We Are The Hustlaz lyrics - The Game
Yeah...
Yeah man we them niggaz everybody talkin 'bout
Hey yo, yo
[Verse One]
Whether it's, chips or whips or bricks of 'caine
I still shine at the end when y'all forced to rain
Changed the game, three shots parade ya Range
Hit the passenger, driver, old man on a cane
I'm a shell in the chamber, waitin to pop
Like Stoudamire on the court I'm used to movin the rock
Cruise in the drop, 740, snub in the box
My attitude shifty, never callin the cops
A Green Bay jersey, out on Bennett puffin hershey
D's on the route tryin to catch a nigga dirty
Respect the flow, better yet respect the dough
He get respect like rich and po'
Fuck a 9 to 5, I'd rather wake up and spit bars
And your wife, known to make my dick hard
Cartier lenses, 22's on my Benz's
When shit break out, y'all hit the fences
[Chorus]
We stay bent, laid back behind tint, puffin sticks, spliff up
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
Big belt, flossy shades, paint on glaze, nigga
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
Unidentifiable straps makin heat clap sicker
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
We about reliable scratch and gettin this math quicker
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
[Verse Two]
Shit I might as well be duels, cause they call me the Flowmaster
I keep ridin tracks like a natural disaster
You know I'm 'bout macra{?} I'll clap ya, a pirate like {?}
Far from a Hollywood actor
A factor, focused on paper and cars
I move like crowds, stay minglin with the stars
I'm in the 6500 Benz truck with some broads
Dimes in every state I strike through be on me so hard
You know them Bentley bound, {?} down, wild Hummer chicks
That wanna take the car, cover up your tight summer shit
The game's heavy, man that's way off the charts
Heavier than killer whales at animal theme parks
You niggaz is SweeTarts, my family is street sharks
We keep the ER busy tryin to revive the treat marks
Shit, we merk niggaz like Eddie, get ready
We got heat that set car alarms off like M-80's
[Chorus]
[The Game]
The Game on some regular rhymin, fuck all this new shit
When they gon' let real niggaz get on that cruise ship
Black Sox and Dallas Squad got, chains and cars
Get, brains from stars after those awards
Miyagi's or doubles, don't think I won't buy out the bar
That's little shit, Mercedes dealership, buy out the cars
Sticker in the window, let 'em know that it's ours
Sittin on shit you ain't never seen like we got it from Mars
Game like Laker Will, snatch a bitch off your arm
She see Game covered in ice like I lived through a snowstorm
Plus I blow digits like my first name was {?}
Pay off security at clubs, get our guns admitted
Outside the club in the parkin lot, four dot six
Not know it's stocked? Nigga it's the one we keep the bricks in
Hard black on black leather's what we keep the chicks in
And bitches stay sniffin like smellin dubs is a sixth sense
[Chorus]
Walk Thru The Sky lyrics - The Game
[22 second instrumental to open]
[The Game]
Open your eyes, we in a new era
Less drama more unity, everything's lookin a lil' clearer
Like a face in the mirror karma
It was right before our eyes, facin the future I cried
No more Martin Luther shots, from off the words from Malcolm
Tunes from Jimi, it's sad but you gotta hear me
All praises due to the mighty Allah, God forgive me
I've been through it, but it's not all bad in me
A young kid tryin to change his ways
Every day a lil' closer, show him the light let him pave the way
Gotta see my grave someday, no more cheddar, some pictures
Grandma I'm comin to spend forever wit'cha, I miss ya
No more Sunday dinners, wish you could see your grandson now
Got bigger, all grown now
Got a daughter think she grown now, just started walkin
Just started talkin, she can potty on her own now
Life is good, memories are better
We all gotta go, I know it's cold grab a sweater
We can take that ride together, cry whatever, die whatever
Walk through the sky together, huh
[The Game]
Open your eyes, we in a new era
Less drama more unity, everything's lookin a lil' clearer
Like a face in the mirror karma
It was right before our eyes, facin the future I cried
No more Martin Luther shots, from off the words from Malcolm
Tunes from Jimi, it's sad but you gotta hear me
All praises due to the mighty Allah, God forgive me
I've been through it, but it's not all bad in me
A young kid tryin to change his ways
Every day a lil' closer, show him the light let him pave the way
Gotta see my grave someday, no more cheddar, some pictures
Grandma I'm comin to spend forever wit'cha, I miss ya
No more Sunday dinners, wish you could see your grandson now
Got bigger, all grown now
Got a daughter think she grown now, just started walkin
Just started talkin, she can potty on her own now
Life is good, memories are better
We all gotta go, I know it's cold grab a sweater
We can take that ride together, cry whatever, die whatever
Walk through the sky together, huh
Truth Rap lyrics - The Game
Yeah, big spit, it's that Bay Area game, Sean T beats
We feedin the underground with this Yay Area tycoon shit
For my nigga JT Fig', y'all know where it come from
Never forget it, that Bay Area shit mayne
Y'knahmtalkinbout? Yeah!
Game, spit that shit
[The Game]
Hey yo the kid still at it, woke up from that coma
Seen hell came back and here comes my first classic
Still chop it up at the table, still put dope in the bag
and still got dope, under the mattress
It was hustle before rappin, nuttin before that and
12 years old, a lost soul, bumpin "Illmatic"
Gunshots tried and almost took the young kid's live
Can't do it I been through it the young kid survived
Got the ghetto on my shoulder homey, it's gon' be a long ride
Bear with me, I'ma take you there with me
Show you how the sun shine in one rhyme, no more stormy weather
Streets is mine, we gon' live forever
Get it together 'Pac is watchin, Big is listenin
Eazy is talkin to us, Big Pun is witnessin
While they souls still glistenin in ghettos from Compton to Brooklyn
the shells cry, every hood's anthem
Where everybody goes to church and prayers are never answered
And they throwin us curveballs but we Hank Aarons
A picture with no canvas, streets are so skanless
Young'uns jump rope, play ball with fiends and dope handlers
Teenage mothers, deadbeat fathers, no families
Lost and often runaway or live with grandparents
Life stories with no authors, see it through, {?} Robinson's cubicles
When time life is so beautiful
Walk with me we can make it if we try, lost soldiers sometimes
We gotta die but it's okay to cry
Mothers strugglin tryin to survive, reach out grab my hand
I got'cha, won't let you go for nuttin, I promise
Praises due to Elijah Muhammad, peace be unto Farad Muhammad
Words of Minister Farrakhan
Been true, be loyal, know your roots, water your soil
Stop fightin amongst ourself from birth we royal
Who's king we fightin over a crown, while lifeguards
watch the hopes and dreams of kids and young teens drown
More infants bein born with AIDS, more parents mournin graves
The plot thickens, somebody show us the way
Tears crackin the pavement, streets breakin up
The thrill is gone and it's a long walk home
So we might as well start runnin, if it's there gotta take it
'Member Jada said "We Gon' Make It"
And it shouldn't take 9/11 to bring our minds together
Shit rough we'll grind together
Light a candle we can shine forever or I can pass
So I won't miss Aaliyah's concert in heaven
Live life while we listen to my old heads
So I glow like the memory of Lisa 'Left Eye' Lopez
Through a six-seven Brougham, ride with me through the hood mayne
Where street lights flicker and Chuck Taylors hang
And nobody know they neighbor's name 'less they sell weed or cocaine
A lot of black clouds on a block but no rain
And Game got a lot to say, so they wanna take me down
in my own front yard like Marvin Gaye
Can't do it by myself, people need help
Keep on tryin to live healthy 'til the end of my days
And when I die won't lead my daughter astray, lookin from heaven
Watch my people drive my coffin through the Compton parade
[Verse Two]
I'm in the city where it's strange where killers follow direction
And trail witness protection to get a shot at they brain
Where the babies carry semis and swallow pills for power
Count paper for polly'n, penny-pinch for hours
Take sacks from cowards when the streets is watchin
Tuck guns in trunks cause real G's is boxin
Ain't no other options if you stand on your own two
And if you came to battle you can stand in the phone booth
Cause we don't wear capes in this part of the land
Cause every youngster from my block has been a part of the plan
I've been trainin since eighty-seven and famous since eighty-nine
Teaching came from the Nation, my spirit is from divine
When I, pass the word through these raps on beats
It's fo'sho' that the Lord gon' make the whole track speak
To the streets, when I pass these beats
It's fo'sho' that the Lord gon' make the whole track speak
To the streets, y'knahmtalkinbout people?
Make the track speak, "Truth Rap," get it right
"Truth Rap" mayne, for the people, get it right, "Truth Rap"
We feedin the underground with this Yay Area tycoon shit
For my nigga JT Fig', y'all know where it come from
Never forget it, that Bay Area shit mayne
Y'knahmtalkinbout? Yeah!
Game, spit that shit
[The Game]
Hey yo the kid still at it, woke up from that coma
Seen hell came back and here comes my first classic
Still chop it up at the table, still put dope in the bag
and still got dope, under the mattress
It was hustle before rappin, nuttin before that and
12 years old, a lost soul, bumpin "Illmatic"
Gunshots tried and almost took the young kid's live
Can't do it I been through it the young kid survived
Got the ghetto on my shoulder homey, it's gon' be a long ride
Bear with me, I'ma take you there with me
Show you how the sun shine in one rhyme, no more stormy weather
Streets is mine, we gon' live forever
Get it together 'Pac is watchin, Big is listenin
Eazy is talkin to us, Big Pun is witnessin
While they souls still glistenin in ghettos from Compton to Brooklyn
the shells cry, every hood's anthem
Where everybody goes to church and prayers are never answered
And they throwin us curveballs but we Hank Aarons
A picture with no canvas, streets are so skanless
Young'uns jump rope, play ball with fiends and dope handlers
Teenage mothers, deadbeat fathers, no families
Lost and often runaway or live with grandparents
Life stories with no authors, see it through, {?} Robinson's cubicles
When time life is so beautiful
Walk with me we can make it if we try, lost soldiers sometimes
We gotta die but it's okay to cry
Mothers strugglin tryin to survive, reach out grab my hand
I got'cha, won't let you go for nuttin, I promise
Praises due to Elijah Muhammad, peace be unto Farad Muhammad
Words of Minister Farrakhan
Been true, be loyal, know your roots, water your soil
Stop fightin amongst ourself from birth we royal
Who's king we fightin over a crown, while lifeguards
watch the hopes and dreams of kids and young teens drown
More infants bein born with AIDS, more parents mournin graves
The plot thickens, somebody show us the way
Tears crackin the pavement, streets breakin up
The thrill is gone and it's a long walk home
So we might as well start runnin, if it's there gotta take it
'Member Jada said "We Gon' Make It"
And it shouldn't take 9/11 to bring our minds together
Shit rough we'll grind together
Light a candle we can shine forever or I can pass
So I won't miss Aaliyah's concert in heaven
Live life while we listen to my old heads
So I glow like the memory of Lisa 'Left Eye' Lopez
Through a six-seven Brougham, ride with me through the hood mayne
Where street lights flicker and Chuck Taylors hang
And nobody know they neighbor's name 'less they sell weed or cocaine
A lot of black clouds on a block but no rain
And Game got a lot to say, so they wanna take me down
in my own front yard like Marvin Gaye
Can't do it by myself, people need help
Keep on tryin to live healthy 'til the end of my days
And when I die won't lead my daughter astray, lookin from heaven
Watch my people drive my coffin through the Compton parade
[Verse Two]
I'm in the city where it's strange where killers follow direction
And trail witness protection to get a shot at they brain
Where the babies carry semis and swallow pills for power
Count paper for polly'n, penny-pinch for hours
Take sacks from cowards when the streets is watchin
Tuck guns in trunks cause real G's is boxin
Ain't no other options if you stand on your own two
And if you came to battle you can stand in the phone booth
Cause we don't wear capes in this part of the land
Cause every youngster from my block has been a part of the plan
I've been trainin since eighty-seven and famous since eighty-nine
Teaching came from the Nation, my spirit is from divine
When I, pass the word through these raps on beats
It's fo'sho' that the Lord gon' make the whole track speak
To the streets, when I pass these beats
It's fo'sho' that the Lord gon' make the whole track speak
To the streets, y'knahmtalkinbout people?
Make the track speak, "Truth Rap," get it right
"Truth Rap" mayne, for the people, get it right, "Truth Rap"
Drop Ya Thangs lyrics - The Game (feat. JT)
[Chorus]
Drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
[Verse One: JT]
Yo, I hit the party in my t-shirt and tennis shoes
They all watchin in they Hot Boys and church suits
Actin tough in the club ain't gon' get you home
Gettin drunk off of Patron just gon' get you domed
Still steppin on my shoes, boy this nigga happy
This nigga thank he Lil' Jon and his partner Scrappy
Goin dumb with his bitch so he don't like me
This ain't the South boy, we ain't crunk we go hyphy
You gotta know the rules, player let it go
You get to trippin my nigga you gotta hit the do'
Rollin up this eight-nine gram I'm tryin to make a plan
Tuggin on yo' main bitch hand, tryin to make a friend
This time for escapade only make the tec a-spray
I'm in the parkin lot, standin by the Escalade
You got a problem we ain't fightin like a man
One-on-one with the Fig', get yo' face in the sand, nigga
[Chorus]
[Hook: JT]
Nigga you a bitch wit'cho gun, snitch wit'cho gun
Still get found in a ditch wit'cho gun
Bitch wit'cho gun, snitch wit'cho gun
Still get found in a ditch wit'cho gun
[Verse Two: JT]
Yo, Fig' never play with them guns, no you hear me
Fig' ain't shot nuttin up but kill spirits
Fig' ain't the one to be, scared of the losses
One-on-one fightin for stripes with right crosses
Uppercuts and heatbutts to get a head rush
Bitch niggaz rather kick back, and let they lead bust
I been a pitbull since Fila {?} and Kenny Ken
Used to chuck 'em by the corner sto' whoever win
Them was my O.G.'s, and I was just a B.G.
Whoever want to see me, Figgaro can {?}
But now we got them old niggaz that bust with they tommy
But caught without they tommy get rushed like salami
Cause everybody tired of them R.I.P.'s
We 'bout to bring this fightin back mayne to all our streets
Now, cowards wanna pack and, killers wanna cruise and
Real niggaz stand alone mayne and do what we do
I wanna bust you but homey let me ask you
Why you wanna play with that gun, and make me blast you
Moms all cryin and shit, she gotta ask you
{?} better to save on caskets you dumb nigga
[Chorus + Hook]
[Verse Three: JT]
Oh boy! Old friends like to make up and get cavi
Hell nah, she in the club wit'cho baby daddy
She got the coat on he bought you for yo' birthday (oh no!)
You kickin back, I'm 'bout to clown him in the worst way (bitch)
Team on preem' like he hangin out with 'Pac brother
And you a boss for not cuttin him with the boxcutter
And it was cool 'til this chick really got to trippin
Spittin drink in yo' face, boy she popped up pimpin (what?)
Zoked out like, fat boy you can't breathe
Bounce back and grab that trick by her fuckin weave
Bring her to the flo', teach her 'bout the Get Low
She gon' really know, mob her on the danceflo'
[Chorus + Hook]
[JT]
Yeah I gotta acknowledge them fo' carloads of HP niggaz
that came to Fillmoe for y'all one-on-ones mayne, and y'all got it mayne
Niggaz put the guns down and after that nigga it was real big
They get stripes for that, nigga, special shoutout nigga
to them three young Sunnydale niggaz
Nigga that was surrounded by ten Fillmoe niggaz mayne
And all y'all wanted was one-on-ones and y'all got it nigga
Stripes for that!
[Chorus + Hook]
Drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
[Verse One: JT]
Yo, I hit the party in my t-shirt and tennis shoes
They all watchin in they Hot Boys and church suits
Actin tough in the club ain't gon' get you home
Gettin drunk off of Patron just gon' get you domed
Still steppin on my shoes, boy this nigga happy
This nigga thank he Lil' Jon and his partner Scrappy
Goin dumb with his bitch so he don't like me
This ain't the South boy, we ain't crunk we go hyphy
You gotta know the rules, player let it go
You get to trippin my nigga you gotta hit the do'
Rollin up this eight-nine gram I'm tryin to make a plan
Tuggin on yo' main bitch hand, tryin to make a friend
This time for escapade only make the tec a-spray
I'm in the parkin lot, standin by the Escalade
You got a problem we ain't fightin like a man
One-on-one with the Fig', get yo' face in the sand, nigga
[Chorus]
[Hook: JT]
Nigga you a bitch wit'cho gun, snitch wit'cho gun
Still get found in a ditch wit'cho gun
Bitch wit'cho gun, snitch wit'cho gun
Still get found in a ditch wit'cho gun
[Verse Two: JT]
Yo, Fig' never play with them guns, no you hear me
Fig' ain't shot nuttin up but kill spirits
Fig' ain't the one to be, scared of the losses
One-on-one fightin for stripes with right crosses
Uppercuts and heatbutts to get a head rush
Bitch niggaz rather kick back, and let they lead bust
I been a pitbull since Fila {?} and Kenny Ken
Used to chuck 'em by the corner sto' whoever win
Them was my O.G.'s, and I was just a B.G.
Whoever want to see me, Figgaro can {?}
But now we got them old niggaz that bust with they tommy
But caught without they tommy get rushed like salami
Cause everybody tired of them R.I.P.'s
We 'bout to bring this fightin back mayne to all our streets
Now, cowards wanna pack and, killers wanna cruise and
Real niggaz stand alone mayne and do what we do
I wanna bust you but homey let me ask you
Why you wanna play with that gun, and make me blast you
Moms all cryin and shit, she gotta ask you
{?} better to save on caskets you dumb nigga
[Chorus + Hook]
[Verse Three: JT]
Oh boy! Old friends like to make up and get cavi
Hell nah, she in the club wit'cho baby daddy
She got the coat on he bought you for yo' birthday (oh no!)
You kickin back, I'm 'bout to clown him in the worst way (bitch)
Team on preem' like he hangin out with 'Pac brother
And you a boss for not cuttin him with the boxcutter
And it was cool 'til this chick really got to trippin
Spittin drink in yo' face, boy she popped up pimpin (what?)
Zoked out like, fat boy you can't breathe
Bounce back and grab that trick by her fuckin weave
Bring her to the flo', teach her 'bout the Get Low
She gon' really know, mob her on the danceflo'
[Chorus + Hook]
[JT]
Yeah I gotta acknowledge them fo' carloads of HP niggaz
that came to Fillmoe for y'all one-on-ones mayne, and y'all got it mayne
Niggaz put the guns down and after that nigga it was real big
They get stripes for that, nigga, special shoutout nigga
to them three young Sunnydale niggaz
Nigga that was surrounded by ten Fillmoe niggaz mayne
And all y'all wanted was one-on-ones and y'all got it nigga
Stripes for that!
[Chorus + Hook]
The Game Get Live lyrics - The Game (feat. JT)
[20 seconds of instrumental to open]
[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. fitted 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 converts 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'
[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]
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]
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. fitted 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 converts 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'
[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]
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 Streetz Of Compton lyrics - The Game (feat. JT)
[JT]
G-Man Stan, yeah mayne
I see you done put together one of them tracks mayne
Let me get on down here to the C-P-T
Better known as Compton mayne
Get my young homey The Game, y'knahmean?
Young nigga up outta Compton mayne, y'knahmsayin?
This 2002, we gon' see what it do mayne
Y'knahmean? Yarra
[The Game]
Now everybody wanna know the truth about a nigga named Game
I come from the hub and every ghetto ain't the same
A lot of people already know exactly where it's at
Cause it's the home of the jackers and the crack
(Compton!) Yeah that's the name of my hometown
I'm goin down, in the town, where my name is all around
A nigga just be hatin and shit, that's a pity
But I ain't doin nuttin but claimin my city
[Chorus: JT]
Where they actin a fool, and they carry the tool
Them sick dudes in the streets of Compton
Where I found The Game, he was stackin his change
to maintain in the streets of Compton
Took a trip to the Sco, got low for the dough
In Fillmoe from the streets of Compton
Now we stackin the bread, never run from the feds
They shed treads in the streets of Compton
[The Game]
See my lyrics are double or nothin provin to suckers I can throw 'em
Pass the natural 10 to 4 and six-eight before I go
Not really into freestylin, or tryin to promote violence
But they gotta know about the five-five-fo', so
That's how I'm livin, I do as I please B
A young gangsta put in work on these Cali streets
And everybody know, that you gotta be stompin
If you're born and raised in Compton
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Nowww Compton is a place, where all my niggaz chill dog
'til I found out, the streets get real dog
'Bout a year ago, somebody musta wanted me to die
Cause they kicked in the door, and gave the young kid five
They musta thought that I was gon' play the bitch role
Cause I lived through fo' five six holes
But I ain't goin out like no faggot-ass clown
They found, they couldn't keep a gangsta nigga down
So here's the burner in your face motherfucker silly sucker
ass clucker now you're duckin cause you can't stop a Y.G.
Gangsta, cause I'm true to my game
You're lame, and thangs ain't gon' never be the same
Cause a nigga like the Game is takin over
I really don't think I should have to explain
Oh yeah I'm a dog but my name ain't Rover
And I'm the kinda nigga that's feelin no pain
Sometimes I have to wear a bulletproof vest
Because I got the C-P-T style written across my chest
A gangsta motherfucker never ceasin to impress
My name is young Game so you can fuck, the rest
I'm comin like this and I'm comin directly
Cause niggaz gettin all stirred up, I'm doin damage quite effectively
Rhymin is a battlezone and niggaz can't win
Cause I'm a gangsta from the C-O-M-P-T-O-N
[Chorus]
[JT and Game ad lib shoutouts]
G-Man Stan, yeah mayne
I see you done put together one of them tracks mayne
Let me get on down here to the C-P-T
Better known as Compton mayne
Get my young homey The Game, y'knahmean?
Young nigga up outta Compton mayne, y'knahmsayin?
This 2002, we gon' see what it do mayne
Y'knahmean? Yarra
[The Game]
Now everybody wanna know the truth about a nigga named Game
I come from the hub and every ghetto ain't the same
A lot of people already know exactly where it's at
Cause it's the home of the jackers and the crack
(Compton!) Yeah that's the name of my hometown
I'm goin down, in the town, where my name is all around
A nigga just be hatin and shit, that's a pity
But I ain't doin nuttin but claimin my city
[Chorus: JT]
Where they actin a fool, and they carry the tool
Them sick dudes in the streets of Compton
Where I found The Game, he was stackin his change
to maintain in the streets of Compton
Took a trip to the Sco, got low for the dough
In Fillmoe from the streets of Compton
Now we stackin the bread, never run from the feds
They shed treads in the streets of Compton
[The Game]
See my lyrics are double or nothin provin to suckers I can throw 'em
Pass the natural 10 to 4 and six-eight before I go
Not really into freestylin, or tryin to promote violence
But they gotta know about the five-five-fo', so
That's how I'm livin, I do as I please B
A young gangsta put in work on these Cali streets
And everybody know, that you gotta be stompin
If you're born and raised in Compton
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Nowww Compton is a place, where all my niggaz chill dog
'til I found out, the streets get real dog
'Bout a year ago, somebody musta wanted me to die
Cause they kicked in the door, and gave the young kid five
They musta thought that I was gon' play the bitch role
Cause I lived through fo' five six holes
But I ain't goin out like no faggot-ass clown
They found, they couldn't keep a gangsta nigga down
So here's the burner in your face motherfucker silly sucker
ass clucker now you're duckin cause you can't stop a Y.G.
Gangsta, cause I'm true to my game
You're lame, and thangs ain't gon' never be the same
Cause a nigga like the Game is takin over
I really don't think I should have to explain
Oh yeah I'm a dog but my name ain't Rover
And I'm the kinda nigga that's feelin no pain
Sometimes I have to wear a bulletproof vest
Because I got the C-P-T style written across my chest
A gangsta motherfucker never ceasin to impress
My name is young Game so you can fuck, the rest
I'm comin like this and I'm comin directly
Cause niggaz gettin all stirred up, I'm doin damage quite effectively
Rhymin is a battlezone and niggaz can't win
Cause I'm a gangsta from the C-O-M-P-T-O-N
[Chorus]
[JT and Game ad lib shoutouts]
Blacksox lyrics - The Game (feat. Bluechip, JT)
[JT]
Another G-Man Stan production
The originator of this 808 shit in the Bay area
You got your boy JT the Bigga Figga
thuggin it out with my young nigga the Game, and my homey Bluechip
Blacksox, oh boy! Hooked up with Get Low Records
Puttin this shit together, my nigga
It ain't a nigga in the game that could hold me down
I've been independent forever so they know me now
And I'm the cat they gotta find when they wanna get signed
You wanna get your paper right you gotta study my grind
I'm like Rush in "Krush Groove," a nigga that bust moves
right out, and tuck tools, bullets that bust dudes
Ain't no beef in the briefcase, just beef for Pete's sake
We round up cats, to beat 'em in a street race
We count paper up, to make a nigga change his plans
They under weight so they ain't gettin off they gram
You mad at my boys, cause we choppin 'em in
They make twenty then the Fig want 10
That's the rules that the Get Low, play by
The block boys stay high, California stock with K-5
It's the rules that the Get Low play by
Them block boys stay high, the California K-5
[Chorus: The Game]
Huh, it's the Blacksox doin a joint together
The whole world stoppin to listen, ol' breakers poplockin to this
And white boys headboppin in 6's, niggaz boxin in prison
Shit bang hard like a conjugal visit
And the game ain't big enough for niggaz so move over
Matter fact, move out, we takin over
Them boys is comin, and they aimin straight for the neck
The B-L-A, C-K, S-O-X
[Bluechip]
Yo, yo, well it's the B dot L dot, you know the rest
Wanted by the feds, hated by the ATF
You can catch me at the DuPont Inn, two dykes swallowin gin
Shorty sucked me out of my Timbs
My bad, that's your wife? Fuck your life
Anyway I heard you workin for vice
You ain't real man you hide behind ice
Youse a impostor, snatch him off the roster
Always live by the rule, get dough, or die tryin
Hardcoded into shinin
Pass the bucket now I'm back on bet it
If, beef was erased man my tool gon' finish
Never been the loudmouth type
Sugar Shane of this rap shit, southpaw when the mac spit
Listen rookie, don't make me mad boy
Or you gon' be like Big, a dead (Bad Boy)
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Huh, niggaz think they got the game sewed, yeah right
I'm air tight, fresh in them Air Nikes
If the Navi outside, I might be there
Black hoodie, black 9, black wifey airs
Rock guns like Caddy trunks, keep a spare
You see the lump under the Iceberg fleece and gear
And when the beef cook, I'ma put the piece to your head
And if you see a white truck that mean yo' sheets is dead
Then I'm goin goin, back back
to the block to dump the bucket and jump in the drop
Niggaz know I'm good with the glock, they call me Chick Hearns
Cause if the game on knot, I'm callin the shots
I'll wear a shiny suit for a minute like I'm The LOX
Then get gangster with a swap meet bag and a Jordan box
And when I die, bury me with the glock, and a bucket of shells
In case niggaz want drama in hell
[Chorus]
Another G-Man Stan production
The originator of this 808 shit in the Bay area
You got your boy JT the Bigga Figga
thuggin it out with my young nigga the Game, and my homey Bluechip
Blacksox, oh boy! Hooked up with Get Low Records
Puttin this shit together, my nigga
It ain't a nigga in the game that could hold me down
I've been independent forever so they know me now
And I'm the cat they gotta find when they wanna get signed
You wanna get your paper right you gotta study my grind
I'm like Rush in "Krush Groove," a nigga that bust moves
right out, and tuck tools, bullets that bust dudes
Ain't no beef in the briefcase, just beef for Pete's sake
We round up cats, to beat 'em in a street race
We count paper up, to make a nigga change his plans
They under weight so they ain't gettin off they gram
You mad at my boys, cause we choppin 'em in
They make twenty then the Fig want 10
That's the rules that the Get Low, play by
The block boys stay high, California stock with K-5
It's the rules that the Get Low play by
Them block boys stay high, the California K-5
[Chorus: The Game]
Huh, it's the Blacksox doin a joint together
The whole world stoppin to listen, ol' breakers poplockin to this
And white boys headboppin in 6's, niggaz boxin in prison
Shit bang hard like a conjugal visit
And the game ain't big enough for niggaz so move over
Matter fact, move out, we takin over
Them boys is comin, and they aimin straight for the neck
The B-L-A, C-K, S-O-X
[Bluechip]
Yo, yo, well it's the B dot L dot, you know the rest
Wanted by the feds, hated by the ATF
You can catch me at the DuPont Inn, two dykes swallowin gin
Shorty sucked me out of my Timbs
My bad, that's your wife? Fuck your life
Anyway I heard you workin for vice
You ain't real man you hide behind ice
Youse a impostor, snatch him off the roster
Always live by the rule, get dough, or die tryin
Hardcoded into shinin
Pass the bucket now I'm back on bet it
If, beef was erased man my tool gon' finish
Never been the loudmouth type
Sugar Shane of this rap shit, southpaw when the mac spit
Listen rookie, don't make me mad boy
Or you gon' be like Big, a dead (Bad Boy)
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Huh, niggaz think they got the game sewed, yeah right
I'm air tight, fresh in them Air Nikes
If the Navi outside, I might be there
Black hoodie, black 9, black wifey airs
Rock guns like Caddy trunks, keep a spare
You see the lump under the Iceberg fleece and gear
And when the beef cook, I'ma put the piece to your head
And if you see a white truck that mean yo' sheets is dead
Then I'm goin goin, back back
to the block to dump the bucket and jump in the drop
Niggaz know I'm good with the glock, they call me Chick Hearns
Cause if the game on knot, I'm callin the shots
I'll wear a shiny suit for a minute like I'm The LOX
Then get gangster with a swap meet bag and a Jordan box
And when I die, bury me with the glock, and a bucket of shells
In case niggaz want drama in hell
[Chorus]
Krush Groove lyrics - The Game (feat. Get Low, JT)
[JT]
We on our third song, we on our third song, heyyeyy
You understand it, I'm official with mine; I'm double-clutchin
on the fo'-wheel, pushin quarters like niggaz doin dope deals
Fo' cut 50 like a verse and a half
I cut the brick and now we countin the math, we 'bout that birdplay
My crew's committed, you dudes gon' get it
Have a seat you through when I'm finished, my troopers is fitted
Got 'em posted out in Brooklyn, Hollis Queens to the Bridge
We in the studio the Figgaro done did it again
We got factors out in the ditch where they smackin a bitch
I got homies out in the Bronx where they bustin at cops
It ain't no game with the underground, came from the underground
Pushin a hundred thousand, we out the trunk, never browsin
JT, another boss from the Bay
And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre, what'chu say nigga?
JT, another boss from the Bay
And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre, motherfucker
[Nina B]
Hey yo it seem to me like e'rybody got they own truth
Believe me I'm in them sheets like phonebooths
I play the game I was born to score
But I'm a lil' too cute for them corner stores
A little too, known, to stand on the block
And a lil' too eager to sit in the spot
Mami, I'm from the Eastside, yup yes that side
Heads fly if I open ya chest that wide
Gimme a bad vibe end up on ya backside
Or you can get your back and side splatted in back of ya ride
And I can make it happen, if I don't make it rappin
This lump of Satan I'm packin thrash 'em with a major passion
I slash ya face and fracture you flashin in the latest fashion
And have you dashin from Manhattan all the way to Aspen
Your shit is whack, heard your tape and had to take an aspirin
Step ya game up
[instrumental break]
[unknown Get Low male]
Listen, before I get up in the mornin I ask the Lord for strength
Tryin to get my niggaz out the hood, you know how the forces get
It's like the devil got a hold of my neck
And I'm gettin this change runnin 'round reppin my set
Momma used to look at me funny; she could tell her baby boy changed
Must be out there gettin some money
But it's a price for everything, you know how the game go
For them birds niggaz'll cock back the calico
Now you introduced to the beef, what'chu gon' do now?
Bitch up, skid in your crib, or pull them tools out?
A lot of niggaz is real, a lot of niggaz is fake
A lot of niggaz shake your hand and shake hands with Jake
[another Get Low male]
Fuck what'chu heard, I startled your brain
I hit the spot like a {?} in ballers and jeans
On some eighty-eight shit, more "Raw" than Kane
It's not my fault she looked at me - you better talk to your dame
That's just, part of the game and you got served
Who got nerve cause Lethal hard like Tupac words
And, why y'all Chucks always actin like tough guys
You must be trippin or you slippin on mudslides
And in the hood you see it's different from one time
What's your bloodline, play the strip to the sunshine
And I don't even know why I'm wastin my breath
I oughta be like Makaveli and be fakin my death
I keep that good shit it's tastin so fresh
And all y'all sloppy Joe niggaz yo y'all makin a mess
We on the way to yo' nap, so put your tapes in the deck
And spit in a hundred bars straight without breakin a sweat
We on our third song, we on our third song, heyyeyy
You understand it, I'm official with mine; I'm double-clutchin
on the fo'-wheel, pushin quarters like niggaz doin dope deals
Fo' cut 50 like a verse and a half
I cut the brick and now we countin the math, we 'bout that birdplay
My crew's committed, you dudes gon' get it
Have a seat you through when I'm finished, my troopers is fitted
Got 'em posted out in Brooklyn, Hollis Queens to the Bridge
We in the studio the Figgaro done did it again
We got factors out in the ditch where they smackin a bitch
I got homies out in the Bronx where they bustin at cops
It ain't no game with the underground, came from the underground
Pushin a hundred thousand, we out the trunk, never browsin
JT, another boss from the Bay
And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre, what'chu say nigga?
JT, another boss from the Bay
And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre, motherfucker
[Nina B]
Hey yo it seem to me like e'rybody got they own truth
Believe me I'm in them sheets like phonebooths
I play the game I was born to score
But I'm a lil' too cute for them corner stores
A little too, known, to stand on the block
And a lil' too eager to sit in the spot
Mami, I'm from the Eastside, yup yes that side
Heads fly if I open ya chest that wide
Gimme a bad vibe end up on ya backside
Or you can get your back and side splatted in back of ya ride
And I can make it happen, if I don't make it rappin
This lump of Satan I'm packin thrash 'em with a major passion
I slash ya face and fracture you flashin in the latest fashion
And have you dashin from Manhattan all the way to Aspen
Your shit is whack, heard your tape and had to take an aspirin
Step ya game up
[instrumental break]
[unknown Get Low male]
Listen, before I get up in the mornin I ask the Lord for strength
Tryin to get my niggaz out the hood, you know how the forces get
It's like the devil got a hold of my neck
And I'm gettin this change runnin 'round reppin my set
Momma used to look at me funny; she could tell her baby boy changed
Must be out there gettin some money
But it's a price for everything, you know how the game go
For them birds niggaz'll cock back the calico
Now you introduced to the beef, what'chu gon' do now?
Bitch up, skid in your crib, or pull them tools out?
A lot of niggaz is real, a lot of niggaz is fake
A lot of niggaz shake your hand and shake hands with Jake
[another Get Low male]
Fuck what'chu heard, I startled your brain
I hit the spot like a {?} in ballers and jeans
On some eighty-eight shit, more "Raw" than Kane
It's not my fault she looked at me - you better talk to your dame
That's just, part of the game and you got served
Who got nerve cause Lethal hard like Tupac words
And, why y'all Chucks always actin like tough guys
You must be trippin or you slippin on mudslides
And in the hood you see it's different from one time
What's your bloodline, play the strip to the sunshine
And I don't even know why I'm wastin my breath
I oughta be like Makaveli and be fakin my death
I keep that good shit it's tastin so fresh
And all y'all sloppy Joe niggaz yo y'all makin a mess
We on the way to yo' nap, so put your tapes in the deck
And spit in a hundred bars straight without breakin a sweat
Troublesome lyrics - The Game
[Chorus 2X: The Game]
Real gangstas 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 gangstas 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]
Rookie Card lyrics - The Game (feat. JT)
[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. fitted 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 converts 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]
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
Avi 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
Strap yo' body with them K's and ride, the handle is up
Switchin gears, hit the pedal and ride
[Chorus]
[The Game - fading out]
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...
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. fitted 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 converts 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]
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
Avi 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
Strap yo' body with them K's and ride, the handle is up
Switchin gears, hit the pedal and ride
[Chorus]
[The Game - fading out]
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...
Promised Land lyrics - The Game
Sometimes I wonder
Man, how long is it gon' be for my people to come out
Man we strugglin, it's hard sometimes, but
Tomorrow's better than yesterday, uhh
[The Game]
I was, born in the slums, struggled from day one
Ray Charles vision, blinded by the light from the sun
No navigation, no sense of direction, darker complexion
made it hard to live; dad, how you fathered your kids?
Stranded on the highway of life, left us out to die, left us out to dry
Shhhh, I'm still here, my mother's cries
Nigga no father figures make harder niggaz
Through the years, went to war with niggaz from what I saw in the picture
Now your son is bigger, 13, but just like you
Moms said I would grow up and be just like you
From what you did to my sister she disliked you
Sixteen, eleventh grade, look at me just like you
Gunnin for riches, runnin hoppin project fences
Street corners to Arizona, how I earn my digits
And I'm far from finished, gamin 'til my coffee diminish
Why pray for the afterlife when mines just beginnin, huh
[The Game]
Only son by our mother, no brothers, only sisters by this one
Every time I kissed one I missed one, let me explain
Eight years before the game, everything came with pain
Watch the fate of my family slain would never see good times a-gayn
Cursed with pain by a nigga with no shame
My father, that have the same name as his father
My grandfather wouldn't believe, he pulled up our family tree
I can see him rollin over in his coffin
I'm left with often, thoughts of how could you molest your daughter
They say that's ten times worse than manslaughter
Man you oughta, be dead in a grave
But it wasn't my call, so instead you sat in a cage
High-powered, two-hundred and fifty pound, six-five coward
Woulda been dead in an hour
Heard you was scared to take a shower, scared of the yard
Your end is near, you shoulda been scared of God, motherfucker
[The Game]
All my niggaz listen, huh
I stay a step ahead of the rest of y'all
Why I gotta keep a vest for y'all
Though I made it dog I still stress for y'all
Funny how my folks think rap money stretch so far
Pray to God my niggaz see through all the checks and the cars
I'm tryin to invest in what's ours, gimme a couple of years dog
I'll turn your tears stress and your scars
into lawn chairs and green grass in your yard
I'm tryin to watch my kids wrestlin yours
Not have to get 'em ready for school and strap a vest on 'em all
I know sometimes it get hard
Keep your head up mami, reach for the stars
Havin a child is like a blessing from God
You just gotta work hard, can't let your youngest star strip in that bar
I feel your pain, this shit is rippin my heart
But where and when do we start, listen to the voice in back of my mind
Can't reach all my women so I attack it in rhyme
I know what you're feelin, I'm wripin ya tears ma, it could happen in time
For now I take your tear strife sufferin, imagine it mine, huh
Man, how long is it gon' be for my people to come out
Man we strugglin, it's hard sometimes, but
Tomorrow's better than yesterday, uhh
[The Game]
I was, born in the slums, struggled from day one
Ray Charles vision, blinded by the light from the sun
No navigation, no sense of direction, darker complexion
made it hard to live; dad, how you fathered your kids?
Stranded on the highway of life, left us out to die, left us out to dry
Shhhh, I'm still here, my mother's cries
Nigga no father figures make harder niggaz
Through the years, went to war with niggaz from what I saw in the picture
Now your son is bigger, 13, but just like you
Moms said I would grow up and be just like you
From what you did to my sister she disliked you
Sixteen, eleventh grade, look at me just like you
Gunnin for riches, runnin hoppin project fences
Street corners to Arizona, how I earn my digits
And I'm far from finished, gamin 'til my coffee diminish
Why pray for the afterlife when mines just beginnin, huh
[The Game]
Only son by our mother, no brothers, only sisters by this one
Every time I kissed one I missed one, let me explain
Eight years before the game, everything came with pain
Watch the fate of my family slain would never see good times a-gayn
Cursed with pain by a nigga with no shame
My father, that have the same name as his father
My grandfather wouldn't believe, he pulled up our family tree
I can see him rollin over in his coffin
I'm left with often, thoughts of how could you molest your daughter
They say that's ten times worse than manslaughter
Man you oughta, be dead in a grave
But it wasn't my call, so instead you sat in a cage
High-powered, two-hundred and fifty pound, six-five coward
Woulda been dead in an hour
Heard you was scared to take a shower, scared of the yard
Your end is near, you shoulda been scared of God, motherfucker
[The Game]
All my niggaz listen, huh
I stay a step ahead of the rest of y'all
Why I gotta keep a vest for y'all
Though I made it dog I still stress for y'all
Funny how my folks think rap money stretch so far
Pray to God my niggaz see through all the checks and the cars
I'm tryin to invest in what's ours, gimme a couple of years dog
I'll turn your tears stress and your scars
into lawn chairs and green grass in your yard
I'm tryin to watch my kids wrestlin yours
Not have to get 'em ready for school and strap a vest on 'em all
I know sometimes it get hard
Keep your head up mami, reach for the stars
Havin a child is like a blessing from God
You just gotta work hard, can't let your youngest star strip in that bar
I feel your pain, this shit is rippin my heart
But where and when do we start, listen to the voice in back of my mind
Can't reach all my women so I attack it in rhyme
I know what you're feelin, I'm wripin ya tears ma, it could happen in time
For now I take your tear strife sufferin, imagine it mine, huh
Gutta Boyz lyrics - The Game (feat. Sean T)
(We gangsta daddy!)
[Sean T]
Yuh!
I'm sippin on that 'notiq the color of Hulk man
And the blueberry smoke got a nigga twerkin
You niggaz is perkin - so you doin it big?
You roll deep but when I see you it's just you and your kids
I roll sick, my rims feel like helicopter propellers
And my pockets run deep like a Mercer teller
Haters trip when they see the whip dippin by
The paint on it change like the I-95
I'm just Clyde, without the Bonnie, I got the hollowpoint
heat for you niggaz and the po' for the mamis
Sean Gotti, I'm puttin an end to camraderie
I'm lettin off heat, 'til them eyes get watery
Some gon' ricochet, some gon' hit, y'all gon' get 'em
Fluids gon' disperse out like refreshin club serum
I'm deadly as bite venom but I'm far from a snake
I'll hit you up on your birthday while you cuttin your cake
[Chorus: The Game]
We gangsters nigga; you see the cars, the whips
The chains, the fuckin broads we with
We gangsters nigga; we'll come through your hood
a hundred deep and empty the whole clip
We gangsters nigga; we got guns for the beef
And my niggaz'll put you under the street
We gangsters nigga; so you better watch what you say
'Fore I empty the whole glock in your face
[Sean T]
Streets is tough, but ain't no hopscotch lines on the ground
Just burner shells, and police siren sounds
Niggaz know who I am in the town; it ain't a circus
But it might as well be, cause you know I'ma clown
I'm a terrain boss, I know most niggaz envious dawg
And if a nigga owe me change you better give me it dawg
If you feelin like you wanna leap, make like a frog
You niggaz lame, transparent like Wonder Woman's plane
I'm a stunna in this game, a federal figure
Blowin doj' in the hummer, 50 K on my fingers
I'm like a NASCAR winner poppin Mo' and Bill{?}
D-Squad don't give a fuck about nobody else
I pull a {?} to contain your whole, clique for hours
The end result will probably be, pinewood and flowers
So I'll advise you deduct your QP's and powder
We gangsters and we jackin cowards (yup!)
[Chorus]
[Sean T]
S.T. nigga D-Squad, G.G.D
Don't get it twisted motherfucker yeah we do creep
We ride out thug, shit we don't die
We lay low like mechanics tryin to fix up rides
A lot of cats say I'm sick in the head, when I anger it's on
Poodles gon' be up missin or dead
I chop haters up, like an old-ass sample
Or creep through your village, like Stallone in "Rambo"
I'm like piranhas on red meat, I'm on you niggaz
You afros? Then I guess I got to comb you niggaz
So break bread, when you see me dawg hit the flo'
I'm like a nigga off the X, unpredicta-ble
Imitators always hollerin how gangsta they is
But got about as much courage as the Lion in "The Wiz"
Shit I'm into pullin shanks on you fake Jake cats
Me and my burner hold it down man we go way back
[Chorus]
[Sean T]
Yuh!
I'm sippin on that 'notiq the color of Hulk man
And the blueberry smoke got a nigga twerkin
You niggaz is perkin - so you doin it big?
You roll deep but when I see you it's just you and your kids
I roll sick, my rims feel like helicopter propellers
And my pockets run deep like a Mercer teller
Haters trip when they see the whip dippin by
The paint on it change like the I-95
I'm just Clyde, without the Bonnie, I got the hollowpoint
heat for you niggaz and the po' for the mamis
Sean Gotti, I'm puttin an end to camraderie
I'm lettin off heat, 'til them eyes get watery
Some gon' ricochet, some gon' hit, y'all gon' get 'em
Fluids gon' disperse out like refreshin club serum
I'm deadly as bite venom but I'm far from a snake
I'll hit you up on your birthday while you cuttin your cake
[Chorus: The Game]
We gangsters nigga; you see the cars, the whips
The chains, the fuckin broads we with
We gangsters nigga; we'll come through your hood
a hundred deep and empty the whole clip
We gangsters nigga; we got guns for the beef
And my niggaz'll put you under the street
We gangsters nigga; so you better watch what you say
'Fore I empty the whole glock in your face
[Sean T]
Streets is tough, but ain't no hopscotch lines on the ground
Just burner shells, and police siren sounds
Niggaz know who I am in the town; it ain't a circus
But it might as well be, cause you know I'ma clown
I'm a terrain boss, I know most niggaz envious dawg
And if a nigga owe me change you better give me it dawg
If you feelin like you wanna leap, make like a frog
You niggaz lame, transparent like Wonder Woman's plane
I'm a stunna in this game, a federal figure
Blowin doj' in the hummer, 50 K on my fingers
I'm like a NASCAR winner poppin Mo' and Bill{?}
D-Squad don't give a fuck about nobody else
I pull a {?} to contain your whole, clique for hours
The end result will probably be, pinewood and flowers
So I'll advise you deduct your QP's and powder
We gangsters and we jackin cowards (yup!)
[Chorus]
[Sean T]
S.T. nigga D-Squad, G.G.D
Don't get it twisted motherfucker yeah we do creep
We ride out thug, shit we don't die
We lay low like mechanics tryin to fix up rides
A lot of cats say I'm sick in the head, when I anger it's on
Poodles gon' be up missin or dead
I chop haters up, like an old-ass sample
Or creep through your village, like Stallone in "Rambo"
I'm like piranhas on red meat, I'm on you niggaz
You afros? Then I guess I got to comb you niggaz
So break bread, when you see me dawg hit the flo'
I'm like a nigga off the X, unpredicta-ble
Imitators always hollerin how gangsta they is
But got about as much courage as the Lion in "The Wiz"
Shit I'm into pullin shanks on you fake Jake cats
Me and my burner hold it down man we go way back
[Chorus]
Put It In The Air lyrics - The Game (feat. Sky)
[19 second instrumental to open]
[Sky]
Who's hot, who's not; I been the hottest thing
on the West, ever since the death of Tupac
Kept my crack in clear capsules with blue tops
And it's still nothin for me to get you shot
You see him? Yup, the same ol' pimp
Sky baller, and ain't nuttin changed but my limp
Natural born player, mine not a lame or a simp
The world is mine, you see my name on a blimp
Stay Dolce Gabbana'd down, play the Bahamas now
Youse a donkey, I'ma piranha clown
I keep thick bread, in the pockets of my sweats
While I'm drivin I get head in the cockpit of my 'Vette
And my game is sharp as a mosquito's needle
As far as the charts, young S be's the Beatles
Purple haze smoke in the urr, blow in the wind
The rims right there when I stop they still go and they spin
I can teach you how to stunt boy, and pop that trunk boy
Them city slickers ain't never been punks boy
So fix your ice grill, and your mean mug
Unless you wanna feel a few M-16 slugs
[Chorus 2X: The Game]
Nigga you got a blunt then put it in the air
Nigga you got a gun then put it in the air
Nigga you from a gang then put in in the air
Play with Killa Cali if you want, muh'fuckers
[The Game]
I ain't got no time for fake ones, so don't think for a second
I won't pull this 45 and put your stomach where your neck is
If I tell you kiss the sky better respect it
Or get yo' ass hog-tied, butt-ass naked
I'm doin this for Eazy, like it or not
I wouldn't even be rappin if Eric Wright wouldn'ta dropped
I love this shit, I work and I'm good
I ain't on corner fuckers but I'm still in the hood
I'm poised to go platinum, that's what the magazines sayin
Fuck The Source, I got my own magazines man
I call her Shirley, she got a 32 round clip
And she love hangin out wit'chu girlies
I'm like them Philly nigs that come through "Early"
Through your front door without knockin like Mr. Furley
It's just me, you and the semi - "Three's Company"
You want the crown, you be U.G.K. like Bun B
[Chorus]
[Sky]
I rock jewels, cop tools, I will not lose
A million miles a minute is how my block moves
I stay in the fast lane, never fakin, cheddar chasin
I'm in the game for the cash mayne
And bitches play this in they Benzes, Jeeps and G.O.'s
They say I'm arrogant and got a big ego
But they still love to swallow me up
And every hotel suite, they wanna follow me up
But I ain't gon' put my dick in for free, nah ma
You want the kid then you gotta pay this pimpin a fee
And ain't no champagne left, so let's toast 'gnac
Sky baller and Game 'bout to bring the West coast back
I'm on that get dough shit, that Frank War{?} pimpin that ho shit
In Cali smokin that 'dro shit
I still push fishscale, and china white
A lil' nigga with a big gun and I ain't tryin to fight
[Chorus]
[Sky]
Who's hot, who's not; I been the hottest thing
on the West, ever since the death of Tupac
Kept my crack in clear capsules with blue tops
And it's still nothin for me to get you shot
You see him? Yup, the same ol' pimp
Sky baller, and ain't nuttin changed but my limp
Natural born player, mine not a lame or a simp
The world is mine, you see my name on a blimp
Stay Dolce Gabbana'd down, play the Bahamas now
Youse a donkey, I'ma piranha clown
I keep thick bread, in the pockets of my sweats
While I'm drivin I get head in the cockpit of my 'Vette
And my game is sharp as a mosquito's needle
As far as the charts, young S be's the Beatles
Purple haze smoke in the urr, blow in the wind
The rims right there when I stop they still go and they spin
I can teach you how to stunt boy, and pop that trunk boy
Them city slickers ain't never been punks boy
So fix your ice grill, and your mean mug
Unless you wanna feel a few M-16 slugs
[Chorus 2X: The Game]
Nigga you got a blunt then put it in the air
Nigga you got a gun then put it in the air
Nigga you from a gang then put in in the air
Play with Killa Cali if you want, muh'fuckers
[The Game]
I ain't got no time for fake ones, so don't think for a second
I won't pull this 45 and put your stomach where your neck is
If I tell you kiss the sky better respect it
Or get yo' ass hog-tied, butt-ass naked
I'm doin this for Eazy, like it or not
I wouldn't even be rappin if Eric Wright wouldn'ta dropped
I love this shit, I work and I'm good
I ain't on corner fuckers but I'm still in the hood
I'm poised to go platinum, that's what the magazines sayin
Fuck The Source, I got my own magazines man
I call her Shirley, she got a 32 round clip
And she love hangin out wit'chu girlies
I'm like them Philly nigs that come through "Early"
Through your front door without knockin like Mr. Furley
It's just me, you and the semi - "Three's Company"
You want the crown, you be U.G.K. like Bun B
[Chorus]
[Sky]
I rock jewels, cop tools, I will not lose
A million miles a minute is how my block moves
I stay in the fast lane, never fakin, cheddar chasin
I'm in the game for the cash mayne
And bitches play this in they Benzes, Jeeps and G.O.'s
They say I'm arrogant and got a big ego
But they still love to swallow me up
And every hotel suite, they wanna follow me up
But I ain't gon' put my dick in for free, nah ma
You want the kid then you gotta pay this pimpin a fee
And ain't no champagne left, so let's toast 'gnac
Sky baller and Game 'bout to bring the West coast back
I'm on that get dough shit, that Frank War{?} pimpin that ho shit
In Cali smokin that 'dro shit
I still push fishscale, and china white
A lil' nigga with a big gun and I ain't tryin to fight
[Chorus]
Desparados lyrics - The Game
I'm tucked on the border line
Where I'm picturing stones
I hit the switch, and watch them bitches be gone
Get it right figga, I'm in my rear view
Cause the streets can hear you
Bright moon to steer you, it's gotta be wild
Get in position cause the streets you'll find
Matter of fact I'm on a detail grind
Without no female lies, me and my team move
Ice like snow storms, the price gets
Tighter than vise grips, cause game is priceless
Jammed up with ice picks no way you can write this
Seven on the dices, the way that I like shit
Catch me in the background holding the mac now
You never back down bitch you better back down
Look in my eyes nigga tell me what you see
This right here, it's for the books like Frasier and Ali
Strap in ya belt cause we takin' the ride
Through this concrete jungle, where you scratch to survive
Ya gotta, play by the rules cause the wolves is lurkin'
Night time the streets is quiet, but them wolves is workin'
You can slip if you want, that's when ya know it's real
Back against the wall, that's when ya blow the steel
Hey yo I spit that crack, hit you with a freebie
After that, bet you keep coming back to see me
See me, now picture that
When I'm better than any other chick that rap
Ya'll acting like I ain't never picked up the bat
Or picked up a mac, and make a bitch shit in her slacks
So try chill and relax, till I little spaz
I done filpped chicks for just trying to give me a dap
But since boy I take ya jewels, I ain't givin 'em back
And they can investigate me I ain't givin 'em jack
It's neither big I bang [?] for the streets strictly
That's why everywhere I go I got beef in the east with me
Give me ya leaf and the piece is sticky, don't try nothing tricky
I punch you in ya neck go tell ya moms to hit me
Custom made khaki's, no I'm not sticky
Who told ya'll chicks you was fucking with me
Look in my eyes nigga tell me what you see
This right here, it's for the books like Frasier and Ali
Strap in ya belt cause we takin' the ride
Through this concrete jungle, where you scratch to survive
Ya gotta, play by the rules cause the wolves is lurkin'
Night time the streets is quiet, but them wolves is workin'
You can slip if you want, that's when ya know it's real
Back against the wall, that's when ya blow the steel
Too many hutlers, and not enough customers
Shit on the hood, nobody gonna have no love for ya
Losing ya street cred on the real you can eat lead
And you don't want no problems, praying that the beef dead
Yo they brought me back to strangle the mood
The little and Slick Rick neck dangling gold
I ain't home but few times a day I be changing my clothes
I want this next generation to know
When rap suck, you brought it back to the essence
So sit back and really think before you ask any questions
Got this game in the cobra clutch cowards ya'll know what's up
And ya shook what's on this earth I seen so much stuff
I used to roll with Russ, the doors opened up
Doing big big things like making clothes and stuff
Street master mind, ya'll talking asinine
And I ain't have no choice my nigga I had to grind
I'm known for making moves, labels be baking fools
Everything is fixed, it's like people get paid to lose
A few occasions my neighbourhood do it major news
Ya boy got more flavor than Jamican food
Look in my eyes nigga tell me what you see
This right here, it's for the books like Frasier and Ali
Strap in ya belt cause we takin' the ride
Through this concrete jungle, where you scratch to survive
Ya gotta, play by the rules cause the wolves is lurkin'
Night time the streets is quiet, but them wolves is workin'
You can slip if you want, that's when ya know it's real
Back against the wall, that's when ya blow the steel
Let's slow the process elimination
My niggas out for that mighty Dollar, What you chasing?
I done been where you trying to go and back again
I done seen niggas bang they own niggas
And believe me not an accident, so you think I give a fuck
What you say, how you feel
My niggas never tell shit, but a coward will
I used to yap about the Maybach
A real nigga in this industry is like a needle in the hay stack
Fresh deodors, what we got before us
Suckers think they flow sick mind is rigor mortis
I don't know who the fuck ya playing with
Price on ya head could be that bitch ya laying with
That'll take you to ya maker, while I'm in Jamica
Twistin up that Celtic green niggas post like Vin Baker
Where I'm picturing stones
I hit the switch, and watch them bitches be gone
Get it right figga, I'm in my rear view
Cause the streets can hear you
Bright moon to steer you, it's gotta be wild
Get in position cause the streets you'll find
Matter of fact I'm on a detail grind
Without no female lies, me and my team move
Ice like snow storms, the price gets
Tighter than vise grips, cause game is priceless
Jammed up with ice picks no way you can write this
Seven on the dices, the way that I like shit
Catch me in the background holding the mac now
You never back down bitch you better back down
Look in my eyes nigga tell me what you see
This right here, it's for the books like Frasier and Ali
Strap in ya belt cause we takin' the ride
Through this concrete jungle, where you scratch to survive
Ya gotta, play by the rules cause the wolves is lurkin'
Night time the streets is quiet, but them wolves is workin'
You can slip if you want, that's when ya know it's real
Back against the wall, that's when ya blow the steel
Hey yo I spit that crack, hit you with a freebie
After that, bet you keep coming back to see me
See me, now picture that
When I'm better than any other chick that rap
Ya'll acting like I ain't never picked up the bat
Or picked up a mac, and make a bitch shit in her slacks
So try chill and relax, till I little spaz
I done filpped chicks for just trying to give me a dap
But since boy I take ya jewels, I ain't givin 'em back
And they can investigate me I ain't givin 'em jack
It's neither big I bang [?] for the streets strictly
That's why everywhere I go I got beef in the east with me
Give me ya leaf and the piece is sticky, don't try nothing tricky
I punch you in ya neck go tell ya moms to hit me
Custom made khaki's, no I'm not sticky
Who told ya'll chicks you was fucking with me
Look in my eyes nigga tell me what you see
This right here, it's for the books like Frasier and Ali
Strap in ya belt cause we takin' the ride
Through this concrete jungle, where you scratch to survive
Ya gotta, play by the rules cause the wolves is lurkin'
Night time the streets is quiet, but them wolves is workin'
You can slip if you want, that's when ya know it's real
Back against the wall, that's when ya blow the steel
Too many hutlers, and not enough customers
Shit on the hood, nobody gonna have no love for ya
Losing ya street cred on the real you can eat lead
And you don't want no problems, praying that the beef dead
Yo they brought me back to strangle the mood
The little and Slick Rick neck dangling gold
I ain't home but few times a day I be changing my clothes
I want this next generation to know
When rap suck, you brought it back to the essence
So sit back and really think before you ask any questions
Got this game in the cobra clutch cowards ya'll know what's up
And ya shook what's on this earth I seen so much stuff
I used to roll with Russ, the doors opened up
Doing big big things like making clothes and stuff
Street master mind, ya'll talking asinine
And I ain't have no choice my nigga I had to grind
I'm known for making moves, labels be baking fools
Everything is fixed, it's like people get paid to lose
A few occasions my neighbourhood do it major news
Ya boy got more flavor than Jamican food
Look in my eyes nigga tell me what you see
This right here, it's for the books like Frasier and Ali
Strap in ya belt cause we takin' the ride
Through this concrete jungle, where you scratch to survive
Ya gotta, play by the rules cause the wolves is lurkin'
Night time the streets is quiet, but them wolves is workin'
You can slip if you want, that's when ya know it's real
Back against the wall, that's when ya blow the steel
Let's slow the process elimination
My niggas out for that mighty Dollar, What you chasing?
I done been where you trying to go and back again
I done seen niggas bang they own niggas
And believe me not an accident, so you think I give a fuck
What you say, how you feel
My niggas never tell shit, but a coward will
I used to yap about the Maybach
A real nigga in this industry is like a needle in the hay stack
Fresh deodors, what we got before us
Suckers think they flow sick mind is rigor mortis
I don't know who the fuck ya playing with
Price on ya head could be that bitch ya laying with
That'll take you to ya maker, while I'm in Jamica
Twistin up that Celtic green niggas post like Vin Baker
Work Hard lyrics - The Game (feat. Get Low, JT)
[JT]
Get Low Records motherfucker
Bringin the best to the table
Bluechip, Nina B, {?}, what it is
JT Get Low motherfucker that's what it is motherfucker
Yeah, who fuckin with us nigga
Now (what goes around comes around)
I'm puttin this clique up nigga against all you niggaz
Now get it right
[Verse One: Bluechip]
Hey yo, this is where I see me in this game
Benz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got your bitch all in the Range
And y'all niggaz ain't gon' do shit, soon as your crew spit
My tool spit, metal to your side, watch you lose hips
And I ain't want to take it there but fuck it we can bang
My Cali headbusters'll show you how to throw them things
I'm too connected like John Gotti and Nino
For a small fee they find your body wreakin out in Reno
I know the niggaz that sell weight, and niggaz that stick the niggaz
that sell weight, hammer close behind me like when you tailgate
I know you a snitch, I can see it in your eyes
Shackled up, D.O.C.'s, all my niggaz on that ride
You can, stunt if you wanna, Chip is a gunner
Been reignin/rainin since ninety-six now it's time for the thunder
[Verse Two: Nina B]
In your mind you can blame me but open your mouth and name me
I'm runnin you out of office you're softer than Bush and Cheney
Go 'head, and try to play me I do you like I was Amy Fisher
Smokin a Swisher like I wish a bitch would
Listen and use your vision cause livin in this - hood
And sinnin in your division you think it's all - good
Got niggaz on (Death Row) and it ain't about Suge
Niggaz that stay home they scared to come out shook
Mothers with five kids and all of 'em got took
It's right in these niggaz face, but they just will not look
I'm tired, of the B.S. I'm cheatin {?} some rejects
Even though we make the best of what little respect, we get
This is the life, that was given to me
A rich-ass bitch that's what I'm fittin to be
Brooklyn to Bangkok I'm beggin to be
And don't nobody write, what I'm spittin but me
Nina B
[Chorus: JT]
We 'bout to blow this bitch
Niggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, what
We 'bout to blow this bitch
Niggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, what
Underground with it, poppin collars now
Bust yo' shit nigga, put them guns down
Put yo' knuckles up, catch you slippin dawg
That's how we do it independent now we 'bout to ball
[Verse Three]
For years niggaz sold me dreams that got me gassed
Made me want to get revenge or get the hockey mask
Got beef? Yo the burner's in the lobby stashed
Get your crew if you want, all them niggaz is probably ass
I take the long way, fuck takin the shortcut
Now we got corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour bus
A quick 32, yo them shits is like warmups
It ain't coincidental in the hood we was born tough
You chump or get chumped, punk or get punked
Save your lil' craps homey, fuck it get drunk
Was one at the top, but now I'm back at the bottom
Most 'em hate to spit with me cause when I rap I surprise 'em
Shit is real, that's why I stay strapped with a condom
I keep 31 flavors just like Baskin & Robbins
I'm here now, y'all supposed to be stressed, scared to death
that you gonna be next, record labels, promote the rejects
While starvin artists is closest to sets
And certain niggaz duckin me because they owe me a check
I spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y'all niggaz know the deally
So turn the music up and roll a Philly
[Verse Four: JT]
Yeah, roll the Philly or Swisher Sweet
And I ain't trippin while you niggaz just stand on your feet
Figgaro done walked in the building, it's time to expand
Comin with hundreds of grands and hundreds of plans
You see this Black Wall Street is for the po' broke and hongry
None of my niggaz on the corner never be lonely
Stuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like Tony
Bricks and pounds of weed half the city owe me
My shipment too big, frontin out the homies
I ain't even trippin mayne my pockets never lonely
Benjamin Franklins and Grants stick together like
Boys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh
Yeah mayne, it's real shit nigga and we independent nigga
Fuck what'chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at nigga
Fuck all your major labels nigga, that's what it is
JT the Bigga Figga, Nina B [fades out]
Get Low Records motherfucker
Bringin the best to the table
Bluechip, Nina B, {?}, what it is
JT Get Low motherfucker that's what it is motherfucker
Yeah, who fuckin with us nigga
Now (what goes around comes around)
I'm puttin this clique up nigga against all you niggaz
Now get it right
[Verse One: Bluechip]
Hey yo, this is where I see me in this game
Benz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got your bitch all in the Range
And y'all niggaz ain't gon' do shit, soon as your crew spit
My tool spit, metal to your side, watch you lose hips
And I ain't want to take it there but fuck it we can bang
My Cali headbusters'll show you how to throw them things
I'm too connected like John Gotti and Nino
For a small fee they find your body wreakin out in Reno
I know the niggaz that sell weight, and niggaz that stick the niggaz
that sell weight, hammer close behind me like when you tailgate
I know you a snitch, I can see it in your eyes
Shackled up, D.O.C.'s, all my niggaz on that ride
You can, stunt if you wanna, Chip is a gunner
Been reignin/rainin since ninety-six now it's time for the thunder
[Verse Two: Nina B]
In your mind you can blame me but open your mouth and name me
I'm runnin you out of office you're softer than Bush and Cheney
Go 'head, and try to play me I do you like I was Amy Fisher
Smokin a Swisher like I wish a bitch would
Listen and use your vision cause livin in this - hood
And sinnin in your division you think it's all - good
Got niggaz on (Death Row) and it ain't about Suge
Niggaz that stay home they scared to come out shook
Mothers with five kids and all of 'em got took
It's right in these niggaz face, but they just will not look
I'm tired, of the B.S. I'm cheatin {?} some rejects
Even though we make the best of what little respect, we get
This is the life, that was given to me
A rich-ass bitch that's what I'm fittin to be
Brooklyn to Bangkok I'm beggin to be
And don't nobody write, what I'm spittin but me
Nina B
[Chorus: JT]
We 'bout to blow this bitch
Niggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, what
We 'bout to blow this bitch
Niggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, what
Underground with it, poppin collars now
Bust yo' shit nigga, put them guns down
Put yo' knuckles up, catch you slippin dawg
That's how we do it independent now we 'bout to ball
[Verse Three]
For years niggaz sold me dreams that got me gassed
Made me want to get revenge or get the hockey mask
Got beef? Yo the burner's in the lobby stashed
Get your crew if you want, all them niggaz is probably ass
I take the long way, fuck takin the shortcut
Now we got corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour bus
A quick 32, yo them shits is like warmups
It ain't coincidental in the hood we was born tough
You chump or get chumped, punk or get punked
Save your lil' craps homey, fuck it get drunk
Was one at the top, but now I'm back at the bottom
Most 'em hate to spit with me cause when I rap I surprise 'em
Shit is real, that's why I stay strapped with a condom
I keep 31 flavors just like Baskin & Robbins
I'm here now, y'all supposed to be stressed, scared to death
that you gonna be next, record labels, promote the rejects
While starvin artists is closest to sets
And certain niggaz duckin me because they owe me a check
I spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y'all niggaz know the deally
So turn the music up and roll a Philly
[Verse Four: JT]
Yeah, roll the Philly or Swisher Sweet
And I ain't trippin while you niggaz just stand on your feet
Figgaro done walked in the building, it's time to expand
Comin with hundreds of grands and hundreds of plans
You see this Black Wall Street is for the po' broke and hongry
None of my niggaz on the corner never be lonely
Stuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like Tony
Bricks and pounds of weed half the city owe me
My shipment too big, frontin out the homies
I ain't even trippin mayne my pockets never lonely
Benjamin Franklins and Grants stick together like
Boys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh
Yeah mayne, it's real shit nigga and we independent nigga
Fuck what'chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at nigga
Fuck all your major labels nigga, that's what it is
JT the Bigga Figga, Nina B [fades out]
Untold Story lyrics - The Game (feat. JT)
[The Game]
Niggaz don't really want it, just talkin out the side of they neck
How many gangsters you know, ain't scared of death
That's why I, ride with tecs, soon as I pull 'em out
breathe easy nigga they tryin to get them bullets out
It was all good a week ago, you was callin shots in the hood
Bitch now you so {?} the hood
Used to be a gang leader, now your gang need ya
But no more rocks or dope spots in the hood
Ghost town, niggaz won't even walk in your hood
I want respect like when niggaz is talkin to Suge
You cats gon' get with that, or get with the +Mac+
And I ain't talkin 'bout +Beans+, talkin 'bout this gat
The kid still a hundred miles and runnin
Niggaz smoke 10 boxes of Newports, when they know I'm comin
And fuck MTV, I live in +The Real World+
Call my guns R. Kelly, they'll touch your lil' girl, cause
[Chorus 2X: JT]
Layin with dogs, you gon' wake up with fleas
Fuckin with rats, you'll never get yo' cheese
You know J cats, like to sell you dreams
And a snake gon' scheme (and a killa will do anything)
[JT]
It's a done deal, Seth's back, makin it hot
No questions, I'm takin my spot
Project walls, hoods and blocks, Get Low, we hard to stop
JT, and the Game is hot
It's so necessary, these dudes are so scary
When I cruise through Bentley Coupe that's cherry
Tailored suits and gators, man, laughin at these haters
Man, show me the money then, pay me man
It's a new day, same team, I'm still the ghost
Big crib, jet skis and boats, listen close take notes
Mink coats and diamond clusters
West coast we nothin but hustlers
We grimy and gritty, cool like dat, old school fools
Willy Ness throwbacks, we send tricks to the nearest track
Who you know that's as real as that?
I pimp this game like Goldie the Mac, holla back
[Chorus]
Niggaz don't really want it, just talkin out the side of they neck
How many gangsters you know, ain't scared of death
That's why I, ride with tecs, soon as I pull 'em out
breathe easy nigga they tryin to get them bullets out
It was all good a week ago, you was callin shots in the hood
Bitch now you so {?} the hood
Used to be a gang leader, now your gang need ya
But no more rocks or dope spots in the hood
Ghost town, niggaz won't even walk in your hood
I want respect like when niggaz is talkin to Suge
You cats gon' get with that, or get with the +Mac+
And I ain't talkin 'bout +Beans+, talkin 'bout this gat
The kid still a hundred miles and runnin
Niggaz smoke 10 boxes of Newports, when they know I'm comin
And fuck MTV, I live in +The Real World+
Call my guns R. Kelly, they'll touch your lil' girl, cause
[Chorus 2X: JT]
Layin with dogs, you gon' wake up with fleas
Fuckin with rats, you'll never get yo' cheese
You know J cats, like to sell you dreams
And a snake gon' scheme (and a killa will do anything)
[JT]
It's a done deal, Seth's back, makin it hot
No questions, I'm takin my spot
Project walls, hoods and blocks, Get Low, we hard to stop
JT, and the Game is hot
It's so necessary, these dudes are so scary
When I cruise through Bentley Coupe that's cherry
Tailored suits and gators, man, laughin at these haters
Man, show me the money then, pay me man
It's a new day, same team, I'm still the ghost
Big crib, jet skis and boats, listen close take notes
Mink coats and diamond clusters
West coast we nothin but hustlers
We grimy and gritty, cool like dat, old school fools
Willy Ness throwbacks, we send tricks to the nearest track
Who you know that's as real as that?
I pimp this game like Goldie the Mac, holla back
[Chorus]
Intro lyrics - The Game
("The Documentary" Version)
[A Man]
Alot of people are advocated that the rich gets richer and the poor gets poorer.
Thats only because you dont understand
whats going to happen to you, you see its all just a game ladies and gentlemen,
and the quality of your living depends entirely upon your ability to play the game,
and i play the game.......
[A Man]
Alot of people are advocated that the rich gets richer and the poor gets poorer.
Thats only because you dont understand
whats going to happen to you, you see its all just a game ladies and gentlemen,
and the quality of your living depends entirely upon your ability to play the game,
and i play the game.......
Westside Story lyrics - The Game (feat. 50 Cent)
[Verse 1]
Crip niggas, Blood niggas, S.A.'s, Asians,
Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, White Boys, Jamaicans,
Latin Kings, Disciples, Vicelords, Hatians,
All these mother fuckers been patiently waiting,
Since the west coast fell off the streets been watching,
The west coast never fell off I was asleep in Compton,
Aftermath been here the beats been knocking,
Nate Dogg doing his thing DPG still poppin,
I got California love fucking bitches to that Pac shit,
And westside connection been had it locked bitch,
I'm in the rear view my guns is cocking,
I'll put red dots on that nigga head like rodman,
All stars, phat laces, gun charge, court cases,
Fought that, not guilty I'm back,
Niggas hate me been there, done that, sold crack,
Got jacked, got shot, came back jumped on Dre's back, payback,
Homie I'll bring your CA back,
And I don't do button up shirts or drive Maybacks,
All u old record labels trying to advance,
Aftermath bitch take it like a motherfucking man,
[chorus x2]
If you take a look in my eyes,
You see I'll be a gangster till I die,
That California chronic got me so high,
Game tell them where your from,
Nigga westside!
[Verse 2]
I'm lowridin homie, 6 Tre impala,
Gold d spinning, chrome hydraulics
Run up on my low-low you stop breathing,
Hollow tips make niggas disappear like Houdini,
Gang banging is real,
Homie I'm living proof like Snoop Dogg C-Walking on top of the devils roof,
Rap critics wanna converse, about this and that,
Cause red strings in this converse and this a Dre track,
Keep jibberin jabbering I'll pull a .38 magnum,
And get the clicking and clacking,
You'll homies will wanna know what happened,
Come to Compton and see thriller like Mike Jackson,
I might be Spike Lee, of this gun clapping,
Prior to rapping I was drug trafficin
In the dope spot playing John Madden,
Homie I ain't bragging, I took five,
If u wanna die run up on that black 745
[chorus x2]
[Verse 3]
New York New York, big city of dreams,
I got my L.A Dodger fitted on I'm doing my thing,
Got me fucking wit G-Unit you know the drama that bring,
I got niggas in Westside Compton and Southside Queens,
And Buck told me in Cashville I'm good when I come through,
So I don't gotta tuck in my chain like DJ Poo,
I'm gangster more like Deebo when he was Zeus,
Play bishop I paint that picture now who got the juice,
You niggas is nuts so, I take off your roof,
Leave your ass steched out like a Cadillac Coupe,
God gotta let me in heaven all the shit I been through,
I was an OG in the hood before I turned 22,
Homie I'll let the .38 special rip through that vest,
And I don't contemplate whether or not he left that shit on the dresser,
Got Compton on my back,
I'm starting to feel the pressure,
I'm lyrically Kool G. Rap on these Dre Records
[chorus x2]
Crip niggas, Blood niggas, S.A.'s, Asians,
Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, White Boys, Jamaicans,
Latin Kings, Disciples, Vicelords, Hatians,
All these mother fuckers been patiently waiting,
Since the west coast fell off the streets been watching,
The west coast never fell off I was asleep in Compton,
Aftermath been here the beats been knocking,
Nate Dogg doing his thing DPG still poppin,
I got California love fucking bitches to that Pac shit,
And westside connection been had it locked bitch,
I'm in the rear view my guns is cocking,
I'll put red dots on that nigga head like rodman,
All stars, phat laces, gun charge, court cases,
Fought that, not guilty I'm back,
Niggas hate me been there, done that, sold crack,
Got jacked, got shot, came back jumped on Dre's back, payback,
Homie I'll bring your CA back,
And I don't do button up shirts or drive Maybacks,
All u old record labels trying to advance,
Aftermath bitch take it like a motherfucking man,
[chorus x2]
If you take a look in my eyes,
You see I'll be a gangster till I die,
That California chronic got me so high,
Game tell them where your from,
Nigga westside!
[Verse 2]
I'm lowridin homie, 6 Tre impala,
Gold d spinning, chrome hydraulics
Run up on my low-low you stop breathing,
Hollow tips make niggas disappear like Houdini,
Gang banging is real,
Homie I'm living proof like Snoop Dogg C-Walking on top of the devils roof,
Rap critics wanna converse, about this and that,
Cause red strings in this converse and this a Dre track,
Keep jibberin jabbering I'll pull a .38 magnum,
And get the clicking and clacking,
You'll homies will wanna know what happened,
Come to Compton and see thriller like Mike Jackson,
I might be Spike Lee, of this gun clapping,
Prior to rapping I was drug trafficin
In the dope spot playing John Madden,
Homie I ain't bragging, I took five,
If u wanna die run up on that black 745
[chorus x2]
[Verse 3]
New York New York, big city of dreams,
I got my L.A Dodger fitted on I'm doing my thing,
Got me fucking wit G-Unit you know the drama that bring,
I got niggas in Westside Compton and Southside Queens,
And Buck told me in Cashville I'm good when I come through,
So I don't gotta tuck in my chain like DJ Poo,
I'm gangster more like Deebo when he was Zeus,
Play bishop I paint that picture now who got the juice,
You niggas is nuts so, I take off your roof,
Leave your ass steched out like a Cadillac Coupe,
God gotta let me in heaven all the shit I been through,
I was an OG in the hood before I turned 22,
Homie I'll let the .38 special rip through that vest,
And I don't contemplate whether or not he left that shit on the dresser,
Got Compton on my back,
I'm starting to feel the pressure,
I'm lyrically Kool G. Rap on these Dre Records
[chorus x2]
Dreams lyrics - The Game
[Verse 1]
I woke up out dat coma, 2000 and 1
Bout the same time Dre dropped 2000 and 1
Three years later the album is done
Aftermath presents: Nigga Witta Attitude Volume 1
Rap critics politicin
Wanna know the outcome!
Ready to die, Reasonable Doubt and Doggystyle in one
I feel like Pac, after the Snoop Dogg trial was done
Dre behind the G-Series and All Eyez On Me
I watched the death of a dynasty!
So I told Vibe Magazine
Workin' with Dr.Dre was a "DREAM!"
I had visions of makin' a classic
Then my wall turned black,like I was starin outa Stevie Wonders glasses
It's kinda hard to imagine,like Kanye West
Comin back from a fatal accident, to beat makin' and rappin'
But, we da future
Whitney Houston told me that, it's gon take mo' than a bullet in a heart to hold me back
[Hook]
Blushin' in this 40 ounce
Lettin the ink from my pen bleed
Cuz Marthin Luther King had a "DREAM!"
Aaliyah had a "DREAM!"
Left Eye had a "DREAM!"
So I reached out to Kanye and "brough you all my dreeam!"
[Sample playin "It's cuz I love you!"]
[Verse 2]
I had dreams of fuckin' an R'n'B bitch like Mya
When I saw dat ass on a front of that King
Read the article in a magazine
She loved gangsters, loved nasty things
So I'm the glass house havin' nasty dreams!
Good girls neva' give it up
But anything is possible ,if 50 fucked Vivica
Hurdled life's obstacles,found my way through the maze
Then joy turned to pain like, Frankie Beverly and Maze
Used to dream about bein' Unsigned Hype
Till I was crushed my Dave Mase, almost let my pen fall asleep on a page
Daydreamin' yesterday
Dozin' on offback stage
I tought I saw Eazy talkin' to Jam Master Jay
So I walked over heard Jam Master say
It's a hardknock life, then you pass away
They say sleep is the cousin' of death
So my eyes wide open cuz a dream is kin to ya last breath
[Hook]
Blushin' in this 40 ounce
Lettin' the ink from my pen bleed
Cuz Marthin Luther King had a "DREAM!"
Aalyah had a "DREAM!"
Left Eye had a "DREAM!"
So I reached out to Kanye and "brought you all my dream!"
[Sample playin "It's cuz I love you!"]
[Verse 3]
The Dream of Huey Newton, that's what I'm livin' through
The Dream of Eric Wright, that's what I'm givin' you!
Who walk through the Whitehouse without a business suit?
Compton had Jerry Curl drippin' on Ronald Reagens shoes
Gave Mike Lim my demo came here to pay my dues
Started of with Whoo Kid then I started blazin' Clue
It was all a Dream like BIG said it be
Don't sleep on me homie I bring nightmares to reality
Rap Phenomenon defyin' the rulez of gravity
Studied all the classic start revisin my strategy
Cuz Marshall Mathers made it
Curtis Jackson made it
Head in the clouds wonderin where the hell Marvin Gaye went?
How do I say this, I'm livin' for my son but I can't figure, why I'm at my temple with this gun
Wake up to a Jesus Piece like a Cathlic Nun
The War to be a rap legend has just begun
[Hook]
Blushin' in this 40 ounce
Lettin' the ink from my pen bleed
Cuz Marthin Luther King had a "DREAM!"
Aalyah had a "DREAM!"
Left Eye had a "DREAM!"
So I reached out to Kanye and "you are my dreeam!"
[Sample playin "It's cuz I love you!"]
[At the end GAME talking:]
This song is dedicated to Yutandey Price the sister of Venus and Serena Williams who was slain
during a gang shoot-out in Compton, Sunday September 14th 2003, Rest in peace!
I woke up out dat coma, 2000 and 1
Bout the same time Dre dropped 2000 and 1
Three years later the album is done
Aftermath presents: Nigga Witta Attitude Volume 1
Rap critics politicin
Wanna know the outcome!
Ready to die, Reasonable Doubt and Doggystyle in one
I feel like Pac, after the Snoop Dogg trial was done
Dre behind the G-Series and All Eyez On Me
I watched the death of a dynasty!
So I told Vibe Magazine
Workin' with Dr.Dre was a "DREAM!"
I had visions of makin' a classic
Then my wall turned black,like I was starin outa Stevie Wonders glasses
It's kinda hard to imagine,like Kanye West
Comin back from a fatal accident, to beat makin' and rappin'
But, we da future
Whitney Houston told me that, it's gon take mo' than a bullet in a heart to hold me back
[Hook]
Blushin' in this 40 ounce
Lettin the ink from my pen bleed
Cuz Marthin Luther King had a "DREAM!"
Aaliyah had a "DREAM!"
Left Eye had a "DREAM!"
So I reached out to Kanye and "brough you all my dreeam!"
[Sample playin "It's cuz I love you!"]
[Verse 2]
I had dreams of fuckin' an R'n'B bitch like Mya
When I saw dat ass on a front of that King
Read the article in a magazine
She loved gangsters, loved nasty things
So I'm the glass house havin' nasty dreams!
Good girls neva' give it up
But anything is possible ,if 50 fucked Vivica
Hurdled life's obstacles,found my way through the maze
Then joy turned to pain like, Frankie Beverly and Maze
Used to dream about bein' Unsigned Hype
Till I was crushed my Dave Mase, almost let my pen fall asleep on a page
Daydreamin' yesterday
Dozin' on offback stage
I tought I saw Eazy talkin' to Jam Master Jay
So I walked over heard Jam Master say
It's a hardknock life, then you pass away
They say sleep is the cousin' of death
So my eyes wide open cuz a dream is kin to ya last breath
[Hook]
Blushin' in this 40 ounce
Lettin' the ink from my pen bleed
Cuz Marthin Luther King had a "DREAM!"
Aalyah had a "DREAM!"
Left Eye had a "DREAM!"
So I reached out to Kanye and "brought you all my dream!"
[Sample playin "It's cuz I love you!"]
[Verse 3]
The Dream of Huey Newton, that's what I'm livin' through
The Dream of Eric Wright, that's what I'm givin' you!
Who walk through the Whitehouse without a business suit?
Compton had Jerry Curl drippin' on Ronald Reagens shoes
Gave Mike Lim my demo came here to pay my dues
Started of with Whoo Kid then I started blazin' Clue
It was all a Dream like BIG said it be
Don't sleep on me homie I bring nightmares to reality
Rap Phenomenon defyin' the rulez of gravity
Studied all the classic start revisin my strategy
Cuz Marshall Mathers made it
Curtis Jackson made it
Head in the clouds wonderin where the hell Marvin Gaye went?
How do I say this, I'm livin' for my son but I can't figure, why I'm at my temple with this gun
Wake up to a Jesus Piece like a Cathlic Nun
The War to be a rap legend has just begun
[Hook]
Blushin' in this 40 ounce
Lettin' the ink from my pen bleed
Cuz Marthin Luther King had a "DREAM!"
Aalyah had a "DREAM!"
Left Eye had a "DREAM!"
So I reached out to Kanye and "you are my dreeam!"
[Sample playin "It's cuz I love you!"]
[At the end GAME talking:]
This song is dedicated to Yutandey Price the sister of Venus and Serena Williams who was slain
during a gang shoot-out in Compton, Sunday September 14th 2003, Rest in peace!
Hate It Or Love It lyrics - The Game
[50 Cent]
Ya, let's take em back
Uh huh
Comin up I was confused my momma kissin a girl
Confusion occurs comin up in the cold world
Daddy ain't around probably out commitin felonies
My favorite rapper used to sing ch-check out my melody
I wanna live good, so shit I sell dope for a fo-finger ring
One of them gold ropes
NaNa told me if I pass could get a sheep skin coat
If I can move a few packs and get the hat, now that'd be dope
Tossed and turned in my sleep that night
Woke up the next morning niggas done stole my bike
Different day same shit, ain't nothing good in the hood
I'd run away from this bitch and never come back if I could
[Chorus (50 then Game):]
Hate it or love it the underdog's on top
And I'm gonna shine homie until my heart stop
Go head' envy me
I'm raps MVP
And I ain't goin nowhere so you can get to know me
Hate it or love it the underdog's on top
And I'm gonna shine homie until my heart stop
Go head' envy me
I'm raps MVP
And I ain't goin nowhere so you can get to know me
[Game]
On the grill of my lowrider
Guns on both sides right above the gold wires
I'll fo-five em
Kill a nigga on my song but really do it
Thats the true meaning of a ~ghostwriter~
10 g'z will take ya daughter out of Air Forces
Believe you me homie i know all bout losses
I'm from Compton where the wrong colors be cautious
One phone call will have ya body dumped in Marcy
I stay strapped like car seats
Been bangin since my lil nigga Rob got killed for his Barkley's
That's 10 years I told Pooh in 95' I'd kill you if you try me for my Air Max 95s
Told Banks when i met him imma ride
And if I gotta die rather homicide
I ain't have 50 Cent when my Grandmomma died
Now i'm goin back to Cali with my Jacob on
See how time fly?
[Chorus - 50 Cent]
From the beginnin to the end
Losers lose, winners win
This is real we ain't got to pretend
The cold world that we in
Is full of pressure and pain
Enough of me nigga now listen to Game
[Game]
Used to see 5-0 throw the crack by the bench
Now i'm fuckin with ~5-0~ it's all startin to make ~sense~
My moms happy she ain't gotta pay the rent
And she got a red bow on that brand new Benz
Waitin on Sha Money to land sittin in the Range
Thinkin how they spend 30 million dollars on airplanes
When there's kids starvin
Pac is gone and Brendas still throwin babies in the garbage
I wanna know what's goin on like i hear Marvin
No school books they use that wood to build coffins
Whenever I'm in the booth and i get exhausted
I think what if Marie Banker got that abortion
I love ya Ma'
[Chorus X2]
Ya, let's take em back
Uh huh
Comin up I was confused my momma kissin a girl
Confusion occurs comin up in the cold world
Daddy ain't around probably out commitin felonies
My favorite rapper used to sing ch-check out my melody
I wanna live good, so shit I sell dope for a fo-finger ring
One of them gold ropes
NaNa told me if I pass could get a sheep skin coat
If I can move a few packs and get the hat, now that'd be dope
Tossed and turned in my sleep that night
Woke up the next morning niggas done stole my bike
Different day same shit, ain't nothing good in the hood
I'd run away from this bitch and never come back if I could
[Chorus (50 then Game):]
Hate it or love it the underdog's on top
And I'm gonna shine homie until my heart stop
Go head' envy me
I'm raps MVP
And I ain't goin nowhere so you can get to know me
Hate it or love it the underdog's on top
And I'm gonna shine homie until my heart stop
Go head' envy me
I'm raps MVP
And I ain't goin nowhere so you can get to know me
[Game]
On the grill of my lowrider
Guns on both sides right above the gold wires
I'll fo-five em
Kill a nigga on my song but really do it
Thats the true meaning of a ~ghostwriter~
10 g'z will take ya daughter out of Air Forces
Believe you me homie i know all bout losses
I'm from Compton where the wrong colors be cautious
One phone call will have ya body dumped in Marcy
I stay strapped like car seats
Been bangin since my lil nigga Rob got killed for his Barkley's
That's 10 years I told Pooh in 95' I'd kill you if you try me for my Air Max 95s
Told Banks when i met him imma ride
And if I gotta die rather homicide
I ain't have 50 Cent when my Grandmomma died
Now i'm goin back to Cali with my Jacob on
See how time fly?
[Chorus - 50 Cent]
From the beginnin to the end
Losers lose, winners win
This is real we ain't got to pretend
The cold world that we in
Is full of pressure and pain
Enough of me nigga now listen to Game
[Game]
Used to see 5-0 throw the crack by the bench
Now i'm fuckin with ~5-0~ it's all startin to make ~sense~
My moms happy she ain't gotta pay the rent
And she got a red bow on that brand new Benz
Waitin on Sha Money to land sittin in the Range
Thinkin how they spend 30 million dollars on airplanes
When there's kids starvin
Pac is gone and Brendas still throwin babies in the garbage
I wanna know what's goin on like i hear Marvin
No school books they use that wood to build coffins
Whenever I'm in the booth and i get exhausted
I think what if Marie Banker got that abortion
I love ya Ma'
[Chorus X2]
Higher lyrics - The Game
It's that, it's that, it's that, it's that... chronic, chronic, chronic, chronic
It's that, it's that, it's that, it's that... hydrolex, drolex, drolex, drolex
It's that, it's that, it's that, it's that... Westside, Westside, Westside, Westside
It's that, it's that, it's that, it's that... Compton, Compton, Compton, Compton
[Bridge]
It's not that I can't stop, It's that I won't stop, I make it hot (I do it)
I'll be on top, as soon as the beat drop, I'll make the whole club rock (I do it)
[The Game]
Lace my Air Ones up, put my gun up
I don't need that I'm riding wit Dre
Who don't love us, every hood throwin they dubs up
Who the fuck yall thought was comin after Young Buck
hip hops worst nightmare, Mr. Gangsta Rap is back in black nike airs
You want war, we can settle it right here
I got a squad, E-V-E and Busta Rhymes yeah
Or you could give me ya bitch, her with the light hair
Sit her next to these yellow bottles, tea right there
Matter fact I'll take you in the back
you in the hat, and you in the blue and the black
Lets have a gangsta party
Somebody lean over and tell Banks to order another case of fortys
Yo Doc give them a coke with that, wake up the west coast is back
[CHORUS]
(I can take you hiyaaaah)
Show you how that low rider bounce off the flo' - You ain't know?
(I can take you hiyaaaah)
It's the motherfuckin chronic nigga thats whatsup - roll that blunt
(I can take you hiyaaaah)
G-Unit, Shady Aftermath I'm the motherfuckin Game and
(I can take you hiyaaaah)
[Bridge]
[Game + (Snoop Dogg)]
Like Dre did, I created a buzz without a single like N.W.A. did
From the hood -liquor- store to the state pen
This is gin and juice
the doc made the club R.O.C. without timbaland boots
First nigga to put drolex on a bentley coupe
You wanna piimp? I perm my shit up like snoop (Westside)
Chronic 2005 motherfucker, put the purple in the dutch
"Let it Burn" like Usher giirl
Drop down, do the eagle, fuck that
Real niggaz just pull up they pants and lean back giirl
Make 50 spill his cris, he'll call you a bitch
I'ma call you and hit , you can ya girlfriend, we can make it a flick
I got the lollipop if you wanna lick
Or you can take a ride on the magic stick
[CHORUS]
[Bridge]
[Game]
Put 25's on the hummer, why not
I'ma be here for the next 10 summers
Drop me in the 4th quarter I'm fuckin up they money
I don't need sound scan I'm doin my own numbers
When that impala bounce you can see the chrome under
I got em' in every color yea I'm a known stunner
When I hit a switch I get higher than long jumpers
low ridin with a hood rat or a grown woman
And I'll do anything but I won't fuck Mariah
Even if she had Ashanti butt naked in bed
cause she got a forehead just like Tyra
I can say what the fuck I want, you thought Dre retired
Left me in 6-4 his Dayton wires
These niggaz is a waste of rhymin, Doc got somthing to say be quiet
[Dr. Dre]
Look out for Detox
[CHORUS]
[Bridge]
It's that, it's that, it's that, it's that... hydrolex, drolex, drolex, drolex
It's that, it's that, it's that, it's that... Westside, Westside, Westside, Westside
It's that, it's that, it's that, it's that... Compton, Compton, Compton, Compton
[Bridge]
It's not that I can't stop, It's that I won't stop, I make it hot (I do it)
I'll be on top, as soon as the beat drop, I'll make the whole club rock (I do it)
[The Game]
Lace my Air Ones up, put my gun up
I don't need that I'm riding wit Dre
Who don't love us, every hood throwin they dubs up
Who the fuck yall thought was comin after Young Buck
hip hops worst nightmare, Mr. Gangsta Rap is back in black nike airs
You want war, we can settle it right here
I got a squad, E-V-E and Busta Rhymes yeah
Or you could give me ya bitch, her with the light hair
Sit her next to these yellow bottles, tea right there
Matter fact I'll take you in the back
you in the hat, and you in the blue and the black
Lets have a gangsta party
Somebody lean over and tell Banks to order another case of fortys
Yo Doc give them a coke with that, wake up the west coast is back
[CHORUS]
(I can take you hiyaaaah)
Show you how that low rider bounce off the flo' - You ain't know?
(I can take you hiyaaaah)
It's the motherfuckin chronic nigga thats whatsup - roll that blunt
(I can take you hiyaaaah)
G-Unit, Shady Aftermath I'm the motherfuckin Game and
(I can take you hiyaaaah)
[Bridge]
[Game + (Snoop Dogg)]
Like Dre did, I created a buzz without a single like N.W.A. did
From the hood -liquor- store to the state pen
This is gin and juice
the doc made the club R.O.C. without timbaland boots
First nigga to put drolex on a bentley coupe
You wanna piimp? I perm my shit up like snoop (Westside)
Chronic 2005 motherfucker, put the purple in the dutch
"Let it Burn" like Usher giirl
Drop down, do the eagle, fuck that
Real niggaz just pull up they pants and lean back giirl
Make 50 spill his cris, he'll call you a bitch
I'ma call you and hit , you can ya girlfriend, we can make it a flick
I got the lollipop if you wanna lick
Or you can take a ride on the magic stick
[CHORUS]
[Bridge]
[Game]
Put 25's on the hummer, why not
I'ma be here for the next 10 summers
Drop me in the 4th quarter I'm fuckin up they money
I don't need sound scan I'm doin my own numbers
When that impala bounce you can see the chrome under
I got em' in every color yea I'm a known stunner
When I hit a switch I get higher than long jumpers
low ridin with a hood rat or a grown woman
And I'll do anything but I won't fuck Mariah
Even if she had Ashanti butt naked in bed
cause she got a forehead just like Tyra
I can say what the fuck I want, you thought Dre retired
Left me in 6-4 his Dayton wires
These niggaz is a waste of rhymin, Doc got somthing to say be quiet
[Dr. Dre]
Look out for Detox
[CHORUS]
[Bridge]
This Is How We Do (Fresh '83) lyrics - The Game (feat. 50 Cent)
[Hook - 50 Cent]
This is how we do
We make a move and act a fool while we up in the club
This is how we do
Nobody do it like we do it so show us some love
This is how we do
We make a move and act a fool while we up in the club
This is how we do
Nobody do it like we do it so show us some love
[Verse I - Game]
Fresh like, unhh; Impala, unnh
Chrome hydraulics, 808 drums
You don't want, none
Nigga betta, run
When beef is on, I'll pop that, trunk
Come get, some
Pistol grip, pump
If a nigga step on my white Air, Ones
Since red, rum
Ready here I, come
Compton, unh
Dre found me in the, slums
Selling that skunk, one hand on my gun
I was selling rocks when Master P was saying "Unnnh"
Buck pass the blunt
These G-Unit girls just wanna have, fun
Coke and rum
Got weed on the ton
I'm banging with my hand up her dress like, unh
I'll make her cum, purple haze in my lungs
Whole gang in the front in case a nigga wanna, stunt
[Verse II - 50 Cent]
I put Lamborghini doors on that Es-ca-lade
Low pro's so low look like I'm riding on blades
In one year mang, a nigga's so paid
I have a straight bitch in the telly going both ways (Ah!)
Touch me, tease me, kiss me, please me
I give it to ya just how you like it, girl
You know I'm rocking with the best tre pound on my hip
Teflon on my chest
They say I'm no good
Cause I'm so hood
Rich folks do not want me around
Cause shit might pop off, and if shit pop off
Somebody gon' get laid the fuck out
They call me new money, say I have no class
I'm from the bottom, I came up too fast
The hell if I care, I'm just here to get my cash
Bougie ass bitches, you can kiss my ass
[Hook]
[Verse III - Game]
I put gold Daytonas on that Cherry Six-Four
White walls so clean it's like I'm riding on vogues
Hit one switch mang, that ass so low
Cali got niggaz in New York riding on hundred spokes
Touch me, tease me, kiss me, please me
I give it to ya just how you like it, girl
You know I'm rocking with the best fo' pound on my hip
Gold chain on my chest (Ah!)
[Verse IV - Game and 50 Cent]
[50 Cent]
50, unh
Bentley, unh
Em came 'n gotta nigga fresh out the, slum
Automatic, gun
Fuck 'em one-on-one
We wrap up ya punk ass, stunt 'n ya done
Homie, it's Game time
[Game]
You ready? Here I come
Call Lloyd Banks and get this motherfucker, crunk
It took two, months
But Fifty got it done
Signed with G-unit
Had niggaz like, "huh?"
Don't try to front
I'll leave yo' ass, slumped
Thinking I'm a punk
Get your fucking head, lumped
Fifty got a, gun
[50 Cent]
Ready here he come
Gotta sick, vendetta
To get this, chedda
Meet my Ba, Retta
The dra-ma, setta
Sip Am-a, retta
My flow sounds, betta
Than average
On tracks I'm a savage
I damage
Any nigga tryin' to front on my clique (G-Unit!)
This is how we do
We make a move and act a fool while we up in the club
This is how we do
Nobody do it like we do it so show us some love
This is how we do
We make a move and act a fool while we up in the club
This is how we do
Nobody do it like we do it so show us some love
[Verse I - Game]
Fresh like, unhh; Impala, unnh
Chrome hydraulics, 808 drums
You don't want, none
Nigga betta, run
When beef is on, I'll pop that, trunk
Come get, some
Pistol grip, pump
If a nigga step on my white Air, Ones
Since red, rum
Ready here I, come
Compton, unh
Dre found me in the, slums
Selling that skunk, one hand on my gun
I was selling rocks when Master P was saying "Unnnh"
Buck pass the blunt
These G-Unit girls just wanna have, fun
Coke and rum
Got weed on the ton
I'm banging with my hand up her dress like, unh
I'll make her cum, purple haze in my lungs
Whole gang in the front in case a nigga wanna, stunt
[Verse II - 50 Cent]
I put Lamborghini doors on that Es-ca-lade
Low pro's so low look like I'm riding on blades
In one year mang, a nigga's so paid
I have a straight bitch in the telly going both ways (Ah!)
Touch me, tease me, kiss me, please me
I give it to ya just how you like it, girl
You know I'm rocking with the best tre pound on my hip
Teflon on my chest
They say I'm no good
Cause I'm so hood
Rich folks do not want me around
Cause shit might pop off, and if shit pop off
Somebody gon' get laid the fuck out
They call me new money, say I have no class
I'm from the bottom, I came up too fast
The hell if I care, I'm just here to get my cash
Bougie ass bitches, you can kiss my ass
[Hook]
[Verse III - Game]
I put gold Daytonas on that Cherry Six-Four
White walls so clean it's like I'm riding on vogues
Hit one switch mang, that ass so low
Cali got niggaz in New York riding on hundred spokes
Touch me, tease me, kiss me, please me
I give it to ya just how you like it, girl
You know I'm rocking with the best fo' pound on my hip
Gold chain on my chest (Ah!)
[Verse IV - Game and 50 Cent]
[50 Cent]
50, unh
Bentley, unh
Em came 'n gotta nigga fresh out the, slum
Automatic, gun
Fuck 'em one-on-one
We wrap up ya punk ass, stunt 'n ya done
Homie, it's Game time
[Game]
You ready? Here I come
Call Lloyd Banks and get this motherfucker, crunk
It took two, months
But Fifty got it done
Signed with G-unit
Had niggaz like, "huh?"
Don't try to front
I'll leave yo' ass, slumped
Thinking I'm a punk
Get your fucking head, lumped
Fifty got a, gun
[50 Cent]
Ready here he come
Gotta sick, vendetta
To get this, chedda
Meet my Ba, Retta
The dra-ma, setta
Sip Am-a, retta
My flow sounds, betta
Than average
On tracks I'm a savage
I damage
Any nigga tryin' to front on my clique (G-Unit!)
Don't Need Your Love lyrics - The Game (feat. Faith Evans)
[The Game]
Yo Havoc, I'm too close to the edge on this one nigga
I ain't gon' jump though, I'ma keep it raw gutter
Yo Prodigy, you know I need you on this one nigga
[The Game]
I got shit on my chest, I must confess
Last night I was the nigga that shot up your projects
Now I'm back in the hood, with rocks in the Pyrex
Tan khakis and them Nike Airs with the dyed checks
I was forced to live this life, forced to bust my chrome
My pops left me in a foster home
I felt abandoned like Quik now that Mausberg gone
So I don't hop in the SS without the Mossberg homes
I've been rappin for a year and a half, my life is real
Put the gun in his mouth, he gon' bite the steel
Come to Compton, I got stripes for real
Before Dre, before the ice, before the deal - I was almost killed
Like 'Pac before the Death Row deal
I got shot over two pounds of weed, still ain't found them niggaz
But karma come quicker for a nigga on the other side of the gun
That's somethin I gotta teach my son
[Chorus: Faith Evans]
I don't need your love, no no no no
I don't need your love
Need it, I don't want it, I don't need it
I don't need your love, no I don't need your love
I don't need your love
Cause, the, game, don't, change
[The Game]
I heard they got Bloods in New York now
Red rags in Uptown Harlem now, I need that love
Front court at the Knicks game, new chick, French name
New car, new house, and sometimes friends change
And you don't need that love, when you G's like us
And your Jesus piece is sim-u-lar to Biggie's
And your life story is sim-u-lar to 50's
First they hate you, then they love you, then they hate you again
What the fuck do it take for a gangsta to win?
No mics, no +Unsigned Hype+, nigga *FUCK* The Source
Plus them awards I don't need
And them niggaz breathin the same air as me, actin like they don't bleed
We don't drive the same speed, this a Continental T
That's a case of Armadale, this a continental suite
So I'ma drown in my own sorrows
Live life, fuck tomorrow, nigga cause reality is
[Chorus w/ variations + ad libs]
[The Game]
I was gassed up, Murder Inc., Roc-A-Fella passed up
Sat in Daddy's House with Black Rob and Lou and asked Puff
Now The Game set in stone, the Frank Muniz set in stones
Dre cut me a check, I'm gone
Tryin to be the king of the streets, niggaz'll wet your throne
But I got nieces to feed, two coasts to please
So I roam through the city like the ghost of E
Gotta put Compton back where it's 'sposed to be
Nuttin between all my niggaz that's close to me
In the streets with two fellas packin toast for me
I'm 'posed to be, got all the critics watchin my pivot
On my block in the Coupe readin kites from prison
I got niggaz doin life in prison
All my fallen soldiers is one of the reasons we pour out liquor
So this song is for Ms. Wallace, Afeni Shakur
And all the mothers of dead sons that went out in the war
[Chorus - 2X w/ variations + ad libs]
Yo Havoc, I'm too close to the edge on this one nigga
I ain't gon' jump though, I'ma keep it raw gutter
Yo Prodigy, you know I need you on this one nigga
[The Game]
I got shit on my chest, I must confess
Last night I was the nigga that shot up your projects
Now I'm back in the hood, with rocks in the Pyrex
Tan khakis and them Nike Airs with the dyed checks
I was forced to live this life, forced to bust my chrome
My pops left me in a foster home
I felt abandoned like Quik now that Mausberg gone
So I don't hop in the SS without the Mossberg homes
I've been rappin for a year and a half, my life is real
Put the gun in his mouth, he gon' bite the steel
Come to Compton, I got stripes for real
Before Dre, before the ice, before the deal - I was almost killed
Like 'Pac before the Death Row deal
I got shot over two pounds of weed, still ain't found them niggaz
But karma come quicker for a nigga on the other side of the gun
That's somethin I gotta teach my son
[Chorus: Faith Evans]
I don't need your love, no no no no
I don't need your love
Need it, I don't want it, I don't need it
I don't need your love, no I don't need your love
I don't need your love
Cause, the, game, don't, change
[The Game]
I heard they got Bloods in New York now
Red rags in Uptown Harlem now, I need that love
Front court at the Knicks game, new chick, French name
New car, new house, and sometimes friends change
And you don't need that love, when you G's like us
And your Jesus piece is sim-u-lar to Biggie's
And your life story is sim-u-lar to 50's
First they hate you, then they love you, then they hate you again
What the fuck do it take for a gangsta to win?
No mics, no +Unsigned Hype+, nigga *FUCK* The Source
Plus them awards I don't need
And them niggaz breathin the same air as me, actin like they don't bleed
We don't drive the same speed, this a Continental T
That's a case of Armadale, this a continental suite
So I'ma drown in my own sorrows
Live life, fuck tomorrow, nigga cause reality is
[Chorus w/ variations + ad libs]
[The Game]
I was gassed up, Murder Inc., Roc-A-Fella passed up
Sat in Daddy's House with Black Rob and Lou and asked Puff
Now The Game set in stone, the Frank Muniz set in stones
Dre cut me a check, I'm gone
Tryin to be the king of the streets, niggaz'll wet your throne
But I got nieces to feed, two coasts to please
So I roam through the city like the ghost of E
Gotta put Compton back where it's 'sposed to be
Nuttin between all my niggaz that's close to me
In the streets with two fellas packin toast for me
I'm 'posed to be, got all the critics watchin my pivot
On my block in the Coupe readin kites from prison
I got niggaz doin life in prison
All my fallen soldiers is one of the reasons we pour out liquor
So this song is for Ms. Wallace, Afeni Shakur
And all the mothers of dead sons that went out in the war
[Chorus - 2X w/ variations + ad libs]
Church For Thugs lyrics - The Game
[Verse 1]
To all my niggas on the porch getting their hair braided
Corn rolled by a L.A. bitch
And I can't forget
My niggas riding the train Yankee fitted
Thermals under that Pelle shit
I love New York but gangbanging that's L.A. shit
And I'm proud of it
Spit it through the wire so the crowd love it
Haters you know who you are you can turn it down fuck it
I can shoot a video to it and spend half the budget
I'm gangsta, let the .40 cal blow in public
More hatred inside my soul than Pac had for Delores Tucker
Every time one of my niggas get shot the more I suffer
Cause we trapped inside a world where your forced to die for your colors
I seen it all through the Range tints
Got niggas doing life in the state pen
So I dread like Jamaicans
If I die for one of my statements
Than break up the streets of Compton and spill my blood in the pavement
[Hook]
Believe me niggas keep sayin they gon heat me up
Talking that shit like they goin lay me down
And then I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't want no parts of me pal
Niggas keep sayin they gon heat me up
Talking that shit like they goin lay me down
And then I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't know parts of me pal
[Verse 2]
Who I gotta talk to who I gotta write
Get my Reebok deal done
Or I'm stayin' in Air Nike's
Aiight, I handle bars you ain't gotta ride a bike
To peep game and his skill here go some training wheels
Let's roll
Through the city of god
Where LA niggas train to kill
Chop you up hundred times worse than the Haitians will
For real naw Pharrell I need a track homie
Dre we to close aint no turning back homie
Deal with it I'm a be here for ten years
Spittin like the ghost of Eric Wright and Big yeah
Let me paint this picture
While you sit here thinking in the back of your mind this is the shit yeah
I spit for you niggas doing 25 on they 5th year ready to throw a nigga off the 5th tier
Them white boys in the Abercrombie and Fitch gear
And every nigga who ever helped me get here
[Hook]
Believe me niggas keep sayin they gon heat me up
Talking that shit like they gon lay me down
And when I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't want no parts of me pal
Niggas keep sayin they gon heat me up
Talking that shit like they gon lay me down
And when I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't know parts of me pal
[Verse 3]
One brick, two brick
The boy moving weight
Now three bricks, four bricks
I'm driving upstate
Five Bricks, six bricks
The nigga got cake
Not rap money, but money been rap since ‘88
Look at the world we live in
Niggas steady hate, to the heckler at Koch
Leave him chopped up like freddy's face
Niggas catching feelings
Cause I'm about millions
And outta all the newcomers out, my flow's the illest
You a close second nigga,
A banana to a guerilla
Put us in the same cage and I'ma have to peel ‘em
The best of both worlds
Rapping and drug dealing
Run and tell the chief I came to burn down the village
The head honcho, staring out the third story window
Of my Beverly Hills condo
With two long ass heats
I call ‘em Shaq and Alonzo
You niggas want me outta L.A.
Yeah I know
[Hook]
Believe me niggas keep sayin' they gon' heat me up
Talking that shit like they gon' lay me down
And when I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't want no parts of me pal
Niggas keep sayin' they gon' heat me up
Talking that shit like they gon' lay me down
And when I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't know parts of me pal
To all my niggas on the porch getting their hair braided
Corn rolled by a L.A. bitch
And I can't forget
My niggas riding the train Yankee fitted
Thermals under that Pelle shit
I love New York but gangbanging that's L.A. shit
And I'm proud of it
Spit it through the wire so the crowd love it
Haters you know who you are you can turn it down fuck it
I can shoot a video to it and spend half the budget
I'm gangsta, let the .40 cal blow in public
More hatred inside my soul than Pac had for Delores Tucker
Every time one of my niggas get shot the more I suffer
Cause we trapped inside a world where your forced to die for your colors
I seen it all through the Range tints
Got niggas doing life in the state pen
So I dread like Jamaicans
If I die for one of my statements
Than break up the streets of Compton and spill my blood in the pavement
[Hook]
Believe me niggas keep sayin they gon heat me up
Talking that shit like they goin lay me down
And then I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't want no parts of me pal
Niggas keep sayin they gon heat me up
Talking that shit like they goin lay me down
And then I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't know parts of me pal
[Verse 2]
Who I gotta talk to who I gotta write
Get my Reebok deal done
Or I'm stayin' in Air Nike's
Aiight, I handle bars you ain't gotta ride a bike
To peep game and his skill here go some training wheels
Let's roll
Through the city of god
Where LA niggas train to kill
Chop you up hundred times worse than the Haitians will
For real naw Pharrell I need a track homie
Dre we to close aint no turning back homie
Deal with it I'm a be here for ten years
Spittin like the ghost of Eric Wright and Big yeah
Let me paint this picture
While you sit here thinking in the back of your mind this is the shit yeah
I spit for you niggas doing 25 on they 5th year ready to throw a nigga off the 5th tier
Them white boys in the Abercrombie and Fitch gear
And every nigga who ever helped me get here
[Hook]
Believe me niggas keep sayin they gon heat me up
Talking that shit like they gon lay me down
And when I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't want no parts of me pal
Niggas keep sayin they gon heat me up
Talking that shit like they gon lay me down
And when I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't know parts of me pal
[Verse 3]
One brick, two brick
The boy moving weight
Now three bricks, four bricks
I'm driving upstate
Five Bricks, six bricks
The nigga got cake
Not rap money, but money been rap since ‘88
Look at the world we live in
Niggas steady hate, to the heckler at Koch
Leave him chopped up like freddy's face
Niggas catching feelings
Cause I'm about millions
And outta all the newcomers out, my flow's the illest
You a close second nigga,
A banana to a guerilla
Put us in the same cage and I'ma have to peel ‘em
The best of both worlds
Rapping and drug dealing
Run and tell the chief I came to burn down the village
The head honcho, staring out the third story window
Of my Beverly Hills condo
With two long ass heats
I call ‘em Shaq and Alonzo
You niggas want me outta L.A.
Yeah I know
[Hook]
Believe me niggas keep sayin' they gon' heat me up
Talking that shit like they gon' lay me down
And when I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't want no parts of me pal
Niggas keep sayin' they gon' heat me up
Talking that shit like they gon' lay me down
And when I come through strapped to see what's up
Niggas really don't know parts of me pal
Put You On The Game lyrics - The Game
[Verse 1]
First things first (aftermath), the chronic is back
This is indo produced by timbo
Game ova, naw the nwa chain choka
Is burnin rubber inside the range rova
Chain smokin, purple haze, this ain't
Anotha one of those this the rebirth of dre
The rebirth of la, the rebirth of hip-hop
Another memorial for makaveli and big pop
Hold up, timb stop. I said this anotha memorial
For makaveli and big pop, g-g-g-g-g!
Young homie got shit locked, public enemy #1
Flava flav on the wristwatch. all black g-units
All black impala, im a skitzo 3-wheelin the six-fo
50 cent know I'm comptons most wanted when
I'm ridin wit timbo
[Chorus]
Girl if you got a big back lemme bend that
Show me where ya friends at we can flip that
Lemme put you on the game (lemme put you on the game)
Lemme put you on the game (lemme put you on the game)
I show you where the bloods at where the crips at
Show you where they flip crack, where they bitch at
Lemme put you on the game (lemme put you on the game)
Lemme put you on the game (lemme put you on the game)
[Verse 2]
I ain't got the west on my shoulda, got the west
In the backseat of the rova. ridin on dubs, nigga
I'm westcoastin. the next hova from the home of
The best doja, makin all that racket, I got the u.s. open
Stunt on me I'll leave u wit ya chest open, vest broken
Hop in the lo-lo wit tha tech smokin, g-g-g-g-g!
I done paid my dues, nwa is back this is front page news.
I got dre in the back, ridin on 22's. bitches screamin
'let me ride', it must be the shoes. red and black g6's
Red dot on the glock, I'm goin 3x platinum dawg how
Do I stop? I'm hot
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
My unit is gorilla, fuck with my la familia,
I will kill ya. I know that boy not familia(r),
But you got to feel em if the docta sealed em
(is compton in the house?) without a doubt
I'm the rapper wit clout otha niggaz yap about.
You know the one that introduced new york to
The beach cruiser, got em puttin red and blue
Strings in they g-units. get groupie luv,
Tell em to keep movin, if I gotta problem wit a bitch
I let eve do it. unless she got on La Perla
And I can see through it, I don't just let her ride
I give her the keys to it. me n my bitch layed back
In the coupe, I'm movin in the neighborhood I ain't
Passin through. I woulda been here afta snoop,
But I slowed down and showed timbaland how to iron a khaki suit.
[Chorus]
First things first (aftermath), the chronic is back
This is indo produced by timbo
Game ova, naw the nwa chain choka
Is burnin rubber inside the range rova
Chain smokin, purple haze, this ain't
Anotha one of those this the rebirth of dre
The rebirth of la, the rebirth of hip-hop
Another memorial for makaveli and big pop
Hold up, timb stop. I said this anotha memorial
For makaveli and big pop, g-g-g-g-g!
Young homie got shit locked, public enemy #1
Flava flav on the wristwatch. all black g-units
All black impala, im a skitzo 3-wheelin the six-fo
50 cent know I'm comptons most wanted when
I'm ridin wit timbo
[Chorus]
Girl if you got a big back lemme bend that
Show me where ya friends at we can flip that
Lemme put you on the game (lemme put you on the game)
Lemme put you on the game (lemme put you on the game)
I show you where the bloods at where the crips at
Show you where they flip crack, where they bitch at
Lemme put you on the game (lemme put you on the game)
Lemme put you on the game (lemme put you on the game)
[Verse 2]
I ain't got the west on my shoulda, got the west
In the backseat of the rova. ridin on dubs, nigga
I'm westcoastin. the next hova from the home of
The best doja, makin all that racket, I got the u.s. open
Stunt on me I'll leave u wit ya chest open, vest broken
Hop in the lo-lo wit tha tech smokin, g-g-g-g-g!
I done paid my dues, nwa is back this is front page news.
I got dre in the back, ridin on 22's. bitches screamin
'let me ride', it must be the shoes. red and black g6's
Red dot on the glock, I'm goin 3x platinum dawg how
Do I stop? I'm hot
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
My unit is gorilla, fuck with my la familia,
I will kill ya. I know that boy not familia(r),
But you got to feel em if the docta sealed em
(is compton in the house?) without a doubt
I'm the rapper wit clout otha niggaz yap about.
You know the one that introduced new york to
The beach cruiser, got em puttin red and blue
Strings in they g-units. get groupie luv,
Tell em to keep movin, if I gotta problem wit a bitch
I let eve do it. unless she got on La Perla
And I can see through it, I don't just let her ride
I give her the keys to it. me n my bitch layed back
In the coupe, I'm movin in the neighborhood I ain't
Passin through. I woulda been here afta snoop,
But I slowed down and showed timbaland how to iron a khaki suit.
[Chorus]
Start From Scratch lyrics The Game
[Intro]
Aight
What the fuck are you lookin at self
You want a piece of me
Ahh man shit
The story of my life...
[Verse 1]
If I could start from scratch I wouldn't change shit
Same red bandana same 45th
Same g wagon same hoodrat bitch
Workers in the kitchen cookin up my shit
Same telephone booth same connect
That mean the same hollow tips breakin up in my chest
Same bloody t-shirt same address
Same dog food album bangin in my tape deck
Homie if I could make 94 today
I'd tell easy and dre to bring back N.W.A.
I would have told Pac not to stomp Orlando
Told puffy and B.I.G about the Rampart scandal
I got too many dead homies
Fuck a rap career
I'd give anything in the world to bring back my nigga tez
Seem like we was jus' in magic city yesterday
If I could bring back my homeboy charles he would say...
[Chorus]
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
[Verse 2]
Homie if I could rewind the hands of time
I would of cut of the PS2 at 12:49
Nigga I'm a gangsta I stay on my grind
Who knew 11 minutes later I'd get shot wit my own 9
I was 2 beeps away from a flatline
When you a bad boy niggas don't wanna see you shine
Dre said its my turn
He call it game time
23" Lexanis bitches call 'em LeBrons
I'd give my own life if I could change God's mind
Bring baby luny back at the drop of a dime
He let off a whole k
Got shot 1 time
That was a coo nigga I wish he had 9 lives
My brother devon died coz he chased the cat
This a dog eat dog world Jesus please holla back
I got a confession to make its called payback
If y'all don't wanna listen show me where pastor mase at
[Chorus]
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
[Verse 3]
I would have told Big Will it rain every Tuesday and Thursday
When pigeons in your coupe you gotta watch where your birds lay
Would have told Vita to stay sober
When niggas beg for mercy
That mean the beef is over
Told meesh to take the porsche back
Drive a rover
Told slim hit reverse on that hardtop nova
I would've change a couple of lines when I wrote soldier
So I wouldn't have to live lookin over my shoulder
My life is like an impala ridin 3 wheel motion
I've been front to back
Side to side
Level my 6 4 frame out
Keep on rollin
Keep your family far away and your enemys closer
Picture The Source suckin Benzino's dick
Tryna be the big fish in the pond
You know how them piranhas get
You dead when dat green line go flat
If you could start your life from scratch you couldn't change that
[Chorus]
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
Go right back.....
Aight
What the fuck are you lookin at self
You want a piece of me
Ahh man shit
The story of my life...
[Verse 1]
If I could start from scratch I wouldn't change shit
Same red bandana same 45th
Same g wagon same hoodrat bitch
Workers in the kitchen cookin up my shit
Same telephone booth same connect
That mean the same hollow tips breakin up in my chest
Same bloody t-shirt same address
Same dog food album bangin in my tape deck
Homie if I could make 94 today
I'd tell easy and dre to bring back N.W.A.
I would have told Pac not to stomp Orlando
Told puffy and B.I.G about the Rampart scandal
I got too many dead homies
Fuck a rap career
I'd give anything in the world to bring back my nigga tez
Seem like we was jus' in magic city yesterday
If I could bring back my homeboy charles he would say...
[Chorus]
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
[Verse 2]
Homie if I could rewind the hands of time
I would of cut of the PS2 at 12:49
Nigga I'm a gangsta I stay on my grind
Who knew 11 minutes later I'd get shot wit my own 9
I was 2 beeps away from a flatline
When you a bad boy niggas don't wanna see you shine
Dre said its my turn
He call it game time
23" Lexanis bitches call 'em LeBrons
I'd give my own life if I could change God's mind
Bring baby luny back at the drop of a dime
He let off a whole k
Got shot 1 time
That was a coo nigga I wish he had 9 lives
My brother devon died coz he chased the cat
This a dog eat dog world Jesus please holla back
I got a confession to make its called payback
If y'all don't wanna listen show me where pastor mase at
[Chorus]
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
[Verse 3]
I would have told Big Will it rain every Tuesday and Thursday
When pigeons in your coupe you gotta watch where your birds lay
Would have told Vita to stay sober
When niggas beg for mercy
That mean the beef is over
Told meesh to take the porsche back
Drive a rover
Told slim hit reverse on that hardtop nova
I would've change a couple of lines when I wrote soldier
So I wouldn't have to live lookin over my shoulder
My life is like an impala ridin 3 wheel motion
I've been front to back
Side to side
Level my 6 4 frame out
Keep on rollin
Keep your family far away and your enemys closer
Picture The Source suckin Benzino's dick
Tryna be the big fish in the pond
You know how them piranhas get
You dead when dat green line go flat
If you could start your life from scratch you couldn't change that
[Chorus]
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
If I could start my life from scratch
If I could take away the pain off my past
If I had another chance I would do just that
I'd give anything jus' to go right back
Go right back.....
The Documentary lyrics - The Game
[Boy talks to lady to start the song]
[Verse 1 - Game (DRE)]
What happened in hip hop
That got pac and big shot
The thicks blocks
Now every rapper claim
He let his clique pop
But even myself tote a gun
To know the run then get shot
Ive been there before
Now im fuckin with doc
(Gotta do the Calvin Broadus numbers)
If not i push rocks
Intisipatin my encarceration
Media think im fakin like mason
But when it comes to mase
Fuck r kelly i dont take it in the face
I find out who sprayed it
And im putting you under the pavement
No buddhist priest, catholic, or babtist pastor can save him
Im far from religious
But i got beliefs, so i put
Cannary yellow diamonds
On my jesus peace
I came back from the dead
Without a part of my chest
Layed in a hospital bed on cardiac arrest
I waited for 3 years
While everyone else dropped
Now i understand why NAS
Did a song with his pop
[Chorus x2]
Im ready to die
Without a reasonable doubt
Smoke chronic and hit it
Doggy style before i go out
Until they sign my death certificate
All eyez on me
Im still at it, illmatic
And thats THE DOCUMENTARY
[Verse 2]
If i die my niggas, fuck it
I did a song with Mary Blige, my niggas
Got a hook from faith
No verse from Jay
I guess on westside story
He thought i spit in his face
I told Ed Lover & Moni Love
I was talkin to Ja
With that mayback line
It was payback time
Keep fuckin with me nigga
Ill put you under me
Take your car and trade it in
For eight 3 hundred C's
If you cross my T
I dodt your eyes
You'd do life in a cementary
I'll do mine with shyne
Come home sit in the thrown
With my legs crossed
And my air force
Middle finger rough
Fuck the world
Cause im fellin like puff
When life after death hit
Mo' money, mo' problems
And i lost my best friend
Im the second dopest nigga
From compton u'll ever hear
The first nigga only put out albums
Every 7 years (haha)
[Game (Commentator)]
(You know what speakin of Jay
That just makes me roll down
Now your song westside story)
Ohh Ohh
(You got a line that says
Dont wear throwbacks
Or drive, ride in maybacks,
Is that a shot at Jay?)
Naa, i was talkin about Ja Rule
Yeah, So, Yeah, i got a lot of
Respect for Jay
You know what im saying
I never take shots at legends
Thats just something i dont do
[Verse 3 - Game (Busta)]
Let me tell you why i do this shit
Im a son of a gun
Cause moms was a hoover crip
First day i got signed
I had to prove i spit
Freestyle with Busta Rhymes
(son duck is sick)
Told to Jay and Doc Dre.
I could finally put the shoes on
Now that the rumors of Rakim and cube gone
The q gone
They say truth hurts
Chunk, like quick sand
Dont stop me in traffic
And ask about hitman
I gotta restore the feelin
It crawled from under the rock
After the dog pound
Crushed the buildings
I got a family to feed
Im the middle of 9 children
We can talk about a loan
After i sell 5 million
If i tell you i aint game
And i dont know Dre.
You gonn do me like x-zibit
And cut half of my face?
I take all the credit
For putting the west
Back on the map
If you aint feelin that
Go sign Gorilla Black!!!
[Chorus x2]
(DOCUMENTARY)
[Verse 1 - Game (DRE)]
What happened in hip hop
That got pac and big shot
The thicks blocks
Now every rapper claim
He let his clique pop
But even myself tote a gun
To know the run then get shot
Ive been there before
Now im fuckin with doc
(Gotta do the Calvin Broadus numbers)
If not i push rocks
Intisipatin my encarceration
Media think im fakin like mason
But when it comes to mase
Fuck r kelly i dont take it in the face
I find out who sprayed it
And im putting you under the pavement
No buddhist priest, catholic, or babtist pastor can save him
Im far from religious
But i got beliefs, so i put
Cannary yellow diamonds
On my jesus peace
I came back from the dead
Without a part of my chest
Layed in a hospital bed on cardiac arrest
I waited for 3 years
While everyone else dropped
Now i understand why NAS
Did a song with his pop
[Chorus x2]
Im ready to die
Without a reasonable doubt
Smoke chronic and hit it
Doggy style before i go out
Until they sign my death certificate
All eyez on me
Im still at it, illmatic
And thats THE DOCUMENTARY
[Verse 2]
If i die my niggas, fuck it
I did a song with Mary Blige, my niggas
Got a hook from faith
No verse from Jay
I guess on westside story
He thought i spit in his face
I told Ed Lover & Moni Love
I was talkin to Ja
With that mayback line
It was payback time
Keep fuckin with me nigga
Ill put you under me
Take your car and trade it in
For eight 3 hundred C's
If you cross my T
I dodt your eyes
You'd do life in a cementary
I'll do mine with shyne
Come home sit in the thrown
With my legs crossed
And my air force
Middle finger rough
Fuck the world
Cause im fellin like puff
When life after death hit
Mo' money, mo' problems
And i lost my best friend
Im the second dopest nigga
From compton u'll ever hear
The first nigga only put out albums
Every 7 years (haha)
[Game (Commentator)]
(You know what speakin of Jay
That just makes me roll down
Now your song westside story)
Ohh Ohh
(You got a line that says
Dont wear throwbacks
Or drive, ride in maybacks,
Is that a shot at Jay?)
Naa, i was talkin about Ja Rule
Yeah, So, Yeah, i got a lot of
Respect for Jay
You know what im saying
I never take shots at legends
Thats just something i dont do
[Verse 3 - Game (Busta)]
Let me tell you why i do this shit
Im a son of a gun
Cause moms was a hoover crip
First day i got signed
I had to prove i spit
Freestyle with Busta Rhymes
(son duck is sick)
Told to Jay and Doc Dre.
I could finally put the shoes on
Now that the rumors of Rakim and cube gone
The q gone
They say truth hurts
Chunk, like quick sand
Dont stop me in traffic
And ask about hitman
I gotta restore the feelin
It crawled from under the rock
After the dog pound
Crushed the buildings
I got a family to feed
Im the middle of 9 children
We can talk about a loan
After i sell 5 million
If i tell you i aint game
And i dont know Dre.
You gonn do me like x-zibit
And cut half of my face?
I take all the credit
For putting the west
Back on the map
If you aint feelin that
Go sign Gorilla Black!!!
[Chorus x2]
(DOCUMENTARY)
Runnin' lyrics - The Game (feat. Tony Yayo)
[Chorus]
Got to live for today cause tomorrow ain't promised to me
Don't just want a piece I want my whole destiny
(If you got it)
I'm gone take it
(If you're in it)
You're coming with me
(Bench warmers)
Get no playing time
(No sleeping)
Till I cross the line
I'm runnin'
[The Game]
With 99 miles left, on the Avis rental car
blowing horns like Miles Davis at the pearly gate
God let me in
Give me a room by Aaliyah with ESPN
I know I got more sins than two lesbians
Been back and forth across the border like Mexicans
But (I'm runnin') like New York pedestrians
Trying not to scuff my Nike Air checks again
It's funny how niggaz be the best of friends
And fall out over pussy and wanna dead they man
One of my niggaz in the grave the other one in the pin
She fuckin my enemies inside my homeboys Benz
Now she beggin God's mercy cause she ain't listen to Nas
And never heard about Ike and the Iverson jersey
He got a cousin named Jason that rock the Gary Payton
Now the same trifling bitch is a HIV patient
True story
[Chorus]
[Tony Yayo]
If I get knocked with my gun nigga I'm runnin'
If I catch a murder one nigga I'm runnin'
Homicide come around and they keep on coming
That's why I'm out of state and I keep on runnin'
I ain't Nelly but my desert eagles on girl
Just dropped bail traveling the world
When I sign my deal I said fuck jail
I went on tour to Barcelona and Brazil
This shit real fuck an appeal
D's want my head like that bitch in Kill Bill
Sling dope sling crack and them e pills
That's why I'm on the low like a damn navy seal
I'm runnin'
[Chorus]
[Game]
Cause I gotta pack them shows
And Dre told me ain't no coming back from Go
So I gotta get my album in place
My G-Unit features
My Eminem sixteens
My Dr. Dre beats
And it was two years from today when I started rhyming
And took my demo to Suge and he ain't sign me
Niggaz threatening my life like it's hard to find me
See me shining in the hood like twenty inch Lexanis
My mom said I'm hard head
I don't follow the rules
Why should I when Reebok giving niggaz they own shoes
And I'm dealing with the same problems 50 Cent got
Yayo in jail and they think I'm trying to take his spot
I'm in the studio laughing at Chris Rock
Then I turn on MTV and see Soulja Slim shot
And niggaz trying to gun me down in the rim shop
Cause I just want the same recognition that the crypts got
They say I'm the next in line and if I get shot
Then I go out as the Bobby Fischer of hip hop
Make yo chest move
Sylvia Rome and Kevin Lyle slept cool
Jimmy Iovine was the best move
Got to live for today cause tomorrow ain't promised to me
Don't just want a piece I want my whole destiny
(If you got it)
I'm gone take it
(If you're in it)
You're coming with me
(Bench warmers)
Get no playing time
(No sleeping)
Till I cross the line
I'm runnin'
[The Game]
With 99 miles left, on the Avis rental car
blowing horns like Miles Davis at the pearly gate
God let me in
Give me a room by Aaliyah with ESPN
I know I got more sins than two lesbians
Been back and forth across the border like Mexicans
But (I'm runnin') like New York pedestrians
Trying not to scuff my Nike Air checks again
It's funny how niggaz be the best of friends
And fall out over pussy and wanna dead they man
One of my niggaz in the grave the other one in the pin
She fuckin my enemies inside my homeboys Benz
Now she beggin God's mercy cause she ain't listen to Nas
And never heard about Ike and the Iverson jersey
He got a cousin named Jason that rock the Gary Payton
Now the same trifling bitch is a HIV patient
True story
[Chorus]
[Tony Yayo]
If I get knocked with my gun nigga I'm runnin'
If I catch a murder one nigga I'm runnin'
Homicide come around and they keep on coming
That's why I'm out of state and I keep on runnin'
I ain't Nelly but my desert eagles on girl
Just dropped bail traveling the world
When I sign my deal I said fuck jail
I went on tour to Barcelona and Brazil
This shit real fuck an appeal
D's want my head like that bitch in Kill Bill
Sling dope sling crack and them e pills
That's why I'm on the low like a damn navy seal
I'm runnin'
[Chorus]
[Game]
Cause I gotta pack them shows
And Dre told me ain't no coming back from Go
So I gotta get my album in place
My G-Unit features
My Eminem sixteens
My Dr. Dre beats
And it was two years from today when I started rhyming
And took my demo to Suge and he ain't sign me
Niggaz threatening my life like it's hard to find me
See me shining in the hood like twenty inch Lexanis
My mom said I'm hard head
I don't follow the rules
Why should I when Reebok giving niggaz they own shoes
And I'm dealing with the same problems 50 Cent got
Yayo in jail and they think I'm trying to take his spot
I'm in the studio laughing at Chris Rock
Then I turn on MTV and see Soulja Slim shot
And niggaz trying to gun me down in the rim shop
Cause I just want the same recognition that the crypts got
They say I'm the next in line and if I get shot
Then I go out as the Bobby Fischer of hip hop
Make yo chest move
Sylvia Rome and Kevin Lyle slept cool
Jimmy Iovine was the best move
No More Fun And Games lyrics - The Game
[INTRO]
3 Minutes my nigga...Ya'll know what it is..Just Blaze!
[VERSE 1]
Gangsta Gangsta that's already evident.
Nigga wit a Attitude, check, check my residence.
Whether I'm Crip or Blood, Homie, that's irrelivant.
I'm with the D-O-C, there's nobody better then the west coast felon when he on that lowrider
Bike pedaling, Somebody tell Eazy they still yellin' it.
I'm with ya homie Doc Dre on the television while these niggas moving peanuts like a elephant.
I'm on cars like spinnin' rims.
I'm in a class all by myself like the brown Eminem.
Not to down Eminem I fuck black bitches, fuck white bitches, nigga I like bitches.
Them half and half Alicia Keys dyke bitches.
If the head right, I might Air Nike bitches.
Or put 'em on a track like Just Blaze, I look down on hoes and look up to Dre, cause ain't...
[CHORUS]
No More Fun and Games.
[scratches and mix-ins]
[VERSE 2]
I'm like Dre, Eazy, Cube, King Tia rolled into One.
Used to move birdies 'till I put a hole in one.
Nigga they thought I wasn't holdin' a gun, they try to ride up on me like Afeni Shakurs only son.
Dre told me he ain't doing Detox, this his only run.
Mase coming back and Hovie done.
I'm surrounded by legends, sitting at the round table, I am The Game and still niggas tryna play
Dude.
I'm Ruthless, I ain't talkin' 'bout the label.
I hook niggas up and I don't mean free cable.
I mean I hook niggas up to the I.V, the same way Dre hooked me up to Ivine.
I'm from the gutter, grew up in public housing.
On the same block with a shack like Yao Ming.
So if a nigga ever try to Jerry Hellin' me, tell Dre put up a mill cause that's what my bail
Will be.
[CHORUS]
No More Fun and Games.
[scratches and mix-ins]
[VERSE 3]
I been rapping for 1 year 1 month, 17 days.
13 hours, 28 minutes, then I met Dre.
30 minutes after I bought the new Em, that was November 18, 3:09 P.M.
Around the same time Wanksta got it's first spin, that was 32 weeks before they signed Rakim.
8 Months, 13 Days, before I knew a Mike Lynn.
And 3 Years after Mase done turned his mic in?
I start writing 22 months and 20 weeks prior to Lebron shaking Adidas for Nikes.
I'm right here, 6 years after Randy Moss caught his first touchdown for the Vikings.
1 day, 7 hours, 14 minutes, 21 seconds before Soundscan got printed.
2 Platinum Records for I'm classified with Biggie.
And 2 seconds before the song finish, yeah.
3 Minutes my nigga...Ya'll know what it is..Just Blaze!
[VERSE 1]
Gangsta Gangsta that's already evident.
Nigga wit a Attitude, check, check my residence.
Whether I'm Crip or Blood, Homie, that's irrelivant.
I'm with the D-O-C, there's nobody better then the west coast felon when he on that lowrider
Bike pedaling, Somebody tell Eazy they still yellin' it.
I'm with ya homie Doc Dre on the television while these niggas moving peanuts like a elephant.
I'm on cars like spinnin' rims.
I'm in a class all by myself like the brown Eminem.
Not to down Eminem I fuck black bitches, fuck white bitches, nigga I like bitches.
Them half and half Alicia Keys dyke bitches.
If the head right, I might Air Nike bitches.
Or put 'em on a track like Just Blaze, I look down on hoes and look up to Dre, cause ain't...
[CHORUS]
No More Fun and Games.
[scratches and mix-ins]
[VERSE 2]
I'm like Dre, Eazy, Cube, King Tia rolled into One.
Used to move birdies 'till I put a hole in one.
Nigga they thought I wasn't holdin' a gun, they try to ride up on me like Afeni Shakurs only son.
Dre told me he ain't doing Detox, this his only run.
Mase coming back and Hovie done.
I'm surrounded by legends, sitting at the round table, I am The Game and still niggas tryna play
Dude.
I'm Ruthless, I ain't talkin' 'bout the label.
I hook niggas up and I don't mean free cable.
I mean I hook niggas up to the I.V, the same way Dre hooked me up to Ivine.
I'm from the gutter, grew up in public housing.
On the same block with a shack like Yao Ming.
So if a nigga ever try to Jerry Hellin' me, tell Dre put up a mill cause that's what my bail
Will be.
[CHORUS]
No More Fun and Games.
[scratches and mix-ins]
[VERSE 3]
I been rapping for 1 year 1 month, 17 days.
13 hours, 28 minutes, then I met Dre.
30 minutes after I bought the new Em, that was November 18, 3:09 P.M.
Around the same time Wanksta got it's first spin, that was 32 weeks before they signed Rakim.
8 Months, 13 Days, before I knew a Mike Lynn.
And 3 Years after Mase done turned his mic in?
I start writing 22 months and 20 weeks prior to Lebron shaking Adidas for Nikes.
I'm right here, 6 years after Randy Moss caught his first touchdown for the Vikings.
1 day, 7 hours, 14 minutes, 21 seconds before Soundscan got printed.
2 Platinum Records for I'm classified with Biggie.
And 2 seconds before the song finish, yeah.
We Ain't lyrics - The Game (feat. Eminem)
[Intro]
Ladies and gentleman
You are now about to witness the strength
Of Aftermath straight out the mothafuckin streets of Compton
Put your hands together for Game b!tch
Hahahaha
Yeah mothafuckas
Compton's back on the mothafuckin map
Aftermath in that ass bitch
Game let's go
[Verse 1 - The Game]
Me and Marshall ain't start shit they listen to our shit
They talk shit about us but that shit is foul when
I'm tryna feed my son and drop multi-platinum albums
Make my mother proud that her son made it out
But its hard when they hate us and think 'Em a racist
They say shit but fuck them,
Shady one of the greatest like Biggie n' Pac was
We started throwin cinthi and decided to chase 'em
Me, him and 50 racin' this rap shit is basic I followed that Jay shit
Thinkin what I wanna say, step in the booth in one take and
How could I not sell a million when I'm rappin' on Dre hits
Then spit that classical LA, NWA shit
The media is bullshit now we can't even say bitch
They accusin Michael of touchin kids in the wrong places
At first they embraced him, had a couple of face lifts
Now people wanna place him with murderers and rapists
They comin' I can taste this swear to God I ain't racin'
Put the clip in and wast 'em before I go out on that fake shit
I'm so sick and tired this black shit this white shit
So I sit here and write shit, Em they ain't gon' like this
[Chorus:]
[The Game]
So they callin us
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
[Eminem]
This day the game won't ever be the same
[Dre]
Things just ain't the same for gangstas
[Eminem]
The game just isn't the same its changing
To new Game
You're now about to witness the power
[Verse 2 - Eminem]
Only Dre can, judge me for the mistakes I'm making
If I'm faking, I'm Clay Aiken
You ain't 50 and you ain't Game, you lame, you're tame
Your mind's lost, you are not ready to make that flame switch
You will end up in the same situation, same shit
Different day, just with different gangstas in your face
Which- way do you wanna face when your brains hit pavement
Think of what you'll say to Pastor Mase and save it
For the day that they got them affidavits waiving in my face
Looking for answers, rap sensation Eminem battles to ward off accusations
That he had somebody blasted
The Mask of Jason was found at the scene of the task with masking tape
And the victim's penis up his ass, a basket case
And they ask him to clean up his act, you bastards wasting too much time
Me no kiss ass, and if that's the case, then we ain't going...
[Chorus:]
[The Game]
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
[Eminem]
This day the game won't ever be the same
[Dre]
Things just ain't the same for gangstas
[Eminem]
The game just isn't the same its changing
To new Game
You're now about to witness the power
[Verse 3 - The Game]
Low get Dre on the phone quick
Tell him Eminem just killed me on my own shit
I'm walking through 8 mile, startin' to get home sick
I'ma do Shady numbers, I'm ridin' my own dick
Yeah the chrome sick, the window's tinted
If Eminem is anybody on my under the pennalton
These niggas is killing it take a minute to listen
Turn down my Jimmy Hendrix, I'll throw your demo out the window
For tellin me its hot when its not and you got what you got
From them rocks on the block, you can stop tellin Dre you got shot
With a glock that don't phase me,
I'm crazy why you think I'm rhyming with Shady ?
I don't care if the radio don't play me, I say what I say when I feel like I'm feelin today
And get hard when these bitches see my car in the streets
I can't even take my son to cop them G-Unit sneaks
[Chorus]
So I'm gone bitch
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
[Eminem]
This day the game won't ever be the same
[Dre]
Things just ain't the same for gangstas
[Eminem]
The game just isn't the same its changin
To new Game
You're now about to witness the power
Ladies and gentleman
You are now about to witness the strength
Of Aftermath straight out the mothafuckin streets of Compton
Put your hands together for Game b!tch
Hahahaha
Yeah mothafuckas
Compton's back on the mothafuckin map
Aftermath in that ass bitch
Game let's go
[Verse 1 - The Game]
Me and Marshall ain't start shit they listen to our shit
They talk shit about us but that shit is foul when
I'm tryna feed my son and drop multi-platinum albums
Make my mother proud that her son made it out
But its hard when they hate us and think 'Em a racist
They say shit but fuck them,
Shady one of the greatest like Biggie n' Pac was
We started throwin cinthi and decided to chase 'em
Me, him and 50 racin' this rap shit is basic I followed that Jay shit
Thinkin what I wanna say, step in the booth in one take and
How could I not sell a million when I'm rappin' on Dre hits
Then spit that classical LA, NWA shit
The media is bullshit now we can't even say bitch
They accusin Michael of touchin kids in the wrong places
At first they embraced him, had a couple of face lifts
Now people wanna place him with murderers and rapists
They comin' I can taste this swear to God I ain't racin'
Put the clip in and wast 'em before I go out on that fake shit
I'm so sick and tired this black shit this white shit
So I sit here and write shit, Em they ain't gon' like this
[Chorus:]
[The Game]
So they callin us
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
[Eminem]
This day the game won't ever be the same
[Dre]
Things just ain't the same for gangstas
[Eminem]
The game just isn't the same its changing
To new Game
You're now about to witness the power
[Verse 2 - Eminem]
Only Dre can, judge me for the mistakes I'm making
If I'm faking, I'm Clay Aiken
You ain't 50 and you ain't Game, you lame, you're tame
Your mind's lost, you are not ready to make that flame switch
You will end up in the same situation, same shit
Different day, just with different gangstas in your face
Which- way do you wanna face when your brains hit pavement
Think of what you'll say to Pastor Mase and save it
For the day that they got them affidavits waiving in my face
Looking for answers, rap sensation Eminem battles to ward off accusations
That he had somebody blasted
The Mask of Jason was found at the scene of the task with masking tape
And the victim's penis up his ass, a basket case
And they ask him to clean up his act, you bastards wasting too much time
Me no kiss ass, and if that's the case, then we ain't going...
[Chorus:]
[The Game]
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
[Eminem]
This day the game won't ever be the same
[Dre]
Things just ain't the same for gangstas
[Eminem]
The game just isn't the same its changing
To new Game
You're now about to witness the power
[Verse 3 - The Game]
Low get Dre on the phone quick
Tell him Eminem just killed me on my own shit
I'm walking through 8 mile, startin' to get home sick
I'ma do Shady numbers, I'm ridin' my own dick
Yeah the chrome sick, the window's tinted
If Eminem is anybody on my under the pennalton
These niggas is killing it take a minute to listen
Turn down my Jimmy Hendrix, I'll throw your demo out the window
For tellin me its hot when its not and you got what you got
From them rocks on the block, you can stop tellin Dre you got shot
With a glock that don't phase me,
I'm crazy why you think I'm rhyming with Shady ?
I don't care if the radio don't play me, I say what I say when I feel like I'm feelin today
And get hard when these bitches see my car in the streets
I can't even take my son to cop them G-Unit sneaks
[Chorus]
So I'm gone bitch
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
We ain't goin no where so fuck you
[Eminem]
This day the game won't ever be the same
[Dre]
Things just ain't the same for gangstas
[Eminem]
The game just isn't the same its changin
To new Game
You're now about to witness the power
Where I'm From lyrics - The Games (feat. Nate Dogg)
[The Game]
I'ma B-L-double-O-D
Been on songs with S-N-double-O-P
Inside a Ferrari with the D-R-E
Run up I let it sing like Nate D-O-double-G
Walk through 8 Mile, G-Unit's on my feet
Got a cherry lowrider in the N-Y-C
Eve took me to Philly, never been to the pen
Been to Uptown with 50, seen niggaz in Timbs
I done seen Young Buck scuff Air Force Ones
in Cashville, but Compton is {where I'm from}
Where it's just me, my son, and my bitch
She graduated when Notorious B.I.G. dropped "Me & My Bitch"
She get them birds past, I put her in first class
And tell her to carry on that Duni & Burke bag
She from Grape Street, she know how to work the mag
And only buy white tees, tell 'em to keep the purple tags
Cause the laces in my Chucks keep the beef crackin
I lay niggaz out like creased khakis
In that G-wagon, lean like the 23's draggin
I got the whole N-Y-C saggin
[Chorus: Nate Dogg]
If you don't know
(Aftermath, nigga witta attitude) (Game time niggaz, Westside)
Where I'm from
(Nigga witta 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 better watch your colors in the 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 Blood
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 W-N-B-A, all pussy
[Chorus - 2X]
I'ma B-L-double-O-D
Been on songs with S-N-double-O-P
Inside a Ferrari with the D-R-E
Run up I let it sing like Nate D-O-double-G
Walk through 8 Mile, G-Unit's on my feet
Got a cherry lowrider in the N-Y-C
Eve took me to Philly, never been to the pen
Been to Uptown with 50, seen niggaz in Timbs
I done seen Young Buck scuff Air Force Ones
in Cashville, but Compton is {where I'm from}
Where it's just me, my son, and my bitch
She graduated when Notorious B.I.G. dropped "Me & My Bitch"
She get them birds past, I put her in first class
And tell her to carry on that Duni & Burke bag
She from Grape Street, she know how to work the mag
And only buy white tees, tell 'em to keep the purple tags
Cause the laces in my Chucks keep the beef crackin
I lay niggaz out like creased khakis
In that G-wagon, lean like the 23's draggin
I got the whole N-Y-C saggin
[Chorus: Nate Dogg]
If you don't know
(Aftermath, nigga witta attitude) (Game time niggaz, Westside)
Where I'm from
(Nigga witta 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 better watch your colors in the 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 Blood
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 W-N-B-A, all pussy
[Chorus - 2X]
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