We fiend for jacks, but only when the green's attached
[Chorus]
[The Game]
It's Telly and young Game the hustler, ho juggler, coke smuggler
No matter what the hustle, dough doublin
Lle or the rock, give me a day and a spot
And I bet I'll come back with 10K in the drop
[Telly Mac]
I'll stay in the spot, wearin a crop and coppin ounces
Telly Mac and Game the hustler, we rock the house
And plus we the reason that the blocks is out
So my words to the wise is just watch your mouth
[The Game]
And you don't want it when the stainless out, what the game about
The bullets is in, your brains is out
All over Frisco and Compton dawg, we ruthless
And the truth is y'all niggaz can't stop us dawg
[Telly Mac]
So why the fuck you wanna knock us off
Like we some high-powered cowards and y'all really the niggaz that's soft
Still across the train tracks, we turn 'caine crack
It's Telly Mac and Game the hustler, you can't change that
[Chorus: to fade w/ Digital Underground ad libs]
[The Game]
Death before dishonor
Ride with weap' up, cause niggaz tryin to dent my armor
Cold streets, Telly Mac keep the guns on 'em
They wanna know how that nigga from California
could run up on ya on any corner
Put somethin on ya
How I stuff bricks in the 6, with no crack aroma
Dawg, I'm just livin for the moment
I'm from Compton homey, but I'm like a center for Milwaukee
Cause I play for the Bucks, and I keep the 40 on me
Gotta keep the chrome-y, gotta keep my back to the wall
Wait for Q to rock me up, like cavi dawg
Speakin of lle', I put 8 in, 10 jump back hard
And watch my money come back, like Jordan in charge
I'm like the black Yankees, they don't want me around no more
Cause I hold the record for the most fiends roamin the boulevard
And when I'm on the boulevard, catch me behind the wheel
of that new Escalade with the Foreman grill
[Chorus x2]
Steppin out of Chevies with heat that's heavy - that's president
Bullets flyin for them dead guys - that's president
Led meltin inside your wig - that's president
20's 50's and 100's burnin - it's all president
[Telly Mac]
Aiyyo I do this shit from Compton to the Mac block
High-tech collaborations with the Gamblaz and Blacksox
Drillin 'em killin 'em if we ain't feelin 'em nigga
If Sticky Fingaz need some music straight stealin it nigga
Shinin, in big trucks, big will in it nigga we climbin
To the top and we sealin it nigga
So back the fuck up, my niggaz act the fuck up
So keep yourself in line or you could get smacked the fuck up
Jacked the fuck up, beat up bad and clapped the fuck up
Wrapped up in white sheets and threw in a white truck
Over presidents, now you willin to give your life up?
Put your kids on the line, and give your wife up?
Over presidents, they got you soulless
So take this bomb and hold this, while we control this
For the streets, we comin with heat that's stolen
And we hustle universal, for that paper that we foldin
Roll in 600's, Beemers and 'llacs
We a team of cats, with the pens and gats
That fiend for jacks, but only when the green's attached
We fiend for jacks, but only when the green's attached
[Chorus]
[The Game]
It's Telly and young Game the hustler, ho juggler, coke smuggler
No matter what the hustle, dough doublin
Lle or the rock, give me a day and a spot
And I bet I'll come back with 10K in the drop
[Telly Mac]
I'll stay in the spot, wearin a crop and coppin ounces
Telly Mac and Game the hustler, we rock the house
And plus we the reason that the blocks is out
So my words to the wise is just watch your mouth
[The Game]
And you don't want it when the stainless out, what the game about
The bullets is in, your brains is out
All over Frisco and Compton dawg, we ruthless
And the truth is y'all niggaz can't stop us dawg
[Telly Mac]
So why the fuck you wanna knock us off
Like we some high-powered cowards and y'all really the niggaz that's soft
Still across the train tracks, we turn 'caine crack
It's Telly Mac and Game the hustler, you can't change that
[Chorus: to fade w/ Digital Underground ad libs]
G.A.M.E. lyrics - The Game (feat. Young Noble (Outlawz))
[19 second instrumental to open]
[The Game]
Live now, die later, flood or clock the shit out of haters
Got niggaz tryin to "Kiss the Game Goodbye" like Jada
Get your shit pushed back like Jada's CD
I'll put your brains on that Kenwood TV
So you can see hell in 3D, it's right there dog
And the Game behind the Desert is a nightmare dog
If it's pussy, I might share it dog, beef I'm right here dog
I'm on the block, white Nike Airs on
Gucci check, Coogi sweat, they wanna know
if 22's on the truck, give me coochie yet
But I come through in the new GS with two, three tecs
Got niggaz Harlem Shakin like the new G. Dep
Tryin to read my whole script, but ain't seen the movie yet
Better have that glock stuffed tonight
I'm comin through with Young Noble, and we, gon', make, it
A block bust tonight
[Chorus 2X: The Game]
Getting American Money Easy, all I know
The Gangsta All Motherfuckers Envy, all my dough
It's a West coast knot, watch, let it bang out
Shots range out, for all the gangsta hangouts
[The Game]
Lace your tips, polish your gators, we like odds in Vegas
You can't ball? Then it's probably the haters
Can't breathe then it's probably the Desert, if you a gangsta or not
I give a fuck dog, bullets is hot
And every nigga gon' cry when he hit, the more pain
the more blood drain, he ain't survivin shit
And your niggaz ain't gon' ride for shit, they know
if they came through everybody in the X-5 is hit
Red rag or blue rag, niggaz die for this
The Game the reason all these niggaz on that "Cali Love" shit
Compton niggaz get grimy too, pull you out of that 6
Fuck you up like one time'll do
And I dare y'all to stop on the 'Shaw, and King Boulevard
Comin hard, Doogie Howser pullin bullets out your jaw
Turn your round trip into a one-way ticket
You can visit, but you can not lie and kick it
[Chorus]
[Young Noble]
Aiyyo, we left a stain on your block, you came with a cop
Pointin fingers at them niggaz, that kept shit hot
Next to 'Pac, I'm the hottest thang out, homey we can bang out
Outlaw air it out, box 'em in, square it out
Learn about your whereabouts and we right there
Me and Game have you left right there
N-O-B-L-E, O-U-T-L-A-W-Z
We bubble with ease, and I double my cheese
I got niggaz out in Compton that'll find yo' ass
I got niggaz out in Jersey, that'll hide yo' ass
for a long time if you ever fuckin with mine
It's a thin line dog between the real and the fraud
We killin your squad, my homeboy still in the yard
You the type of motherfucker standin next to the God
The Game is deep, you motherfuckers ain't the streets
Young Noble and the homey Game flamin heat, c'mon
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Live now, die later, flood or clock the shit out of haters
Got niggaz tryin to "Kiss the Game Goodbye" like Jada
Get your shit pushed back like Jada's CD
I'll put your brains on that Kenwood TV
So you can see hell in 3D, it's right there dog
And the Game behind the Desert is a nightmare dog
If it's pussy, I might share it dog, beef I'm right here dog
I'm on the block, white Nike Airs on
Gucci check, Coogi sweat, they wanna know
if 22's on the truck, give me coochie yet
But I come through in the new GS with two, three tecs
Got niggaz Harlem Shakin like the new G. Dep
Tryin to read my whole script, but ain't seen the movie yet
Better have that glock stuffed tonight
I'm comin through with Young Noble, and we, gon', make, it
A block bust tonight
[Chorus 2X: The Game]
Getting American Money Easy, all I know
The Gangsta All Motherfuckers Envy, all my dough
It's a West coast knot, watch, let it bang out
Shots range out, for all the gangsta hangouts
[The Game]
Lace your tips, polish your gators, we like odds in Vegas
You can't ball? Then it's probably the haters
Can't breathe then it's probably the Desert, if you a gangsta or not
I give a fuck dog, bullets is hot
And every nigga gon' cry when he hit, the more pain
the more blood drain, he ain't survivin shit
And your niggaz ain't gon' ride for shit, they know
if they came through everybody in the X-5 is hit
Red rag or blue rag, niggaz die for this
The Game the reason all these niggaz on that "Cali Love" shit
Compton niggaz get grimy too, pull you out of that 6
Fuck you up like one time'll do
And I dare y'all to stop on the 'Shaw, and King Boulevard
Comin hard, Doogie Howser pullin bullets out your jaw
Turn your round trip into a one-way ticket
You can visit, but you can not lie and kick it
[Chorus]
[Young Noble]
Aiyyo, we left a stain on your block, you came with a cop
Pointin fingers at them niggaz, that kept shit hot
Next to 'Pac, I'm the hottest thang out, homey we can bang out
Outlaw air it out, box 'em in, square it out
Learn about your whereabouts and we right there
Me and Game have you left right there
N-O-B-L-E, O-U-T-L-A-W-Z
We bubble with ease, and I double my cheese
I got niggaz out in Compton that'll find yo' ass
I got niggaz out in Jersey, that'll hide yo' ass
for a long time if you ever fuckin with mine
It's a thin line dog between the real and the fraud
We killin your squad, my homeboy still in the yard
You the type of motherfucker standin next to the God
The Game is deep, you motherfuckers ain't the streets
Young Noble and the homey Game flamin heat, c'mon
[Chorus]
Cali Boyz lyrics - The Game
[The Game]
Yeh this is killa Cali, live as a motherfucker man
Niggaz hoppin of off LAX's
Can't wait to see the sunshine, the palm trees, the beautiful woman
I love it man, nineteen years and runnin', this is my home, feel me
[The Game]
Y'all must think it's all chips and championships in LA
I got niggaz from San Diego all the way to the Bay
E-40, Dre, Tash, Ras Kass
Quik, Cube, Kurupt, and Daz
Big Snoop, Xzibit, Nate Dogg, and Ren
Too $hort, B-Legit, The Click, and Mack 10
Big Solo, Kam, CJ Mack, and WC
Jayo Felony, Suge Knight, The Outlawz, and Warren G
Knoc'Turnal, Bad Azz, Goldie Loc, and Tray Dee
Short Khop, Big Face, MC Eiht, and Shock G
Ant Banks, Richie Rich, Eastwood, and Suga Free
Bigga Figga, B-Real, Cypress Hill, and Ice-T
Rick Rock, C-Bo, Battlecat, and Crooked I
Yukmouth, Sean T, Kokane, and Big Wy
San Quan, Second II None, and Soopafly
King T, Rappin 4-Tay, and All From The I
Dru Down, E-Swift, Baco, and Technique
Mac Mall, Dazi Bitch, Shaq and D.O.C.
Chico and Coolwadda, Tyrese and KD
Mailman, RBX, Shade Sheist, and Wy V
C & W, Chill, Hittman, and Hi-C
DJ Yella, I Flow, The Ganders, and Double D
Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E., The Farock, AMG
Ra Ra, H.O.P. and Butch Cassidy
All my fallen soldiers rest in peace
Along wit 2Pac, Mausberg and Eazy-E
Essays, Bloods, Crips and all the thugs
And all my killa cali niggaz stay given it up uh
Yeah if I left you out man holla at me, my bad it's all love
Yeh this is killa Cali, live as a motherfucker man
Niggaz hoppin of off LAX's
Can't wait to see the sunshine, the palm trees, the beautiful woman
I love it man, nineteen years and runnin', this is my home, feel me
[The Game]
Y'all must think it's all chips and championships in LA
I got niggaz from San Diego all the way to the Bay
E-40, Dre, Tash, Ras Kass
Quik, Cube, Kurupt, and Daz
Big Snoop, Xzibit, Nate Dogg, and Ren
Too $hort, B-Legit, The Click, and Mack 10
Big Solo, Kam, CJ Mack, and WC
Jayo Felony, Suge Knight, The Outlawz, and Warren G
Knoc'Turnal, Bad Azz, Goldie Loc, and Tray Dee
Short Khop, Big Face, MC Eiht, and Shock G
Ant Banks, Richie Rich, Eastwood, and Suga Free
Bigga Figga, B-Real, Cypress Hill, and Ice-T
Rick Rock, C-Bo, Battlecat, and Crooked I
Yukmouth, Sean T, Kokane, and Big Wy
San Quan, Second II None, and Soopafly
King T, Rappin 4-Tay, and All From The I
Dru Down, E-Swift, Baco, and Technique
Mac Mall, Dazi Bitch, Shaq and D.O.C.
Chico and Coolwadda, Tyrese and KD
Mailman, RBX, Shade Sheist, and Wy V
C & W, Chill, Hittman, and Hi-C
DJ Yella, I Flow, The Ganders, and Double D
Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E., The Farock, AMG
Ra Ra, H.O.P. and Butch Cassidy
All my fallen soldiers rest in peace
Along wit 2Pac, Mausberg and Eazy-E
Essays, Bloods, Crips and all the thugs
And all my killa cali niggaz stay given it up uh
Yeah if I left you out man holla at me, my bad it's all love
Who The Illest lyrics - The Game (feat. Sean T)
[The Game]
Who the illest hub dawg you know
Peelin slugs at your mug, dealin drugs in front of the projects
My projects, more scatter, more street
Makin room for more drama, more hustle, more heat
I can show you how to get, American money easy
It's the gangster, all motherfuckers envy
Leave all semi I tote, clips empty
Foes tempt me, I'm seein no penitentiary
Crime scene clean, shells, no prints
Flee the shootout, X-5, no {?}
It's meant for me to survive this gangster shit
Meant for you not to be livin, food for the pigeons
It's rules I'm givin, new lessons for the street
This jungle I'm from B don't breed no weak
Lames that don't know the game please don't speak
You get killed, want me peeled, I'm showin no {?} nigga
[Chorus: The Game (Sean T)]
Every nigga out there claimin to be the illest
I don't know if y'all know let a nigga know I'm lost in the stipulations
Niggaz hatin, everybody waitin for the outcome
Whatever happened to just to rappin?
(Mic graspin, freestyle flow flashin)
(Rippin up tracks and, doin the thang)
(What'chu niggaz know about Sean T and the Game?)
(Who's the illest?)
[Sean T]
I'm off the rack like slabs of ribs, I want it big
I ain't fuckin with kids, I'm after six digit things
Fuck the rings and the tribulations, constant playa hatin
This crimin-al lifestyle, keeps me animatin
Let's turf talk before you niggaz thuggin it up
It don't matter if you Crip'n, or Blood'n it up
Dallas Squad blooded it up, smashin on sight
But he hoppin on haters like BMX bikes
Fuck around with the Squad see unbearable sights
We takin gangster shit to the maximum height
But I'm mainly into bubblin, fat grip doublin
Big heads I'm lovin 'em, you feelin me y'all
Leavin the envious in awe cause I tremendously ball
I'm supported by the Game so you know I won't fall
I'ma execute my options, keep wettin my paws
And come out unscathed with no scratches or flaws
Who's the illest
[Chorus]
[The Game]
They say "Game, you rappin like you from the East coast," meet toast
Gun jammed in your throat, forgot that you spoke
Game got the streets woke young'n, same nigga got the coke runnin
Introduce the new fiends to smack
Pops told me when I was younger, you can't live like that
So I don't listen to pops nigga I listen to Kool G. Rap
Went from hustlin sacks to heavy weight, shufflin crack
Kids and preachers know me, young Game the O.G.
Ask the reverand kept the church from fallin, young'uns from starvin
I'm the project like Marcy or the Nickerson Gardens
Comfortable dawg, Compton to Harlem, any city ghetto or hood
Kick back, blowin, listen to Marvin
Get head, count dough and just sit in the apartment
AK in the sofa, I'm the illest, who come closer
to the late ones or great ones fightin over a crown
Get shot off that throne, who the illest now, huh?
[Chorus]
[Sean T]
Some say the gangster mentality is dead, imagine that
When fools pullin straps out with infrared
We're livin in a time of plagues and corrupt life
When homies in the circle end up all trife
Tryin to shine bright, but lookin all dim
Meanwhile I stay sharp like a ballpoint pen
I see the smirks and grins but I just laugh
Cause I'm gettin lucrative loot, endless math
If you only knew the half of it, you wouldn't hate
But niggaz just pig and talk shit behind Jake
Man you cain't knock the hustle, I ain't fin' to be greedy
I want an exit out the game kinda like Paul Vitti
I'm tryin to slang CD's in cruise control
Instead of sellin illegal pharmaceuticals
Should I ask for your advice? Like you would know
Fuck it, I'm out to get it, I'm a fool for dough
[Chorus]
Who the illest hub dawg you know
Peelin slugs at your mug, dealin drugs in front of the projects
My projects, more scatter, more street
Makin room for more drama, more hustle, more heat
I can show you how to get, American money easy
It's the gangster, all motherfuckers envy
Leave all semi I tote, clips empty
Foes tempt me, I'm seein no penitentiary
Crime scene clean, shells, no prints
Flee the shootout, X-5, no {?}
It's meant for me to survive this gangster shit
Meant for you not to be livin, food for the pigeons
It's rules I'm givin, new lessons for the street
This jungle I'm from B don't breed no weak
Lames that don't know the game please don't speak
You get killed, want me peeled, I'm showin no {?} nigga
[Chorus: The Game (Sean T)]
Every nigga out there claimin to be the illest
I don't know if y'all know let a nigga know I'm lost in the stipulations
Niggaz hatin, everybody waitin for the outcome
Whatever happened to just to rappin?
(Mic graspin, freestyle flow flashin)
(Rippin up tracks and, doin the thang)
(What'chu niggaz know about Sean T and the Game?)
(Who's the illest?)
[Sean T]
I'm off the rack like slabs of ribs, I want it big
I ain't fuckin with kids, I'm after six digit things
Fuck the rings and the tribulations, constant playa hatin
This crimin-al lifestyle, keeps me animatin
Let's turf talk before you niggaz thuggin it up
It don't matter if you Crip'n, or Blood'n it up
Dallas Squad blooded it up, smashin on sight
But he hoppin on haters like BMX bikes
Fuck around with the Squad see unbearable sights
We takin gangster shit to the maximum height
But I'm mainly into bubblin, fat grip doublin
Big heads I'm lovin 'em, you feelin me y'all
Leavin the envious in awe cause I tremendously ball
I'm supported by the Game so you know I won't fall
I'ma execute my options, keep wettin my paws
And come out unscathed with no scratches or flaws
Who's the illest
[Chorus]
[The Game]
They say "Game, you rappin like you from the East coast," meet toast
Gun jammed in your throat, forgot that you spoke
Game got the streets woke young'n, same nigga got the coke runnin
Introduce the new fiends to smack
Pops told me when I was younger, you can't live like that
So I don't listen to pops nigga I listen to Kool G. Rap
Went from hustlin sacks to heavy weight, shufflin crack
Kids and preachers know me, young Game the O.G.
Ask the reverand kept the church from fallin, young'uns from starvin
I'm the project like Marcy or the Nickerson Gardens
Comfortable dawg, Compton to Harlem, any city ghetto or hood
Kick back, blowin, listen to Marvin
Get head, count dough and just sit in the apartment
AK in the sofa, I'm the illest, who come closer
to the late ones or great ones fightin over a crown
Get shot off that throne, who the illest now, huh?
[Chorus]
[Sean T]
Some say the gangster mentality is dead, imagine that
When fools pullin straps out with infrared
We're livin in a time of plagues and corrupt life
When homies in the circle end up all trife
Tryin to shine bright, but lookin all dim
Meanwhile I stay sharp like a ballpoint pen
I see the smirks and grins but I just laugh
Cause I'm gettin lucrative loot, endless math
If you only knew the half of it, you wouldn't hate
But niggaz just pig and talk shit behind Jake
Man you cain't knock the hustle, I ain't fin' to be greedy
I want an exit out the game kinda like Paul Vitti
I'm tryin to slang CD's in cruise control
Instead of sellin illegal pharmaceuticals
Should I ask for your advice? Like you would know
Fuck it, I'm out to get it, I'm a fool for dough
[Chorus]
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