It's time to play the game
Time to play the game
It's all about the game and how you play it
All about control and if you can take it
All about your debt and if you can pay it
It's all about pain and who's gonna make it
I am the game, you don't wanna play me
I am control, no way you can shake me
I am heavy debt, no way you can pay me
I am the pain and I know you can't take me
Look over your shoulder ready to run
Like a good little bitch from a smokin' gun
I am the game and I made the rules
So move on out here and die like a fool
Try to figure out what the move's gonna be
Come on over, sucka why don't you ask me
Don't you forget there's a price you can pay
'Cause I am the game and I want to play
It's time to play the game
Time to play the game
It's all about the game and how you play it
It's all about control and if you can take it
It's all about your debt and if you can pay it
It's all about pain and who's gonna make it
I am the game, you don't wanna play me
I am control, there's no way you can shake me
I am your debt, you know you can't pay me
I am your pain and I know you can't take me
Play the game, you're gonna be the same
You're gonna change your name, you're gonna die in flames
Time to play the game
It's time to play the game
It's time to play the game
It's time to play the game
Time to play the game
[DJ Clue]
Yeah... DJ Clue...Dessert Storm...EA Sports...Come on
[Fabolous]
NBA Live...2003... Fabolous...Who Gon' Stop Me!!?
[Verse 1]
I hoop with the best of them swooped up the chest of them
dunked on a bunch caught ali-oops on the rest of them
I got the lean on the "J" now
it really don't matter if we play in arenas or playgrounds
throw it around the back so it look fly when I pass
just to avoid the block go high off the glass
I'm killing them out there they gon' have to bring caskets
this all I hear after the baskets *swoosh*
but I ain't even warm up
and still pull from where it counts for 3 points and leave the form up
you must be insane if you give me the lane or perimiter
the crossover will sprain every limb on ya
I never woulda, ever coulda
thought I could come off the baseline and jump over seven-footers
soon as you step out the locker room you now can see
how live it gets in 2003
[Hook: repeat 2X]
Who gon' stop me when I'm in the lane?
I come to entertain you know its in the game
Who gon' stop me? go and get 5
I D-up with 5 you know it gets live
[Verse 2]
I'm the crowd favorite and I believe the
[20 second instrumental to open]
[The Game]
Who really the best rapper since 'Pac got killed
I done answered that question when I copped my deal
Ask yourself when the Game is comin, after next summer
I predict my shit'll drop before the next Howard homecoming
Now who in the runnin, no one, ask the niggaz who want it
I got a four-fifth and it just like me, it stay gunnin
Me and my niggaz stay blunted fogged up in the 600
Guilty as charged, blunts in the air, guns in the doors
It's written, Compton niggaz never run from the law
Plus we get Monopoly money with hotels and a board
So I'll never see a jail, and I'm allergic to bars
Can't sit behind 'em or drink at 'em, so we travel with ours
Poppin Crist' in the 6, like we drivin through Mardi Gras
Thinkin 'bout beads and titties as I roll through the city
And I keep 16 in the clip, and I let 'em all go
like the Lakers did Ellie, Atty and Nick, huh
[Chorus]
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent, cause
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent
[Sean T]
No garbage we smoke molta, move big cocoa
We off the train tracks like the great space coaster
We hit real big and consistant like Sam Sosa
Prepare for war, like United States soldiers
Lock tight and rock right like grey eight oz's
I'll be hittin up spots, in them flip Range Rovers
Before you even try to play, foolish all over
Empty out yo' pockets, turn everything over
We ball out cursin yeah we keep it the sickest
When we roll by the quads in them Z-66's
Big spittin, grip kitten, that big face greed
Always dirty never clean but we live like kings
Legendary like Sting, it's a history to follow
But not known for stingin known for gettin off hollows
Shoot me a glass of Remy, nah fuck it the whole bottle
And watch me act bad and take off, full throttle
[Chorus]
[JT the Bigga Figga]
I'm from a batch where it ain't no cut, we all in
36 on a triple beam scale for meal
Duffle bag on my shoulder my route, through the back of the jet
To bag up baguettes and everybody know it
I'm the iceholder makin the cut, never breakin 'em up
My favorite color is rainbowed up
Ain't a coke dealer, but I got bricks for cheap
Hit the lab for a fo' day block, we got heat
You niggaz can't compete when I walk in the streets
We Get Low, and there's no idea with the info
It's a rule of thumb, let them dudes a come
I'm cruisin some, 20 inch shoes and some
I'm in the widebody XM-5, all my snakes is live
We check your five, the spot where the tec dies
And everybody gotta holla the name
It's JT from the Fillmoe streets to CPT
[The Game]
Who the illest hub dawg you know
Peelin slugs at your mug, dealin drugs in front of the projects
My projects, more scatter, more street
Makin room for more drama, more hustle, more heat
I can show you how to get, American money easy
It's the gangster, all motherfuckers envy
Leave all semi I tote, clips empty
Foes tempt me, I'm seein no penitentiary
Crime scene clean, shells, no prints
Flee the shootout, X-5, no {?}
It's meant for me to survive this gangster shit
Meant for you not to be livin, food for the pigeons
It's rules I'm givin, new lessons for the street
This jungle I'm from B don't breed no weak
Lames that don't know the game please don't speak
You get killed, want me peeled, I'm showin no {?} nigga
[Chorus: The Game] + (Sean T)
Every nigga out there claimin to be the illest
I don't know if y'all know let a nigga know I'm lost in the stipulations
Niggaz hatin, everybody waitin for the outcome
Whatever happened to just to rappin?
(Mic graspin, freestyle flow flashin)
(Rippin up tracks and, doin the thang)
(What'chu niggaz know about Sean T and the Game?)
(Who's the illest?)
[Sean T]
I'm off the rack like slabs of ribs, I want it big
I ain't fuckin with kids, I'm after six digit things
Fuck the rings and the tribulations, constant playa hatin
This crimin-al lifestyle, keeps me animatin
Let's turf talk before you niggaz thuggin it up
It don't matter if you Crip'n, or Blood'n it up
Dallas Squad blooded it up, smashin on sight
But he hoppin on haters like BMX bikes
Fuck around with the Squad see unbearable sights
We takin gangster shit to the maximum height
But I'm mainly into bubblin, fat grip doublin
Big heads I'm lovin 'em, you feelin me y'all
Leavin the envious in awe cause I tremendously ball
I'm supported by the Game so you know I won't fall
I'ma execute my options, keep wettin my paws
And come out unscathed with no scratches or flaws
Who's the illest
[Chorus]
[The Game]
They say 'Game, you rappin like you from the East coast,' meet toast
Gun jammed in your throat, forgot that you spoke
Game got the streets woke young'n, same nigga got the coke runnin
Introduce the new fiends to smack
Pops told me when I was younger, you can't live like that
So I don't listen to pops nigga I listen to Kool G. Rap
Went from hustlin sacks to heavy weight, shufflin crack
Kids and preachers know me, young Game the O.G.
Ask the reverand kept the church from fallin, young'uns from starvin
I'm the project like Marcy or the Nickerson Gardens
Comfortable dawg, Compton to Harlem, any city ghetto or hood
Kick back, blowin, listen to Marvin
Get head, count dough and just sit in the apartment
AK in the sofa, I'm the illest, who come closer
to the late ones or great ones fightin over a crown
Get shot off that throne, who the illest now, huh?
[Chorus]
[Sean T]
Some say the gangster mentality is dead, imagine that
When fools pullin straps out with infrared
We're livin in a time of plagues and corrupt life
When homies in the circle end up all trife
Tryin to shine bright, but lookin all dim
Meanwhile I stay sharp like a ballpoint pen
I see the smirks and grins but I just laugh
Cause I'm gettin lucrative loot, endless math
If you only knew the half of it, you wouldn't hate
But niggaz just pig and talk shit behind Jake
Man you cain't knock the hustle, I ain't fin' to be greedy
I want an exit out the game kinda like Paul Vitti
I'm tryin to slang CD's in cruise control
Instead of sellin illegal pharmaceuticals
Should I ask for your advice? Like you would know
Fuck it, I'm out to get it, I'm a fool for dough
[Chorus]
[Verse 1 - Kanye West]
Yeah, Yeah
I used to front when I write songs
Talkin' about having ice on
And I could barely keep my lights on
And my beats was so sick I should've got a medic,
But my credit was so pathetic I couldn't afford a debit
When the dropout dropped I had to cop me a money tree
To front on anybody who ever tried to front on me
With so much personality what do u want from me
I could be by myself and enjoy the company
My life this year my career is the lore
Bad shit is a war is for Melissa ford
‘94 I could only afford this accord
From the home of gang bangin and we all outdoors
Southside outside westside lets ride eastside right beside lakeshore drive
And i'm (and i'm) chi towns finest, where you at the whole city behind us
Where you at the whole city behind us
Where you at the whole city behind us
Southside outside westside lets ride
Where you at the whole city behind us
[Verse 2 - Ludacris]
It ain't nothing to it but to do it
I came here to shut the place down
Till my body starts pumpin red fluid
A-town I been through it
And we steady getting tested
But ready to feel your bubble
When we put the lead to it
Out west they still bangin
Up top it's really gulley
Down south we get buck and turn hearts to silly putty
Ludacris I got silly money you got jokes
I'll be laughing all the way to the bank now that's really funny
Big city bright lights, and many pity cause we like fights
Maybe long days but its fight nights
Living out the night life
And people asking where u at
Not the club ill stay in to get ripe
Hot-lanta home of the booty's and the really tight skirts
Where if somebody moves then somebody gets hurt
From Decatur down to C.P., and E.P.,
Adam's field to the battlefield, Its D.T.P.
Where you at the whole city behind us
Where you at the whole city behind us
Southside outside westside lets ride
Where you at the whole city behind us
[Verse 3 - The Game]
Its Compton's prodigy obviously I'm from the home of hydraulics
Where they tie bandanas around the steering columns of Impalas
And to get hollow we fightin' pit bulls and rot weiler's in the projects
The objective is make dolla's
Where you at?
It ain't a problem to get it there by tomorrow
Cause I got a female friend with frequent flier mileage
I ain't ever been to college got the IQ of a road scholar
If you follow G Unit throw up your dub's and yell hollar
To all the Y G's in khaki's and white tee's
With Air One's in every color like Ice T
I might be the city of Compton's right knee
The way I paint pictures with these hip hop scriptures
Pay attention why the Game shine like a prism
Glisten show you how canaries could alter ones vision
Not to mention I am Dr. Dre christened
On behalf of Luda and Kanyeezy
I'm gone breath easy
Where you at the whole city behind us
Where you at the whole city behind us
Southside outside westside lets ride
Where you at the whole city behind us
Where you at the whole city behind us
Where you at the whole city behind us
Southside outside westside lets ride
Where you at the whole city behind us
[Chorus - Chicken Little]
I am the champion my friend
And I'll keep on fighting 'till the end
I am the champion
I am the champion
Don't end for loser cause I am the champion
[The Game]
Guess whos back in a son of a bitch
Underground king with a gun on his hip
Not the UGK like Bun B and Pimp C
But I got the Ghost Unit bumpin in my Bentley
Ain't shit changed with the guts in a range
And no more Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo and Young Buck in my lane
I'm a hood nigga for real motherfuck the fame
Nigga I'ma get mine
You can hate it or love it but it's a thin line
Between G-Unot and G-Unit
Nigga talk shit catch one in the hip
Fuck beef for the rhyme
50 forgot about his but I took mine
I showed you all 5 but he never took 9
He rap like Trina blah blah blah
Ok, shut up
Let us see the wound
Show it to the world
He got shot in the mouth and cried like a girl
You sing like a girl
And I gangbang so hard it'll bring back curls
I'm tellin' your fan don't believe that shit
Tryin beef with The Game like he that sick
You movie was trash and I went to see that shit
With a camera and got it on DVD that quick
Chicken Little and Harry Potter
The bootleg hell yeah we got 'em
Two movies 15 dollars with no numbers on the bottom
Hahahahahahaha.........
Chicken Little ghetto pimp!
[Chorus - Chicken Little]
I am the champion my friend
And I'll keep on fighting 'till the end
I am the champion
I am the champion
Don't end for loser cause I am the champion
[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]
[The Game]
(State your name gangsta)
The Game
(Where you from nigga?)
Westcoast
(You gon' hold it down?)
We always do around this time
[The Game]
I ain't leaving motherfucker, I'm back
You've been away to long, I can't do nothin' bout that
The hood askin' me Why I do Bleek a tragedy?
Than drive over Brooklyn Bridge with Cassidy
I rode down flushin', in a Rove down flushin'
The hood show me love like I was Hova down flushin'
Compton's Most, where the Yonkers flow
And I got love for Queens and the Bronx fo' sho'
Got squares blowing that Cali Drove muahfucker
And I off shot like Aly Mo at the rucker
Yeah the bird Flipper in Houston with the surve sipper
I'm nice around Mikes words in pimpin'
Got a mean knuckle game, I learn my dipppin'
In '87, when Tommy Hearns was stickin'
I hear niggas dissin', why you have to use Jay?
Let that man retire
Motherfucka its a new day
[Lil' Flip]
(State your name gangsta)
Lil' Flipper
(Where you representin'?)
Houston all day
(You gon' hold it down?)
You damn right
[Lil' Flip]
I take it back to the block, them automaitcs'll pop
You try to snatch my watch, yo dumbass gettin' shot
I got the block on lock, and when the shit get hot
Ima switch up spots, I'm your boy
I'm breakin' bread with my homies, I'm bustin' lead at you phonies
I fuck your bitch when she lonely
That's every other night
I flip your wife for the green
They call me Hustle Man
Nigga, my money too big for a rubber man
I'm a veteran giving fiends they medicine
I'm in Compton with Game bumpin' Let Me In
My nigga Will in the pen, he bout to come home
Hey tell these niggas I made a million of a ring tones
I got a spring home down in Tampa Bay
And I was raised out of Scarface and UGK
Now its my turn, I want that puff money
Matter 'fact that ain't even enough money
[Cassidy]
Yeah
(State your name gangsta)
Cassidy, nigga
(Where you representin'?)
Philly, Pennsylvania
(You gon' hold it down?)
You already know
[Cassidy]
The streets wave their head cast, cause they know the industry fear Cass
I got these chicks cryin' like tear gas
Used to sell dirt weed, couldn't even put it in clear bags
but years passed now my dubs puffy like air bags
You might see me out in Houston on Flip Block
With a ?? old school drop with the ripped top
Forget it I got shit locked, admit it my shit hot
I'm the bestest nigga since BIG, Pac
Out in tha Westcoast with Game, I let the toaster bang ya
Cut you more times than the cards in a pocker game
Cause most you lames when and saw my battle with Free
Now all you wanna battle for free
You see if you ain't got millions to bet, or put your deal on the desk
You ain't real and I don't feel you a threat
So I suggest you get off my dick and go vote or somethin'
'Fore you get the sawed off and tossed out a boat or somethin' (nigga)
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
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)
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
[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
[Game]
Fresh like, uhh, Impala, uhh
Crome hyrdolics, 808 drums
You don't want, none
Nigga betta, run
When beef is on, I'll pop that, drum
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
Sellin that skunk, one hand on my gun
I was sellin rocks when Master P was sayin Uhhhhhh
Buck pass the blunt
These G-Unit girls just wanna have, fun
Coke and rum
Got weed on the tongue
I'm bangin with my hand up her dress like, uhh
I'll make her cum, purple haze in my lungs
Whole gang in the front in case a nigga wanna, stunt
[50 Cent]
I put Lamborghini doors on that Es-co-lade
Lil pro so look like I'm riding on blades
In one year mang, a nigga's so paid
I have a straight bitch in the telly goin 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 rockin with the best tre pound on my hip
Teflon on my chest
They say I'm no good
Cuz I'm so hood
Rich folks do not want me around
Cuz 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
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
[Game]
I put gold Daytonas on that Cherry Six-Four
White walls so clean it's like I'm ridin on bulbs
Hit one switch mang, that ass so low
Cali got niggaz in New York ridin 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 rockin with the best four pound on my hip
Gold chain on my chest
[50 Cent]
50, uhh
Bentley, uhh
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
Thinkin I'm a punk
Get your fuckin 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
(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
Crome hyrdolics, 808 drums
You don't want, none
Nigga betta, run
When beef is on, I'll pop that, drum
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
Sellin that skunk, one hand on my gun
I was sellin rocks when Master P was sayin 'Unnnh'
Buck pass the blunt
These G-Unit girls just wanna have, fun
Coke and rum
Got weed on the ton
I'm bangin 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-co-lade
Lil pro so look like I'm riding on blades
In one year mang, a nigga's so paid
I have a straight bitch in the telly goin 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 rockin with the best tre pound on my hip
Teflon on my chest
They say I'm no good
Cuz I'm so hood
Rich folks do not want me around
Cuz 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 ridin on bulbs
Hit one switch mang, that ass so low
Cali got niggaz in New York ridin 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 rockin 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
Thinkin I'm a punk
Get your fuckin 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!)
[Verse 1]
I hear the oldies harking back to the old days
Work hard, respect your elders and the old ways
My grandma tells me about the war and her old mates
My great granddad barely ever told a soul, hey
Now his correspondence lay on pen and paper
But I find the cursive writing kinda hard to decipher
Apparently he joined in every annual veteran's march
My grandma reflects maybe he remembered too much
I wonder how much he could have forgotten if he tried
Fought for king and country's pride, twice he almost died
First time hair combed by a German bullet
And maybe that's why she became a hairdresser, I don't know
Left at 19 years of age
A country boy from Singleton way
Shipped to France, Wellard's the name
Anything but to be labeled as a shirker
the shame of being sent a white feather in a letter
Life is hell
[Verse 2]
Churchill don't know what he's doing in the Dardonelles
The newspapers sterilized til it's hard to tell
Say that General Hamilton is getting diggers mowed down at Lone Pine
Still they say 'there's no dying'
And mum the stench of death is so trying, well
We fall in line behind the British line
And hell is all around this 700 kilometre borderline
That's like a trench from Canberra to Melbourne, help me god
They're sending wounded men back to the front
While in the training camps fresh enlisters dormant for months
40 000 taken by trench foot, the feet rot
Knowing if you stick your head up you're for sure to be shot
Try hand to hand combat when it's pitch black and foggy
And unable to collect dead bodies, beyond sorry
Sorry for the sons of these nations, in death there's no war reparations
[Chorus] {x2}
Life is hell, this is hell
Write me soon, hope you're well
Len Hall Gallipoli veteran
Gently passed away thinking we learned not a thing
Played the Commonwealth cannon-fodder, his ominous words
That if he had to do it again, he'd fight for the Turks
And the facts made way for the mythology, like you remember Bondy's victory speech
Great granddad, would you believe we're the agressors now?
New technology, you should see all the weapons now
Listen closely when the diggers say that we're forgetting how
You shouldn't railroad your citizens to war unless you absolutely have to
Never sell a war you go to war to defend
More than alliances in support of your women and men
Only once has there been a direct threat
Forgetting wars that we still haven't left yet
The next Tojo or Hitler I don't know and who wants that close to home?
[Chorus] {x2}
And in those days, they measured by the metres gained
As then today, still measured by the metres gained
[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)
[Sheek Louch] + (The Game)
There comes a time, in every man's life
When he gon' have to decide, who he fuckin with
(You know what it is motherfucker)
Who you fuckin with
Them niggaz don't care about you
Them niggaz don't give a fuck about you
Why you rappin like that? This street music!
Yo, let's, talk about it what
Sheek'll throw the fiend on a nigga guarantee he won't walk up out it
('DJ Ski!') With my nickel plated; kinda old
But the muzzle that I use'll make this motherfucker updated
Puh, nigga please; if a nigga had your son
and had him lookin down the gun you wouldn't need to squeeze
Uh uh I don't know, don't wanna hear
about the money that you had, or what you did a long time ago
Yo yo the hood is mine; I don't gotta sell a lot
I just live off more points than the porcupines
Fuh-fuh feel me cousin?
Sheek been a problem before this D-Block shit started buzzin
Some'll say no he wasn't, he turned sick
With that women in your family can suck my dick
And I been red hot e'ry since
I ain't sayin I'm the best muh'fucker, I'm just workin with {?}
[Chorus: Sheek Louch - repeat 2X]
This is that Blood, Crip, Latin King shit
Every hustler pushin a whip
(Street music) What? (Street music) What?
(Street music) What? (Street music)
[The Game]
Nigga let's (Nu Jersey) talk about it what
Banks say he bustin his gun, but I never seen a spark come out it
Now now who's the wanksta?
At Hot 97 you called police then called for peace
D-d-dear Mr. Interscope, I'll put you in a scope
Burst rounds, you the first down like a {?}
Eh eh nigga choke, now the talk of New York
is Yayo die with 50's dick in his throat
G-G-G-shit a joke; Olivia's a man
And hot damn there's a fuckin lump in his throat
Spit brrrap in my sight
If I don't catch you, I'ma catch James Cruz or Chris Lighty
Now that that that's for snitchin
You don't run through Queens, you call 911 or Supreme
I'll put you on to Game, pull a gun on your team
This for Compton, that's for Queens, cause
[Chorus]
[Eazy E]
[Eazy E]
1 2 3 and to the 4
eazy mutherfuckin E with the crome to ya dome
cruising in my 64 ragtop
i got alotta juice alotta fuckin block
now when i hit that switch im bouncin
more bounce to the ounce and im clownin
keep the gat in my lap
cuz im fully strapped
for the carjackas ,but no haps cuz i pack the tech 9'
1 2 3 and to the 4
eazy mutherfuckin E with the crome to ya dome
cruisin in my 64 ragtop
i got alotta juice alotta fuckin block
now when i hit that switch im bouncin
more bounce to the ounce and im clownin
keep the gat in my lap
cuz im fully strapped
for the carjackas ,but no haps
cuz i pack the tech 9' plus an ak47
send a one way ticket to my hell or maybe heaven
peep nigga i dont sleep
bury mutherfuckers in the concrete
you try to creep kinda slow in the astro
but i peep you niggaz out in my left window
so i blast and i blast 'til i blast no more
yo they call a mutherfucker john doe
(chorus)3x
old nigga E still cruisin
cruisin down the street in my 64
(Game)
1, 2, 3 and to the 4
pumps in the trunk of that cherry red '64
im riding with the ghost of Eazy hoppin the leany
he watching for demons
nigga if you try me then im cocking the nina
begging lucifer to gimmie a reason
to have a hundred thou. cash brought down to the precinct
ima make bail money, this rap shit is a monopoly
and i got property, thats get out of jail money
nigga i came from poverty
shoot-outs, gang-banging, and robberies
car-jacking, snatching Mata's impalas
do that with or without the ... going inside of me
hop out the ride and empty the 45 into his body
im not to be fucked with
whether im straight out of Compton
or straight out of Cashville on that Young Buck shit
terrorizing Whoo Kid 24/7
'til 1 of you niggas put me with Eazy in heaven.
(chorus)3x
old nigga E still cruisin
cruisin down the street in my 64
(feat. Hot 97)
[Game: whispering]
Its Murder
[The Game: talking]
Is 07 shit
We runnin' through summers
in dual hummers
and tell them my crew coming for war
[Verse 1:]
Ay yooooooooooooooo!
I can't let the day go without lettin' the K go
Now watch his face blow, YAYO!
Heard you hidin' in the big apple
Better keep hidin' for them Puerto Ricans kidnap you
9-3 gangsta ties
Haitans down in Miami (zoe gang!)
yeah, them Haitins down in Miami
Fat Joe don't fuck with you, Nas don't like you
So who they gonna blame when the long nose snipe you
Potado on the muscle, black tape on the grip
We in the A-Team van with black tape on your bitch
She gonna tell us where you at
We gonna twist that dro'
and just wait 'til that rat come out the that hole
No, the streets ain't safe
When we see him we gonna eat that face
Nobody we gonna beat that case
Yeah, it's on again, two shots of patron I'm in
Drive slow and let the motherfuckin' chronic spin
[Chorus: The Game]
Out in the streets they call it murder (whispering: murder, murder, murderer kill, kill, kill...)
(You can't fuck with the real!)
Out in the streets they call it murder (murder, murder, murderer kill, kill, kill...)
(Nigga, don't cross the real!)
They call it murder They call it murder They call it murder
(murder, murder, murderer kill, kill, kill...)
They call it murder
(You can't fuck with the real!)
They call it murder They call it murder They call it murder They call it murder
(Nigga, don't cross the real!)
[Verse 2:]
What type of bitch niggaz put his hands on kids (Homo!)
Pull up that black van on his (Nope)
We don't do the kid slap, we do the kid snatchin'
Eyewitness news, there's been a kidnappin'
Feed 'em real good, takin' home to play with Harlem
Sit by the phone, just wait it's your daddy callin'
Naah, we don't get down like that
but 50's momma we'll put you in the ground like that
Cuuuurtisss
Tryin' to make peace with Dipset
but you ain't even address the beef with Jin yet
It's on now, better call dr. Ben and Russell
Set up a peace treaty or go get some muscle
Call the lighty brothers, call all your lil' flunkies
Call the snitch hotline and get the G-Unit monkeys
Call the cops, I'm still 100 miles an runnin'
Then call the God and tell him your ass is comin'
[Chorus: The Game]
Out in the streets they call it murder (murder, murder, murderer kill, kill, kill...)
(You can't fuck with the real!)
Out in the streets they call it murder (murder, murder, murderer kill, kill, kill...)
(Never cross the real!)
They call it murder They call it murder They call it murder
(murder, murder, murderer kill, kill, kill...)
They call it murder
(You can't fuck with the real!)
They call it murder They call it murder They call it murder They call it murder
(Never cross the real!)
[Verse 3:]
This ain't 'Ether', nah, this ain't 'Hit 'em up'
This is a lot of dead bodies, who gonna pick them up
We just shot the corner
Who gonna drive the truck
Fuck the whole G-Unit who lied to Buck
Fuck Spider too, now that's for Big Fase
I know where you countin' your sheeps
I'll have some Crips waitin'
youtube banger, tell me how that clip taste
You kiss Lakisha in that mouth, tell me how my dick taste
I got the crown nigga, it's going down nigga
and Los Angelesss - it's my town nigga!
I got a place where bodies don't get found nigga
Where the dead sleep and ghost don't make a sound nigga
The real 50 Cent, he knew Jimmy Henchmen, the real Jimmy Henchmen
Look at them niggaz flinchin'
We ain't gonna do shit
I'll have your crew sit [?]
So play like them is toy guns and this is just music
[Chorus: The Game]
Out in the streets they call it murder (murder, murder, murderer kill, kill, kill...)
(You can't fuck with the real!)
Out in the streets they call it murder (murder, murder, murderer kill, kill, kill...)
(Don't ever cross the real!)
They call it murder They call it murder They call it murder
(murder, murder, murder kill, kill, kill...)
They call it murder
(Niggaz can't fuck with the real!)
They call it murd... They call it murder They call it murder They call it murd...
(Don't fuck with the real!)
[The Game: talking]
It's Blackwall Street nigga!
Is 07, we can't be fuck with
Try and die, motherfuckers
I run the world, it's on!
Ah man..
Ey game.. dont tell me you love her
(I mean I like the bitch I dont love her)
Next thing you know you gun be all boogo upped with her and shit
(fuck that)
Chorus
Girl ill do anything to make you feel special
Man its easy to see you special to me
Whether we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special
L.A.X. to J.F.K. thats where it all happened
Caught you walkin out that gucci store in manhattan
I was in chains and cuffs, you was with cha girls
I was in that aftermath chain, you was in pearls
It was me against the world, baby girl
You had dreams of startdiling,
The prince of compton meets the queen of harlem
First date at mr choas it was coushier? I would coach ya
La Pearl, Guccie, Louie, Fendi, Prada, Dolce
Runnin circles in my living room, tearing up sofas
Meclarin or rover, fuck it ma lets tear up the highway
Let the sprewells spin till the plates fell off
Then we could go 1 on 1 at dres house
Jeans painted with the waist cut out
You rockin the fly way that lil bit of compton mixed with (bed sty way)'?
And girl im not trying to excite you,
Im tryna wife you, bamboo earing, white air nike you
Chorus
Girl ill do anything to make you feel special
Man its easy to see you special to me
Whether we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special
I like your style, like the way you move, the way you talk
The way you smile, the way you swingin them hips when you walk
The way you look, the way you ride when you workin them thighs
The way you licken your lips when you look in my eyes
You down for me, im down for you
You go down on me, ill go down on you
I wanna do all the things that your man wont do
Im from the hood, so I know how to handle you
Keep you in pink rocks and g-unit canvas shoes
Show you how to gangsta lean when the lambo move
Ill take you to new york city, atlanta too
Show you how to fly them birds and them hammers thru
And you know...
Chorus
Girl ill do anything to make you feel special
Man its easy to see you special to me
Whether we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special
Let me tell you bout the birds and bees
How I stand on the block all day and flip birds and keys
Your boyfriend dont like me, cause he dont get a fourth of my cheese
And you can take back the porsche and his keys
Hop in the range rover, you aint gotta force him to leave
I gotta chrome four four on my jeans
You got gucci frame covering the mark on your face
Cause he dont want you to leave and I dont want you to stay
Sometimes I wanna snatch that nigga out tha CLK
I know he treating you like k-ci did mary j
I wanna ease ya pain, kick off your Louie sandles
Let me wipe your tears with my g-unit bandana
Make me wanna peal you out them jeans when you rockin em
Its 'me and my girlfriend' like tupac and them
Jay-z and beyonce or bobby and whitney
We the '05 Bonnie and Clyde, you feel me
Chorus
Girl ill do anything to make you feel special
Man its easy to see you special to me
Whether we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special
Yall dont want it with the southside
(ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Yall dont want it with the southside
(Aint nothin, aint nothin, aint nothin, aint nothin, ayy)
Yall dont want it with the southside
(ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, crank it)
Yall dont want it with the southside
(ayy, ayy, aint nothin, aint nothin, ayy)
[Verse 1 - Lil Scrappy]
Ill leave your ass cripled
Like some frosted flakes
What you call it sneakin up
Tha man Jake the snake
Every nigga on the street
Got something to say
Until they get sprayed in the face
With a gay like mase
I dont hate the fagget
Lets get dashed and crunk
I was lifted by a precher
So my mom pushed weight
Now i hooked up wit game
Real nigga with flame
He show me cali love
And i aint in no game
Every nigga that role wit me
Betta keep it G'd
Ill put the verdebrate
Push a DDT
Lets get the sippi
Yall niggas aint even gifted
Bust a shot at your chin
Your top getting lifted
G's up get your G's up
Scrappy with your weed up
I fuck with g-unit
So yall sake get they ass lumped
Your homeboy really going
Through something
I cant change
I fuck hoes that would make
Mya look lame
[CHORUS]
[Verse 2 - Game]
The reallest of niggas
I role wit them killas (yeah)
The world gotta feel us
My clique is gorilla
You niggas in trouble
Im in the track with B-M-E cliqueing
You aint gotta know
Im sigend to Dre to know that he sick
P-89 thats what i handle my beef with
Put them hollow tips under your arms
Like speedstick
Ride through your hood
In a blue impala
Like we crips
Roll down the tints, G-Unit
Im a head busta, lil scrappy
When the lead touch ya
And they aint no comming back when you dead fucker
Sleep in your earn
And get eaten by worms
Trying to fight a fire with
Bottled water heat and get burned
They tampered my phones
Like D-R-E and the firm
Cuz im buzzing like WuTang
And it aint even my turn
So who it may concern
Youll get your whole mouth wide
Fuckin with them gang bangers
In the SOUTHSIDE
[CHORUS]
[Outro - Lil Scrappy (Game)]
Hey hold the muthafucker up mi nigga
(hold up)
This your boy little scrappy shorty
(BME) A-town (A-town)
Mi nigga game (Comptown)
You know, its westside (G-G-G-G) in this bitch
They want (G-G-G-G-G-G Unit) to get that ass hit
They wanna get that ass hit
Ayy, ayy, ayy, (G-G-G-G)
Who you lookin at?
Nah not me nigga
Who you lookin at?
Nah not me nigga
Who you lookin at?
Nah not me nigga
Im for real
Nah not me nigga
[CHORUS]
SOUTHSIDE [X2]
[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...
Not! [Echoing]
Blackwall Street
The Game
Beach Boy
Charli Baltimore (He Wears A Red Bandana)
Rockstar
We Are The Black Gang
Free Shye
Mother Fuckers! (He Wears A Red Bandana)
[Chorus:]
On The Front Of Murder Dog (He Wears A)
On The Cover Of The Source You See (He Wears A Red Bandana)
The Whole World Know (He Wears A)
Every Nigga In The Hood Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
50 Told The Nypd (He Wears A)
Why You Snitch On Me And Tell Em That (He Wears A Red Bandana)
All The Pirus Know (He Wears A)
Even My Crip Niggas Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
[Verse 1:]
Chea Chea
Dear God Let Me Clense My Soul
Throw Away All The Rims And The Gold
O No I Cant Do That
Do I Love God? True Dat
But I Got A Gun So Move Back
Im Loco Like 5 Eses In The Side Of Chevelle Ridin On Low Pros
Im A Renegade Ride With The 44
Been A Gangbanger All My Life, Fuck The Popo
I Aint Never Been A Cocky Kid
Know They Could Kill Me If They Shot Pac And Big
But I Let My Bandana Hang
In The City Of Angles We Gangbang
I Move That Chronic And Yayo
Way Before I Met 50, Banks, Buck And Yayo
Ask Eminem, Even Dr. Dre Know
I Put One In Last Ten In The Range Rov
Used To Push That Rock Like Jay Hov
You Better Lay Low When The Ak Blow
Or Get Wings And A Halo
Run To The Hood And Tell Em Im The Nigga They Gotta Pray For
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah
I Said Run To The Hood And Tell Em Im The Nigga They Gotta Pray For, Lay Low And Stay Low
[Chorus:]
On The Front Of Murder Dog (He Wears A)
On The Cover Of The Source You See (He Wears A Red Bandana)
The Whole World Knows (He Wears A)
Every Nigga In The Hood Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
50 Told The Nypd (He Wears A)
Why You Snitch On Me And Tell Em That (He Wears A Red Bandana)
All The Pirus Know (He Wears A)
Even My Crip Niggas Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
[Verse 2:]
Chea Chea
Im A Gangbanger Don't Get It Fucked Up
You Aint Never Bang, You Aint Never Laces Chucks Up
So How The Fuck You Gon Criticize Me
I Aint The Reason Niggas Is Bangin The Nyc
Makin Bullshit Threats On The M.I.C.
I Don't Wake Up In Cold Sweats When I Sleep
I Live Comfortably
With A Red Rag Tied Around The 45 In Case Nigga Try To Come For Me
Mad Cause I Started My Own Company
I Don't Know What The Fuck Niggas Want From Me
Except Something For Free
Before The Documentary Dropped, You Bitch Niggas Wasn't Bumpin Me
And To Some Degree
I Gotta Keep That 4-5th Under Me
I Don't Run From Beef
It's Either Cock Back, Squeeze, Or Be Underneath
Cause Im From The Streets Of (Compton)
And My Grandmother Died Before I Was Multi
Wasn't Raised Right Cause My Parents Was Both High
High Off Cocaine, My Introduction To The Dope Game Came In 85 Watchin Soul Train
Mama Told Me I Was The Future, And One Day I'll Be Fly Like Soul Plane
Just Don't Bang
But Back Then, I'd Do Anything For A Jerri-Curl And A Gold Chain
Niggas Always Got Something To Say
Like They Aint Never Bumped N.W.A.
Punk Niggas Talk Shit, But When They Need Hits They Swallow Their Fucking Pride And Come Runnin To Dre
Niggas Come To La When They Need To Talk
Cause Kanye Told Everybody Jesus Walks
Bush Killed More Niggas In The Towers Then Gangbanging Ever Did, That's Why They Need New York
[Chorus:]
On The Front Of Murder Dog (He Wears A)
On The Cover Of The Source You See (He Wears A Red Bandana)
The Whole World Knows (He Wears A)
Every Nigga In The Hood Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
50 Told The Nypd (He Wears A)
Why You Snitch On Me And Tell Em That (He Wears A Red Bandana)
All The Pirus Know (He Wears A)
Even My Crip Niggas Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
[Outro:]
Yeah Mother Fuckers
Chuck Taylor
O You Thought I Forgot About That Alias Huh
Im Going Back To My Roots
G-Unit Is Dead
As A Staff, A Record Label, And A Mother Fuckin Group
Your Clothes Cant Sell
Your Shoes Are Straight Garbage
Your Movies Suck!
Chicken Little Killed You Nigga
Hahahaha [Echos]
How You Like It Nigga
I Took Yo Style
I Aint Doin No Third Verse
Imma Just Talk To You Nigga
Like You Do When You Get Mad At Me Cause You Cant Fuck With Me Lyrically Mother Fucker!!!
You Gon Do One Of Those Sing Song Little Clucky Poppy Hooks
You Like The Rap Linsey Lohan You Fuckin Faggot
Write 8 Balls About Me Nigga
I Do This Shit All Day 50!
Curtis Jackson
Boo Boo
Marcus-snitch
Black Wall Street C. E. O. Mother Fuckas!
Hurricanes In Stores December 26th
Stop Snitchin Stop Lyin The Dvd In Stores December 6th
It's A Tell All Nigga
Wait Till My Movie Come Out
Im Glad It Aint Based On My Life
With That Knock Off 8 Mile Shit
You Could Never Be Eminem Mother Fucker
You Aint Lyrically Inclined Enough To Be Jay-Z, Nas, B.I.G. Or Pac
And In The Modern Day-today, Tomorrow, Next Week
You Cant Fuck With The Game Nigga!
New jersey devil
hahaha
dont worry about me
i aint no body
im jus go come sit down o..a...
by there n then ima get the fuck outt yo way so u can goo goo....im get all the way out the way ahhaa
bitchh
niggas gotta v12 engine out til i bust that chrome
screamin like that hollow tip crush that bones
when i call 50 banks young buck is on
they bring heavyy
[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]
yo yo yoyo yoooooooooo
i'm the game
the best
right before fame
kick your ass right, make you look lame,
rolli' a six deuce
with the deuce deuce fully loaded clip
make you look as bad as lil flip
i got the coke stack
and you better watch your back
im hustlin' the best coke,
im mackin' on the finest hoez
and i got the best impala on dros
rollin 13 by 7's
chrome wires
so dont make me come up to your crib with my pliers
mack on your bitch
while just hittin on one switch
west coast bitch!!!
'I hope yall got yall playa's card cause yall aint getting in unless ya do
[Chorus:]
Playa's only where them chicks be checkin their bodies
Up in the club where they get real naughty
They come from here to the private parties where there aint nothing but
Playa's only where the playa's be spinnin a lot of do
Honies got ass bouncing on the flow
This is how we behind the playa's do
[R. Kelly]
(She on the floor) surrounded by them playa's and thugs
(She on the floor) the girls gone round in the clubs
(In V.I.P.) Got drough with a bottle of bub
(She don't care) Shakin ass just throwin em up
I'd really like to get to know her the way she warms her
Bodie up now she heated got me heated up
I can find I really wanna beat it up
So her how I hit the bottle and spend it up
You don't gotta worry bout being alone
Cause tonight we'll be together in my home
Exit out the club bouncin our domes
Got that red coupe matchin the chrome
Put that body in motion motion
And watch it wave like ocean ocean
Now break it down and warm it warm it
Now bring it up and shake it shake it
[Chorus:]
Playa's only where them chicks be checkin their bodies
Up in the club where they get real naughty
Take um from here to the private parties where there aint nothing but
Playa's only where the playa's be spinnin a lot of dough
Honies got ass bouncing on the floor
This is how we behind the playa's door
[Game]
I'm still fresh like uh impala uh
Dre's young guns still ridin the base drums (Chisha)
Four times platinum hate it or love it I'm still number one
Still in the hood one hand on my gun
Have my trigger finger still make b**hes cum
I mean the one with the ring and the tounge
Compton uh Kelly found her in the slums
Shakin that rump both hands on the pumps
In the home with me I'll have your girl yellin uhhh
Kell's my b*** drunk but until girlfriend still wanna have fun
Pass the blunt let her drink red rum
Bet she aint never seen a penthouse at the Trump
Me and R been around the world and we'll give it to you just how u like it girl
[R. Kelly]
Girl you on a mission step in club shuttin down competition
The way you walk it talk it switch it
And when the doors close handle yur business
Now make your booty go
(boom boom boom boom) Break it down now
(boom boom boom boom) Bring it up now
(boom boom boom boom) Push it back girl
(boom boom boom boom) Now shake shake it shake it shake it
Out the club in the coupe to the mansion
We gone get bent up to the morning
Layin back in the chair while you wind it
Lap dance on me girl bump and grind it
We gone do it till we drop it until the part stop we gone keep it hot
[Chorus:]
Playa's only where them chicks be checkin their bodies
Up in the club where they get real naughty
Take um from here to the private parties where there aint nothing but
Playa's only where the playa's be spinnin a lot of do
Honies got ass bouncing on the flow
This is how we behind the playa's do
I like it when you flip that bump that roll that
shake that drop that rope that Make it go clap clap
I like it when you flip that bump that roll that/
shake that drop that rope that Make it go clap clap
[Chorus:]
Playa's only where them chicks be checkin their bodies
Up in the club where they get real naughty
Take um from here to the private parties where there aint nothing but
Playa's only where the playa's be spinnin a lot of do
Honies got ass bouncing on the flow
This is how we behind the playa's do
[Justo]
What up? I be the one they call Justo if you didn't know
Trying to check my man DJ Skee with his new mix-tape
Pick it up you square, you heard what I'm said?
[The Game]
It's another sad day in Hip-Hop
We lost another one of our brothers, Justo Faison
We love you, and we'll always miss you
Mix-Tape King, forever
[Chorus]
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
[Verse 1]
I picked up my pen four years from the date
Never thought I'd be rapping, and be signed to Dre
Never been to New York, I had to find a way
So I dropped 40 bars on the Clue mix-tape
On the Birdman beat, then my name started buzzing
Aftermath's young gun, and now everybody love him
I hooked up with Gavin, Foxy's little brother
He took me to Kay Slay, and Slay put me on the cover
Drama King, I should of known, 'cause all of the sudden
MC's calling my name and I'm beefing with Joe Budden
That beef came and went, I got at him over Colors
Then caught him at Def Jam and found out, it was nothing
Looked back at my career, staring out at the City
Thinking about the biddin' war between Dre and Diddy
If I was signed to Bad Boy, would 50 be on the Math?
Probably not but maybe Justo wouldn't have crashed
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
I remember when Funk Flex first heard me flow
And sway let me freestyle on the wakeup show
Spit over 100 bars then Miss Jones started to host
That's when they start showing me love on the east coast
Then more people found out I was with Dre
And at bodegas I'm on 9 outta 10 of the mix-tapes
I'm workin' on my album and the world can't wait
Cover of the Vibe, and I ain't even have a release date
Then I met Justo he told me if I stay hungry
I'd go platinum and nobody can take that from me
He joked about my rap beefs, I thought it was funny
Gave him a pound then slid him 200 Bars and Runnin'
Went upstairs to change, got dinner at five
Went to Houston's and that's the first time I met Nas
Had Billboard with me and two months later he died
So this is what it sounds like when thugs cry
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
Markin' off days on the calendar I can't even sleep
Like a convict, waitin' on January 18th
When the Documentary dropped, it flooded the streets
My mix-tape buzz made me gold the first week
Double platinum in two months
Record labels getting' scared
Cause the kid from Compton selling like Sunny and Cher
Mix-Tape awards came around, glad I was there
To get my award, Mix-Tape Artist of the Year
Stepped on stage, and Justo let 'em know
You might as well crown him the new kind of the West Coast
A couple of months passed we ain't speak
My Sidekick went off 'Justo Rest in Peace'
I let everybody from Snoop to Busta know
A car crash just claimed the life of Justo
They say the good die young, if you know like I know
Live your life to the fullest one day we all gotta go
[The Game]
Give a moment of silence
If you're wearing a Fitted Cap take it off
If you driving, pull over to the side of the road
We lost an underground legend
Justo Faison
Mix-tape King
Rest in Peace
[Intro]
You niggas is soldiers man
Fuckin' toy soldiers
Yeah get in line cadet
Aten Hut!
Yayo you punk ass bitch.
I know you cant wait to get off house arrest nigga.
So you can run the fuck outta New York, you faggot
[Chorus]
Niggas tryna play the game with 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
Why you tryna play the game with 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
Can't play the game with only 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
So why you tryna play the game with only 50 Cent
Come back when you got a couple dollars holla.
[Verse 1]
You gonna need more than 50 Cent to play this game
Nigga hating on me cause I'm doin my own thang
I aint Lloyd Banks, bitch. I dont share your brain
I was in the fast lane before the G-Unit chain
You was hatin on Ja cause him and Irv went pop
now your ass run around singing the Candy Shop
After 'Westside Story' I took your fans
I sing it for myself that bitch Olivia's a man.
I got word from the wise nigga you dead wrong
stole the real 50's name and wouldn't pay for his headstone
Nigga got mad when 'How We Do' start climbin
acting like a bitch cause he Got Rich and Stop Tryin'
Got niggas locked up you a snitch in Queens
Told them Touch shot Pac then ratted out Supreme
But on the rizeal im talkin about you and me
Toe to toe 5-0 C-E-N-T, faggot
Banks is a bitch
50 is a bitch
Yayo is a bitch
Buck is a bitch
Olivia's a bitch... no Olivia's a man, haha
God damn
[Verse 2]
You reported more names than the evening news
I guess now Reebok making cement shoes
Yayo the only real mutha fucka from the street
You swinging on me like you want 5 heartbeats
Ok. One. Two. Three. Four, flat line
If you say you wrote my shit one more time
You ain't a hood nigga, you Got Rich and Stop Tryin
Jimmy scared Chris Lighty and he start lying
Lil' snitch what you know about movin' in silence?
Even NYPD can't deny it
The life of your story is fuckin' Vivica
But your baby mama left you cause you couldn't get it up, bitch
Yayo went to jail
Banks sold a mil
then Buck sold a mil
then 50 gave a deal
to a bitch named Oliviawhose titties aint real
Now they all hiding behind the police shield
[Chorus]
[Outro]
G-G-G-G-you niggas aint shit, bitch ass niggas
I told you this shit was real, nigga
This is Fat Rat nigga, mutha fucka
All you get up on there is sing a few hooks
Nigga you wanna claim a niggas fame, nigga
You was our Ashanti, you bitch ass nigga
What the fuck is you talkin about you wrote something nigga
The Real is the real, nigga
Black Wallstreet, nigga
The Black Wallstreet, nigga
Gonna tell your bitch ass nigga
I aint gunna get up on this mic and play them games, nigga
I told my nigga lemme get that last 16, nigga
Im Rapping right now, nigga
But im spitting it real nigga
You know who im talkin to nigga
50, nigga
Bitch ass nigga
Black Wallstreet, nigga
Brasil and Wimelton
What block you on, nigga?
We'll be there!
What block you on?
Scary ass nigga
Fuck this shit man
Niggas woke me up with that bullshit, nigga
[Intro:]
Not! [Echoing]
Blackwall Street
The Game
Beach Boy
Charli Baltimore (He Wears A Red Bandana)
Rockstar
We Are The Black Gang
Free Shye
Mother Fuckers! (He Wears A Red Bandana)
[Chorus:]
On The Front Of Murder Dog (He Wears A)
On The Cover Of The Source You See (He Wears A Red Bandana)
The Whole World Know (He Wears A)
Every Nigga In The Hood Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
50 Told The Nypd (He Wears A)
Why You Snitch On Me And Tell Em That (He Wears A Red Bandana)
All The Pirus Know (He Wears A)
Even My Crip Niggas Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
[Verse 1:]
Chea Chea
Dear God Let Me Clense My Soul
Throw Away All The Rims And The Gold
O No I Cant Do That
Do I Love God? True Dat
But I Got A Gun So Move Back
Im Loco Like 5 Eses In The Side Of Chevelle Ridin On Low Pros
Im A Renegade Ride With The 44
Been A Gangbanger All My Life, Fuck The Popo
I Aint Never Been A Cocky Kid
Know They Could Kill Me If They Shot Pac And Big
But I Let My Bandana Hang
In The City Of Angles We Gangbang
I Move That Chronic And Yayo
Way Before I Met 50, Banks, Buck And Yayo
Ask Eminem, Even Dr. Dre Know
I Put One In Last Ten In The Range Rov
Used To Push That Rock Like Jay Hov
You Better Lay Low When The Ak Blow
Or Get Wings And A Halo
Run To The Hood And Tell Em Im The Nigga They Gotta Pray For
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah
I Said Run To The Hood And Tell Em Im The Nigga They Gotta Pray For, Lay Low And Stay Low
[Chorus:]
On The Front Of Murder Dog (He Wears A)
On The Cover Of The Source You See (He Wears A Red Bandana)
The Whole World Knows (He Wears A)
Every Nigga In The Hood Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
50 Told The Nypd (He Wears A)
Why You Snitch On Me And Tell Em That (He Wears A Red Bandana)
All The Pirus Know (He Wears A)
Even My Crip Niggas Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
[Verse 2:]
Chea Chea
Im A Gangbanger Don't Get It Fucked Up
You Aint Never Bang, You Aint Never Laces Chucks Up
So How The Fuck You Gon Criticize Me
I Aint The Reason Niggas Is Bangin The Nyc
Makin Bullshit Threats On The M.I.C.
I Don't Wake Up In Cold Sweats When I Sleep
I Live Comfortably
With A Red Rag Tied Around The 45 In Case Nigga Try To Come For Me
Mad Cause I Started My Own Company
I Don't Know What The Fuck Niggas Want From Me
Except Something For Free
Before The Documentary Dropped, You Bitch Niggas Wasn't Bumpin Me
And To Some Degree
I Gotta Keep That 4-5th Under Me
I Don't Run From Beef
It's Either Cock Back, Squeeze, Or Be Underneath
Cause Im From The Streets Of (Compton)
And My Grandmother Died Before I Was Multi
Wasn't Raised Right Cause My Parents Was Both High
High Off Cocaine, My Introduction To The Dope Game Came In 85 Watchin Soul Train
Mama Told Me I Was The Future, And One Day I'll Be Fly Like Soul Plane
Just Don't Bang
But Back Then, I'd Do Anything For A Jerri-Curl And A Gold Chain
Niggas Always Got Something To Say
Like They Aint Never Bumped N.W.A.
Punk Niggas Talk Shit, But When They Need Hits They Swallow Their Fucking Pride And Come Runnin To Dre
Niggas Come To La When They Need To Talk
Cause Kanye Told Everybody Jesus Walks
Bush Killed More Niggas In The Towers Then Gangbanging Ever Did, That's Why They Need New York
[Chorus:]
On The Front Of Murder Dog (He Wears A)
On The Cover Of The Source You See (He Wears A Red Bandana)
The Whole World Knows (He Wears A)
Every Nigga In The Hood Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
50 Told The Nypd (He Wears A)
Why You Snitch On Me And Tell Em That (He Wears A Red Bandana)
All The Pirus Know (He Wears A)
Even My Crip Niggas Know (He Wears A Red Bandana)
[Outro:]
Yeah Mother Fuckers
Chuck Taylor
O You Thought I Forgot About That Alias Huh
Im Going Back To My Roots
G-Unit Is Dead
As A Staff, A Record Label, And A Mother Fuckin Group
Your Clothes Cant Sell
Your Shoes Are Straight Garbage
Your Movies Suck!
Chicken Little Killed You Nigga
Hahahaha [Echos]
How You Like It Nigga
I Took Yo Style
I Aint Doin No Third Verse
Imma Just Talk To You Nigga
Like You Do When You Get Mad At Me Cause You Cant Fuck With Me Lyrically Mother Fucker!!!
You Gon Do One Of Those Sing Song Little Clucky Poppy Hooks
You Like The Rap Linsey Lohan You Fuckin Faggot
Write 8 Balls About Me Nigga
I Do This Shit All Day 50!
Curtis Jackson
Boo Boo
Marcus-snitch
Black Wall Street C. E. O. Mother Fuckas!
Hurricanes In Stores December 26th
Stop Snitchin Stop Lyin The Dvd In Stores December 6th
It's A Tell All Nigga
Wait Till My Movie Come Out
Im Glad It Aint Based On My Life
With That Knock Off 8 Mile Shit
You Could Never Be Eminem Mother Fucker
You Aint Lyrically Inclined Enough To Be Jay-Z, Nas, B.I.G. Or Pac
And In The Modern Day-today, Tomorrow, Next Week
You Cant Fuck With The Game Nigga!
[Intro]
Dre, I see dead people
Yo Dre, thought I was dead
West Coast
[Verse 1]
I'm the doctor's advocate, nigga Dre shot cha
Brought me back from the dead, that's why they call him the Doctor
The Math gonna drop him and 50 ain't rockin
With him no more, It's okay, I get it poppin
Whole club rockin like a 6-4 Impala
Drink Cris', throw it up, call the shit hydraulics
Then piss in a cup, call the shit Hypnotiq
I bleed Compton, spit crack and shit Chronic
And you new niggaz ain't shit but new niggaz
Bathing Ape shoe niggaz, I'm talking to you niggaz
Bounce in the 6-4, throwing up Westside man
Sell another five million albums, Yes I am
Fresh like damn, this nigga did it again
A hundred thousand on his neck, LA above the brim
Inside the lambo, shotgun with snoop
What would the motherfuckin' west coast be without one crip and
[Chorus]
One blood {*4X*}
Blood {*9X*}
One blood {*4X*}
[Verse 2]
I'm from the west side of the 6-4 Impala
Where niggaz say where you from, we don't ever say holla
Bandana on the right side, gun on the left side
Niggaz in New York know how to throw up the west side
Word to Eazy, I'm so ill, believe me
I made room for Jeezy, but the rest of you niggaz
Better be glad you breathin, All I need is one reason
I'm the king and Dre said it, the west coast need me
I don't know why you niggaz keep tryin me
Everybody know that I'm the aire to the Aftermath dynasty
And I ain't gotta make shit for the club
What DJ gonna turn down a 38 snub
You 38 and you still rappin? Ugh
I'm 26 nigga, so is the doves
In the '07 Hummer, hop out, nobody dodge
When the chronic smoke clear, all you gonna hear is
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
I ain't got beef with 50, no beef with Jay
What's beef when you getting head in the 6-Tre
And the double game chains, I keep 'em on display
Black t-shirt so all you see is the A
Turn on the TV and all you see is the A
You niggaz better make up a dance and try and get radio play
Keep on snapping your fingers, I ain't going away
I don't regret what I spit cause I know what I say
And niggaz talking bout me, they don't know when to stop
I got the Louis Vuiton beltbuckle holding the glock
No bean, no silencer, I know when to pop
Wait til Lil' Jon come on and let off a shot
I had the number 1 billboard spot
Niggaz stepped on my fingers and I climbed right back to the top
I'm Big, I'm Cube, I'm Nas, I'm Pac
This ain't shit but a warning until my album drops
[Chorus] - 2X
[Intro]
Don't be the girl that i write about
With your eyes so shut you can't figure out why
Fires burn when you touch the flame
I'm safer making such an outragous clam
Your not ready for this shit to go down
Shot in the tank when you went out of town
with a frown, and a cent, and a promise to grim
Right away you felt brave
Oh my God its the best
(Chorus)
Pull the trigger
Now your making the rules
I should of figured you'd break out the tools
My heart beats heavy
As the news hits
(Verse)
Put the gun down
You've settled the score
One more murder and you'll lose it for sure
My memory cant take it
I'll tell them all i did this
(Breakdown)
So now your the girl i'll write about
So let me climb this chair
And i'll vagely shout
She'll probably never let me live this down
Why cant you discover what i wish to uncover
Two years down and a blood stained carpet
How can something so perfect be so hard and ironicly safe
Both of us from what were both trying to do without
(Chorus)
Pull the trigger
Now your making the rules
I should of figured you'd break out the tools
My heart beats heavy
As the news hits
(Verse)
Put the gun down
You've settled the score
One more murder and you'll lose it for sure
My memory cant take it
I'll tell them all i did this
Oh yea thats right
I'll get it out
I'll sing this crazy thing out
Oh burn it down on the beat (on the beat)
Please make me worthy babe (worthy babe)
You will need me,
Im calling out your name babe
Im worthy babe
Like all the same
But what were you looking for
I'm worthy babe like all the same
(Demon Voice)
New Jersey Devil
(the game)
Yeah muthafuckers
It's the muthafuckin Game
gu, gu,...gu,gu,gu,gu, G-Unit
I got a hundred guns and a hundred clips
Nigga I'm in New York (New York)
Wit a hundred Bloods and a hundred Crips,
Whenever I'm in New York (New York)
I got a hundred guns and a hundred clips Nigga, I'm in New York (New York)
Ride wit a hundred Bloods and a hundred Crips
Whenever I'm in New York (New York)
Everybody wanna know why he got beat
'Cause in my dreams I talked to 'Pac and B.I.G.
Got on the plane hopin that the NYC
It's me behind these bars like Chi-Ali
Niggaz want me to D-i-e
Been there done that
Woke up from a coma on 3 IV's
Eyes on the thrown, somebody in my seat
Fiddlin with rap like Miri Ben-ari
I scoop up swiss(beats), drive thru the Bronx and get Jada on the phone
My next stop is Yonkers
After that its Harlem, why?
'Cause im a certified gangsta
And Jim Jones' throwin a Blood party
Red bandanas from 93rd to 115th and Lennex
It's the sequel to Menace
Oh Lord he then went 'Oh dog'
Made 50's beef his and knocked 'em both off
[Chorus]
New aftermath chain on, master bling
Stones yellow and black he a Latin King
Mira me king ton el jefe Simone
Translation: I get money off ringtones
King Blood, even know I used to sling drugs when i see snoop he tell me 'Keep doin your thing cuz'
I do it because I love it
Do it for the niggaz that don't know the difference between 'Chuck Taylors' and chuckers
I'm a gangsta tell Remi Martin I wanna fuck her
Thats what I call a championship game out in ruckers
Ja rule want beef, change the subject
You ain't got no stars like the flag of the Dominican Republic
After Angie's show I was fiendin to get a bus
And catch a cab to a house and ask any nigga hustlin
I ain't got to live in New York all my life to know the A and B train go to Washington Heights
[Chorus]
Left the VMA awards, went back to the hood
Streets is talkin, Game got slapped by suge
False, I was face to face wit him
Media wanna criticize the game
Like he had Ma$e wit him
He a hood nigga that ain't ever try to snake niggaz
Walk thru the 5 boroughs never had jake with him
Bake it any way you want, ain't no cupcake in him
Even Diddy know, I make the city glow
Never had an album, never had his own video
I was sellin crack while Ja was watchin 50 blow
White tee shirt, converse and my dickies on
Signed wit Dre recorded 150 songs
Now the fuckin hip hop police hatin
tryin to run me outta New York like Anthony Mason
Nigga I'll come and erase you
Only nigga from california
That'll come from the tongue wit a razor
[Chorus]
[Intro-- 50 Cent]
Baby this is real shit
my record sell slow I'm show you my dick (repeats 7x)
[The Game]
Hit a breakdown
No 400 bars yet, I don't need that
I'm gas, your whole click is ass, I mean that
G-Unot cocksucker, better believe that
I say it one time, watch the whole world scream back
G-U-N-O-T, now thats for Billboard, rest in peace
And since my nigga died, I been stress no sleep
Contemplating suicide in my Lexus jeep
I tried twice but I couldn't make my death complete
I guess you could say Mya got the best of me
Came back from the dead to address the beef
Kiss my converse bitch and accept defeat
Cause I hate it when bullies try to test the weak
Thats when I go bishop and juice and start flexin heat
You could get it in the stomach just like Raheem
Cause running with a snitch is not quite my thing
I tried to take Buck with me, but he stayed on the scene
Guess all I can do now is pray for Supreme
While I finish my next album, 5 million and countin
Anticipating, tellin the world I did it without him
If Aftermath was a family that didn't have a mother
I'd be Dre's newborn, you'd be the jealous older brother
Yea, daddy love us but in the meanwhile
You talkin behind his back and in his face you smile
You moved out the house, You a failure now
And lil' Game grew up to be a problem child
I whip yo head boy, that's for Kanye West
I whip yo head boy, with the back of my tech
Yeap, your fuckin group fell flat without me
You mad, what you gonna do rap about me?
Your bars is park garbage, hooks is mediocre
And your new shoes look like Reebok pennyloafers
Try to walk in my shoes a block
Hurricanes in stores the day after Christmas, nigga fuck Reeboks
You a steroid addict, you need Detox
Hopefully you make it out in time to be on Detox
Cause BlackWallstreet expandin, yea I bought 3 blocks
My *CL* so *Smooth*, it should of came with Pete Rock
And lets not forget who made me hot
It was Dr. Dre that took me out the weed spot.
You want credit, forget it, I did it on my own
Gave you 300 bars, then said I'm gone
But I'm back, this is rap and a fact is a fact
They say once you turn snitch, you never go back
Heres a picture of Ja Rule, motherfucker hold that
What goes around comes around, get used to the gold plaques
Homie got cheese, but he don't feed no rats
I show the world my dick if Lloyd Banks go plat
I'm lyrically insane, Lloyd Banks know that
He told me I was like a Big Daddy Kane throwback
Started with 1 brick, built my own company
And don't spread news about it unless it come from me
Guess whos the boss, nigga my squad deep
But Glasses Malone is not signed to BlackWallstreet
Nigga don't, don't, don't, don't, don't believe the hype
Hear that Mike?
And don't be alarmed, this is not a diss
But missusing my logo kinda got me pissed
And I got enough beef, now Lil' Eazy dissin
He don't write his own raps, so I gotta forgive him
I got love for ya pops and I always will
So on behalf of Eric Wright, my nigga you gotta chill
I'm the reason you new westcoast nigga's got a deal
While I was doin mixtapes, they was watching College Hill
For real, you motherfuck's ain't got half my skill
I run this shit like OJ and pass for the bills
Trying so hard to be a gangsta, nigga you seethrough
Posing like 50 on the cover of the GQ
Button up shirt with the cut off sleeves
I got twin desert eagles, nigga suck on these
I got that CEO flow, yeah my bars are sweet
Like Hova in Takeover, chewin out Mobb Deep
Like Pac on Hit Em Up, chewin out Mobb Deep
Don't one of you niggas got sickas cell, fuck your talk is cheap
When I see you, and I'm gonna see you
I'm strip you down asshole naked and thats how I'm leave you
Then I'm find Havoc, make him walk through Queens nude
With Black Wallstreet tattooed on his back
Nigga's signed to G-unit, now they bustin guns
But last week it was: 'My nigga Game, what up dun?'
See thats what the fuck I mean, you can't trust these rap niggas
And you wonder why I always say fuck these rap niggas
So I'm break it down for MC's and friends
If you don't hear your name, let the beef begin
Ain't got shit against Hov, I like the nigga style
Nas is my nigga, I been bangin him for a while
I fuck with Fat Joe, he got the streets locked
And thats the same reason I fuck with Kiss and D-Block
Place Eminem in the number 3 spot
And Snoop is like my big brother, we both raised by the Doc.
Young Jeezy you hot, we both new to this
While I'm in the ATL, shout out to Ludacris
Cause your uncle Scarface show me that crime pays
Just like Paul Wall got me 'sittin sideways'
And I can't forget about the homie Mike Jones
Who? Mike Jones, Skeet screw the fuckin song
I fuck with Slim Thug and my nigga Bun B
Can't do that without saying free pimp c
And thats the reason why 50 try to pimp me
So I went window shoppin and bought 2 Bentleys
I'm in the drivers seat, motherfucker don't tempt me
Turnin Spider Loc against me, cause your scared to come get me
Cuz know whats up, Bloods still got love for em'
Come to the block, I'll shake off the rub for em'
Ask for G-Unit, motherfucker its a rap
Ma$e made it out alive, thank God for that
If Dipset don't get you, Jesse Jackson will
And if all else fails, I'll see you in hell
Wear that G-Unit spinner when you come to L.A.
I have a nigga parkin cars, dressed up like valet
He gonna turn back pastor when the gun in his face
The real chain still in Chicago when I'm takin the fake
You can call who you want, I ain't givin back shit
Unless Olivia show the whole world she got a dick
Can't seem to save her life, but she talk a lot of shit
And I want my 10 G's cause Yayo caught a brick
I guess my G-Unot tattoo was a smart move
Cause in the end you lost a 100 Mil. to a cartoon
3 years after you got tatted by cartoon
The beef is over, G-Unit is gonna fall apart soon
[Outro]
Hahahahaha
Faggot ass niggas
I guess I win nigga
Life is a game of chess nigga...
Some King, Some Queens
Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo, Young Buck, Pastor fuckin Ma$e
You niggas is pawns
50, or Boo Boo, or Curtis, or Chicken Little, Hahaha
Stop Snitchin, Stop Lying!, In Stores December 6th
The DVD, Its a tell all motherfuckers
Yea, my documentaries be better than your movies nigga, Hahaha
I drove by your house nigga
Go buy the DVD, $16,99 nigga
At your local record store, Blockbuster, Sam Goody, Warehouse
Shout out to the moms and pops, for helping me slay dem faggots.
G-gu-g-g-gu, G-gu-g-g-gu, G-gu-g-g-gu, G-UNOT! Hahahaha
Pop off nigga, Hahahaha, Pop off
It's me, The G-A-M-E, gone
[Intro] Billboard Talking
This ma nigga from way back since we was kids
like no what am saying we something like you could
say a gangbanging dynasty or something like
no what am saying cause his older brother Big Face
and ma older cousin they ran together so they hocked us
up together when we was lil kids no what am saying
we both know so we used to spit but he would take it more serious
than me no what am saying I was fucking up like getting in and out of jail and shit no what am saying but he made it happen he came back and got me like he said he would no what am saying its Black Wall Street me and the Game
Game talking
We could never be friends
nah never be friends
[Verse 1]
Yeah yo I walk through the valley of death
Vest on, Teflon nine approached in my Hurricane sweats
Black chrome my shoulder, big wheel ‘till it's over
He never got to see me put black chrome on the Rova
Reading your obituary wishing we never met
So I wouldn’t have to shed tears or wake up in cold sweats
Lookin’ at this bottle of Hennessy wishing you never left
Wishing I chased your Monte Carlo down and gave you my vest
Or better yet I wish they never let you out
And I never got that phone call tellin’ me that you out
Wish you never signed the release form
I wouldn’t have had to clear this sample or use this track to say rest in peace for
You wanted to know if Dre and Em felt you they did
fore I could tell you someone killed you
I feel pain for everyone that ever knew the real you
Call Nas let him know I got an air will too
[Chorus]
Ma nigga if you look in the mirror
Would you see things clearer
ma nigga who are you
Ha ma nigga do you know where you headed
Do you know who you are why you do the thing you do
You ma nigga
Ma nigga if you look in the mirror
Would you see things clearer
ma nigga who are you(who are you)
ma nigga do you know where you headed
Do you know who you are why you do the thing you do
You ma nigga
[Verse 2]
Nigga’s politicin’ wanna know why I'm rhymin' different
My best friend got murdered, nigga ma mind is different
If you ain't never spent no time in prison
You can't understand these bars or the lines I'm spittin'
Nigga's rallin' me up let's go find a victim
I can’t do it homie that’s the reason Shyne in prison
And through devine intervention ten plus years doing crime in the trenches
Multiply by the time we spent in the kitchen
And that’s a life worth of hard livin’, Cuban cigar tippin’
Twelve grey ditichin’ purple serve by the jar sippin’
If you lost a homie you know friendship is God given
I’ve done seen the church so much you'd think I was born Christian
I’ve done seen more dead bodies than a mortician
Seen nigga’s in and out of county blues like they was born cripin’
So I’m a keep on livin’ cause when I’m gone nigga’s ain’t gonna do shit
But fuck my bitch and pour liquor
[Chorus]
Ma nigga if you look in the mirror
Would you see things clearer
ma nigga who are you (who are you) (who are you)
Ha ma nigga do you know where you headed
Do you know who you are why you do the thing you do
You ma nigga
Ma nigga if you look in the mirror
Would you see things clearer
ma nigga who are you(who are you) (who are you)
ma nigga do you know where you headed
Do you know who you are why you do the thing you do
You ma nigga
[Verse 3 ]
What if you was me and you had to sit through a whole funeral
Why a pastor reading your homeboys eulogy
I'm already dead what the fuck you gonna do to me
Keep talking shit a empty ma clip and that g-unit T
Give me a minute to say ma grace with God
A see his face in the mirror I came a long way to talk
And tell you your mom's is missing you your pop's is missing you
Just saw your baby picture in your grandmother’s living room
Face is missing you homey Reek is missing you
Thank god you left us memories and songs to listen to
Vel is missing you the hood is missing you
Let ma son graduate high school and am a come visit you
The world is missing you Eminem was feeling you
Dre said he felt you vibe the lil time he spent with you
Pour the Hennie out cause he aint here in the physical
They say real men don’t cry but nigga am missing you
[Chorus]
Ma nigga if you look in the mirror
Would you see things clearer
ma nigga who are you (who are you) (who are you)
Ha ma nigga do you know where you headed
Do you know who you are why you do the thing you do
You ma nigga
Ma nigga if you look in the mirror
Would you see things clearer
ma nigga who are you(who are you) (who are you)
ma nigga do you know where you headed
Do you know who you are why you do the thing you do
You ma nigga
[Outro] Billboard talking
The first day I got... the first day I got out of fucking jail
no what am saying the nigga Pill and no what am saying
everything is still fresh to a nigga man am doing videos
with Cam’ Ron and the game no what am saying like
fucking bitches and shit in the studio but like no what am saying
but it was like kinda crazy when I first came home but I adapted
to it now I love it no what am saying im straight outta Compton
ma nigga and done been to uh New York Harlem everywhere
all through that mutha fucka Miami Atlanta Detroit I been fucking with Eminem and Dre and 50 and all kinda nigga's like no what am saying
a been moving man
(chops on the track motherfuckers!)
[chorus]-the game
cherry 64 (my lowrider) hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
chrome hydraulics, The all black impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
three-wheelin the 64 (my lowrider) hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
chrome hydraulics, The all black impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
[verse 1]-techniec
I see em trynna shine like tech/
cause I shine like I be grinding on the set/ got the diamonds on my neck/
most talked about when I hit that strip/ watch it bounce when I hit that dip/
come to close might get that clip/ click BANG/
don't trip, tech don't slip/ lets up the road go get my bitch/
get my grip, talk my shit/ hit my switch and dip/
switchin lanes on them day to day/ same color as that candy paint/
tangerine
[verse 2]-e-40
I tried to never sober/ chalupa, longer then a roller coster/
out hear a head a hub a head and do ya for quarter ounce of yollup/
Venomos snakes, like some cobras/ up top is where im from/
We be lettin our nuts hang over our shoulders/ figure 8 and go n duck/
droppin with all 4 doors open, gassin and brakin and yolkin/
we hyphy, we stupid valeho, richmond, frisco , Oakland/
we 9ers, we raiders/ we some hustlers and some players/
we've got 64s and low lows, but most of us rider scrapas/
[verse 3]-crooked i
lord forgive me/it in me to sent me to tote semi's/
grope penny and remy/ my pockets was so skinny/
now I blow pennies on 4 hemi's/
run the whole city/hoes, I put dough before any/
my 6th sense helped me view better cheddar kid/
I fucks mo hoes then hugh heffner ever did/
that new leather shit/ the coup hella sick/
dude move ahead of who ever cause dude never quit/
[chorus]-the game
cherry 64 (my lowrider) hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
chrome hydraulics, The all black impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
three-wheelin the 64 (my lowrider) hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
chrome hydraulics, The all black impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
[verse 4]-chingy
cranberry impala, that's my lowrider/
slide by your north sider rider with a hoe driver/
g'd up from the feet up plus the heat tough/
toe game crack the grey goose and spark the weed up/
when im in LA I go in Crenshaw and floss a little/
slot a lot thang in that black wall street/
double u and p and cpt we keeping it G/
in our low riders riders riders/
[verse 5]-lil rob
we put them cracks up on the wall, cucarachas crawl/
I keep my head up and it wont fall, no not at all/
I'll break ya jaw like a break the law, leave u all in all/
The lowrider so clean, you wont know what you saw/
I sit low with a tall can/ in a brown bag/
With a brown rag, bouncing a brown rag/
with the Mexican flag and the American flag/
hitting the fronts and the backs/ watching out for the bash/
[verse 6]-paul wall
home boy, Big T, better know as tyrone/
is the first person I ever seen with a chevy on chrome/
my parter bought it got the slab, wine berry over gold/
with screen in the head rest just to let you know we holding/
I fell in love with it, and I dropped him some cash/
now that's me you see flippin slab, riding on glass/
how much it cost, don't ask, baby just know this/
I coulda bought a benz instead with the money I spent/
[chorus]-the game
cherry 64 (my lowrider) hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
chrome hydraulics, The all black impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
three-wheelin the 64 (my lowrider) hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
chrome hydraulics, The all black impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
[verse 7]-the game
my 64 sittin on that chrome, chrome glock sitting on my lap/
2 hoes ridin in the back/ candy paint, nigga fuck with that/
3-wheel motion, im sitting high/ daytonas, that's all we ride/
hit that switch its do or die/ ride on me that's suicide/
I be in the hood smoking that green/ dr. dre know what I mean/
swisha sweet and them purple leaves/ California, we got that weed/
black diamonds off in my chain/ ask around nigga know my name/
comptons own, the rap lebron james/ ridin low, im switchin lanes/
[verse 8]-wc
make that brain splat/ 30 thang thang clap/
know for the game rap/ with the chrome frame wrap/
from harley davidsons to low lows, we do tip em/
13 hundred spokes with that blue nibble get the picture/
disrespect and imma draw slugs/
but aint no set trippin cause nigga its all love/
dub c drop the real on em, chevy chrome grill on em/
posing in the intersection, 3-wheelin on em nigga/
[verse 9]-ice cube
rasberry 64 bring your cherry/
and we could make a Sunday, come home Monday/
im sittin on the one-way, up on the boulevard/
act hard, put ya thoughts on the dashboard/
cause if I come through the hood with the little homie/
no body better fuck with the little homie/
I hope ( Compton unite/ south central unit/
I hope my chrome, and dance with the moon light/
[chorus]-the game
cherry 64 (my lowrider) hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
chrome hydraulics, The all black impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
three-wheelin the 64 (my lowrider) hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
chrome hydraulics, The all black impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
(this has been a chops production)
[Game]
This is my confession
you can take time to listen
or turn your back on me
but this is my confession
the life of a troubled child
who grew up to be a gangsta
look at me now
[Game]
how the fuck would you feel?
if you had to share every meal
everynight, with your foster brothers and sisters
I think about my mom and I missed her
nights after watching the A-Team, when I kissed her
I use to want to be Mr. T or Murdock
which one was it? uhh... then I heard shots
it must be coming from 133rd block
where them westside piru niggas, burst pop
and the crips ain't far away
you got nutty block, great street, and the P.J's
where niggas 15 years old with beards like freeway
and you can die over he say and she say
like 'your cousin told my brothers baby momma'
that game done started that drama
in the projects
yea the same ones that they said Carmelo got robbed at
but I talked to him, he said it didn't happen
nigga you play ball, I'll be the rapper
[Game]
this is my confession
you can take time to listen
or turn your back on me
but this is my confession
the life of a troubled child
who grew up to be a gangsta
look at me now
[Lil Eazy-E]
everybody wanna know about Eazy son
til I raise my white tee and they seen the gun
yea, the second coming of a nigga with an attitude, out of compton
100 miles, miles and running
Kelly Park to the Rucker, they dont like me to fuck em
this shit in my blood, so I'ma die a hustla
its nothing
when we ride threw your hood busting
that '64 impala the same color as mustard
Eric Wright Jr. nigga the shoe fit
never thought id be in New York fucking with Whoo Kidd
you niggas is stupid, homie im the blueprint
blue chucks on green, make walking a blue pit
745 same blue tint
the diary of a mad man, heres my 2 cents
I stare at my pops eye when he was in his last days
how he goin from bronchitis, and die from AIDs?
fuck that!
[Game]
DAMN!
[Nas]
Aiyyo whassup Game
This the biggest boss in New York, Nas
Whattup my nigga I love what you doin out there man
New York got'chu, Queensbridge got'chu
Do the damn thing
We'll probably do some shit that'll scare the shit outta y'all
Nas y'all
[Verse One: M.O.B.]
Money Over Bitches, yeah
Watch it, when I hop out, 38 and a knockout
The studio on lockout like the day they let 'Pac out
Back to drop out, store the blockout
Homies say the cops out, stash spot got popped out
Grind 'til I clock out, tick tock out
Shake shakin them haters off, runnin a hot route
Get my Mike Williams on, homey do not doubt
#1 in Southern Cal', knowhatI'mtalkinbout?
Suckers up top on, shut 'em out of the pros
But runnin the fo'-fo' open them do's
Run and gun how I 'em them shows
When they see he can ball, let the cold flow open them hoes
I'm here, so go against my arrival is suicidal
Homicidal dynamic certifiedal my mob or die crew
You niggaz been lied to, we the best that did it
since Big was wit it and don't forget it (M.O.B.)
('It's the real..') Money Over Bitches, the new edition
('This.. is a DJ Ski exclusive')
('The real..') Money Over Bitches, and we the new edition
('Hip-Hop..')
[Verse Two: M.O.B.]
Yeah, yeah, it's the mob nigga, ha ha
Ay Tec I get these G-Unit niggaz trippin
Talkin shit 'bout niggaz like they can't come up missin
Ay look I'm here so you don't get the story twisted
When I catch him slippin I'ma gun him down homey pay attention
You niggaz fin' to pay a visit, with readmission
What'chu know about cemetaries and morticians?
Know dat, can't run or escape like lo-jacks
With bullets that I aim cock spit and throw back
I'm Mr. Lemonhead on your block in a gold 'llac
Escaped from Death Row so stop askin where Suge at
You niggaz need your minerals, vitamins, three chemicals
Lyrically invincible spittin repeated principles
I'm killin you, I ain't feelin you meanin a war
Cause when we mob through the door, e'rybody on the floor
It's the mob {*echoes*}
[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
[Justo:]
What up? I be the one they call Justo if you didn't know
Trying to check my man DJ Skee with his new mix-tape
Pick it up you square, you heard what I'm said?
[The Game:]
It's another sad day in Hip-Hop
We lost another one of our brothers, Justo Faison
We love you, and we'll always miss you
Mix-Tape King, forever
[Chorus:]
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
We'll always love you Justo
[Verse 1:]
I picked up my pen four years from the date
Never thought I'd be rapping, and be signed to Dre
Never been to New York, I had to find a way
So I dropped 40 bars on the Clue mix-tape
On the Birdman beat, then my name started buzzing
Aftermath's young gun, and now everybody love him
I hooked up with Gavin, Foxy's little brother
He took me to Kay Slay, and Slay put me on the cover
Drama King, I should of known, 'cause all of the sudden
MC's calling my name and I'm beefing with Joe Budden
That beef came and went, I got at him over Colors
Then caught him at Def Jam and found out, it was nothing
Looked back at my career, staring out at the City
Thinking about the biddin' war between Dre and Diddy
If I was signed to Bad Boy, would 50 be on the Math?
Probably not but maybe Justo wouldn't have crashed
[Chorus]
[Verse 2:]
I remember when Funk Flex first heard me flow
And sway let me freestyle on the wakeup show
Spit over 100 bars then Miss Jones started to host
That's when they start showing me love on the east coast
Then more people found out I was with Dre
And at bodegas I'm on 9 outta 10 of the mix-tapes
I'm workin' on my album and the world can't wait
Cover of the Vibe, and I ain't even have a release date
Then I met Justo he told me if I stay hungry
I'd go platinum and nobody can take that from me
He joked about my rap beefs, I thought it was funny
Gave him a pound then slid him 200 Bars and Runnin'
Went upstairs to change, got dinner at five
Went to Houston's and that's the first time I met Nas
Had Billboard with me and two months later he died
So this is what it sounds like when thugs cry
[Chorus]
[Verse 3:]
Markin' off days on the calendar I can't even sleep
Like a convict, waitin' on January 18th
When the Documentary dropped, it flooded the streets
My mix-tape buzz made me gold the first week
Double platinum in two months
Record labels getting' scared
Cause the kid from Compton selling like Sunny and Cher
Mix-Tape awards came around, glad I was there
To get my award, Mix-Tape Artist of the Year
Stepped on stage, and Justo let 'em know
You might as well crown him the new kind of the West Coast
A couple of months passed we ain't speak
My Sidekick went off 'Justo Rest in Peace'
I let everybody from Snoop to Busta know
A car crash just claimed the life of Justo
They say the good die young, if you know like I know
Live your life to the fullest one day we all gotta go
[The Game:]
Give a moment of silence
If you're wearing a Fitted Cap take it off
If you driving, pull over to the side of the road
We lost an underground legend
Justo Faison
Mix-tape King
Rest in Peace
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...
[The Game]
I'm from Compton where them guns bust, watch Poppa George pop
Cats tellin jokes at them car games
Seen big face hundreds, handle the rock like Nate Archibald
What? This nigga only sixteen
And I wanted to be, just like him, middle school fightin
Any nigga with a chip on his shoulder, whattup nigga?
You want beef with me? Now I let the heat speak for me
No more talkin, just outline chalkin
Nigga Witta Attitude from birth, '100 Miles and Running'
Gunnin bustin shots like fuck the cops
Notorious for burnin blocks, weavin in and out of traffic and chop
Game the young Robin Hood of the block
Steal from the rich, give to the poor, coward niggaz rock
Second comin of this black Alfred Hitchcock
Kick in the door, wavin the four-four
Ten shots to your spleen, let them violins sing
[Chorus: Blue Chip] + (The Game)
Yo, I'm just a ghetto nigga stuck in this game, young'uns runnin with 'caine
Rain hits so we floodin the game
When you come to Compton respect the grounds, leave you shook man
(And I look good, from Compton to Brooklyn)
Hey yo I don't give a fuck who you are, fuck ya ice
Fuck the block that you claim, fuck your Bentley Azure
(Dead presidents is all I represent)
('Til y'all met me y'all niggaz ain't met gangsta yet)
[The Game]
Fast cars, money and muscle, the hustle I was brought up in the 80's
Gangbangin, dope traffic, shit get crazy
From where niggaz grow up hard like dicks raised
Them hustlin guns like Knicks players, we got mouths to feed
'Til they put flowers on me, moms kiss my cold cheek
In that pine box, I'm buyin rocks, eyein cops
Fuck a cell block, the young kid makin it happen
Who you think got them fiends runnin back like Bo Jackson?
I'm a gangsta, what else could I say?
I'm ahead of myself like it's Y4K
2Pac, Scarface, N.W.A.
Taught me how to dodge them bullets, keep my wig in play
Keep fo' snug in the waist or pay a thousand to have 'em
Niggaz in the street move faster than, Michael Jackson's album
But the shit don't really matter to me, we get better G
Bet the four slow 'em down like PCP
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Real gangsters never talk shit, handle they business
Fuck the dry snitchin and bitchin, niggaz die when them bullets fly
Who fuckin with him, ha? Not a nigga alive
End up dead in that 5
He got no sympathy for them dead guys, friend or foe
Watch that chest cave in, what that vest savin?
Make it sloppy for the autopsy, leave my enemies in a frenzy
On the frontlines holdin a 9
Everyday a new chapter, my own niggaz plottin on me
Tryin to hit me but they won't get me, feel the semi first
Fuckin with my dough, is the worst way to go
Y'all know, niggaz cry when them bullets burn slow dummy
In and out of spots watchin my money
If one dollar come up missin bodies start to come up missin
No one too heavy for the Expedition, piss on your corpse
Watch your soul shiver, throw him in the river, bitch nigga
[Chorus]
[Intro]
Three drinks down in an hour glass
Figure drawn to my eyes
With the breath of mixed liquor
(Chorus)
What the hell did i say,
What the fuck did i do to be with you
And it makes me wonder how i got this far
And it takes a couple of drinks to let me know who we are
Kiss my cheek in a week i'll believe this was meant to be
(Verse)
It's my fault
We're still not ready
Cut the dance floor up
Make the DJ bring the beat back
Oh no, we're seeing double
But the two of you look fine
(Verse2)
It's my fault
We're still not ready
Cut the dance floor up
Make the DJ bring the beat back
Oh no, we're seeing double
But the two of you look fine
[Breakdown]
A post rhytm coming off your chest
No matter who the girl is i smell you on my wrist
(Chorus)
What the hell did i say,
What the fuck did i do to be with you
And it makes me wonder how i got this far
And it takes a couple of drinks to let me know who we are
Kiss my cheek in a week i'll believe this was meant to be
(Verse)
It's my fault
We're still not ready
Cut the dance floor up
Make the DJ bring the beat back
Oh no, we're seeing double
But the two of you look fine
(Verse2)
It's my fault
We're still not ready
Cut the dance floor up
Make the DJ bring the beat back
Oh no, we're seeing double
But the two of you look fine
[Intro: Game]
Ahh shit
G-G-G-G-G ... G-G-G-G-Unit
I thought all that beefin was over man
Squashed it man, been there done that
Somebody had to gon' on and fuck it up
[Game]
No more Bleek and Buddens I was hopin' for silence
Till the little sleeping beauty, went and woke the giant
This little bitch from The Luniz want beef he liein'
So I called E-40, and tried to seize the violence
I got niggaz on the island, for puttin' in stainless work
With vaseline on they palms, gettin' ready to +Bang Em Smurf+ (you little bitch)
I here him screamin' in Compton, sound like my bitch cummin'
You wasn't never fuckin' with G-Unit, quit frontin'
For domination be Lisa Leslie, a big woman
With a nine on the back, I'm gonna catch that bitch runnin'
Shove a .40 in his throat, now nigga spit somethin'
And get lost boy, go visit your big cousin
I got fish to fry, throw a line in the pacific
With cocaine on the hook, for this +Luniz+ ass nigga
You a bitch, how you call your self the Ice Cream Man
When Master P took your name and your ice cream van
Made 500 million, that's your homey though
Took your man hood, gave your shit to Lil'Romeo
This nigga, 5 foot 2, talkin' that big shit
You got +5 On It+? that money went to Chris Hicks
Tryin' to diss Too $hort for doin' his pimp shit
Nigga you been gitten fucked, swallowin' big dicks
Pac knew he was a pussy, that's why he ran south
Signed to Rap-A-Lot, they never put his ass out
Hid behind Lil' J, all the sudden you thugged out
Ran back to the Bay, sleepin' on wannabe cuz couch
How you drop 5 albums, don't own one house
Or get the boss to call me, Banks, and fuck out
It's G-Unit bitch, let me show you what blood bout
When my blood pressure rise, I bring the bloods out
Put the barrell on his neck, blow his guts out (*gunshot)
Now that's whats you call a +Yukmouth+
[Outro: Game]
Yeah, you little faggot ass bitch
Yeah nigga, on the motherfuckin' internet with that faggot ass footage nigga
You little bitch ass nigga, Domination, nigga
I'll put braids in your hair motherfucker
See how you like when it's motherfuckin' 50 Cal, nigga
Blow your motherfuckin' brains out nigga, i'll braid your hair you little bitch
Back to you nigga, nigga with the dreads, you fuckin Jafakin
Motherfuckin' faggot ass nigga
Yeah I seen you in the club nigga, asked you did you had beef with G-Unit nigga
Nigga you ain't say shit nigga
'That ain't me man, that was C-Bo, man, this Regime, this Regime, man, Bay area, Bay area'
Man i'll beat the shit out you, you fuckin little punk
And when I catch you nigga, you gonna need Dr.Dre to get my motherfuckin' G-6 out you ass
You bitch, you faggot ass nigga, and don't try to turn the Bay 'gainst me nigga
I got niggaz in your town that will fuck you up
Vallejo, Filmoe, San Fransico, Sac-town, Oakland
Compton's most nigga
G-G-G-G .. G-G-G-G-Unit
Thought I was done huh? you little bitch
I ain't finished with yo' ass yet nigga, when I see you I'ma beat the shit outta you nigga
To a motherfuckin' pulp, on camera nigga
Since you like playin' with little camcorders and shit you motherfuckin faggot
And I got a mill on that, what the fuck is 5 dollars nigga
G-G-G-G-G-Unit
Mary J. Blige
Yeah, let's take 'em back
The Game
I need a 'Real Love', Mary, holla at me if you need a real thug
We could ride through Compton and see real Bloods,
Real Crips and I'm-a always hold you down, that's real shit
I'm the Los Angeles king and 'You Remind Me' of Mary, the R&B; queen
I got the '411', what's crackin',
What I owe you for helpin' me go four times Platinum
I add a kid to 'My Life', he's almost two
I guess what I'm tryin' to say is thank you,
For over ten years of the ghetto gospel
You've paved the way for young black women to prosper
How you paint pictures you deserve Grammys and Oscars
Congratulations for me, Aftermath, and the Dr.
So niggaz go 'head and envy me
I'm Billboards Top 10 featuring M.J.B.
Mary J. Blige
When you learn stepped in this game
After 'What's The 411?', things ain't been the same
And I can't complain,
But with all this fame comes a whole lot of pain
But I'm so glad to be here
And my music's still sincere
Lets get back to the story,
All of this pain and glory
And 94 was 'My Life' and my life wasn't right
So I reached out to you and told you what I've been through
Chorus: 50 Cent + Mary J.
(Hate it or love it the underdogs' on top
and I'm gon' shine, homey until my heart stop)
Go head and envy me, I'm a soul hip-hop queen
and I ain't goin' nowhere but you already know me
(Hate it or love it the underdogs' on top
and I'm gon' shine, homey until my heart stop)
Go head and envy me, I'm a soul hip-hop queen
and I ain't goin' nowhere but you already know me
And I came and 'Shared My World'
But at that point I was just a foolish girl
Tryin to find my way
And I dropped a 'Mary' album and people would say
That it's just not gonna work and my feelings they did hurt
But my fans showed me so much love and I owe it all to them
Then I came with 'No More Drama', I remember that week
It was when Aaliyah died, I couldn't hardly sleep
Thought about it every day,
And it made me change my ways
I'm a real woman, now because of all of these days
Chorus: 50 Cent + Mary J.
(Hate it or love it the underdogs' on top
and I'm gon' shine, homey until my heart stop)
Go head and envy me, I'm a soul hip-hop queen
and I ain't goin' nowhere but you already know me
(Hate it or love it the underdogs' on top
and I'm gon' shine, homey until my heart stop)
Go head and envy me, I'm a soul hip-hop queen
and I ain't goin' nowhere but you already know me
Bridge
Find me of a 'Real Love'
You don't have to worry ('Real Love')
'All Night Long' 'I'm Goin' Down'
Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-da
Do-do-do-do-do-da
'Reminisce' on the love we had
'You Are Everything' 'Talk About A Limit'
What are you gonna do without 'My Life, My Life, My Life, My Life'
Chorus: 50 Cent + Mary J.
(Hate it or love it the underdogs' on top
and I'm gon' shine, homey until my heart stop)
Go head and envy me, I'm a soul hip-hop queen
and I ain't goin' nowhere but you already know me
(Hate it or love it the underdogs' on top
and I'm gon' shine, homey until my heart stop)
Go head and envy me, I'm a soul hip-hop queen
and I ain't goin' nowhere but you already know me
(Hate it or love it the underdogs' on top
and I'm gon' shine, homey until my heart stop)
Go head and envy me, I'm a soul hip-hop queen
and I ain't goin' nowhere but you already know me
(Hate it or love it the underdogs' on top
and I'm gon' shine, homey until my heart stop)
Go head and envy me, I'm a soul hip-hop queen
and I ain't goin' nowhere but you already know me
Outro: Mary J. Blige + (The Game)
Right now, I just wanna thank Dr. Dre
(Hate it or love it, Aftermath's on top!)
And The Game for pickin' such a hot record, I thank y'all
(Naw, baby, we thank you) Shout out to Cool & Dre
(COOL AND DRE!) For makin a track...THIS HOT! WHOO!
(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]
[19 second instrumental to open]
[The Game]
Live now, die later, flood or clock the shit out of haters
Got niggaz tryin to 'Kiss the Game Goodbye' like Jada
Get your shit pushed back like Jada's CD
I'll put your brains on that Kenwood TV
So you can see hell in 3D, it's right there dog
And the Game behind the Desert is a nightmare dog
If it's pussy, I might share it dog, beef I'm right here dog
I'm on the block, white Nike Airs on
Gucci check, Coogi sweat, they wanna know
if 22's on the truck, give me coochie yet
But I come through in the new GS with two, three tecs
Got niggaz Harlem Shakin like the new G. Dep
Tryin to read my whole script, but ain't seen the movie yet
Better have that glock stuffed tonight
I'm comin through with Young Noble, and we, gon', make, it
A block bust tonight
[Chorus 2X: The Game]
Getting American Money Easy, all I know
The Gangsta All Motherfuckers Envy, all my dough
It's a West coast knot, watch, let it bang out
Shots range out, for all the gangsta hangouts
[The Game]
Lace your tips, polish your gators, we like odds in Vegas
You can't ball? Then it's probably the haters
Can't breathe then it's probably the Desert, if you a gangsta or not
I give a fuck dog, bullets is hot
And every nigga gon' cry when he hit, the more pain
the more blood drain, he ain't survivin shit
And your niggaz ain't gon' ride for shit, they know
if they came through everybody in the X-5 is hit
Red rag or blue rag, niggaz die for this
The Game the reason all these niggaz on that 'Cali Love' shit
Compton niggaz get grimy too, pull you out of that 6
Fuck you up like one time'll do
And I dare y'all to stop on the 'Shaw, and King Boulevard
Comin hard, Doogie Howser pullin bullets out your jaw
Turn your round trip into a one-way ticket
You can visit, but you can not lie and kick it
[Chorus]
[Young Noble]
Aiyyo, we left a stain on your block, you came with a cop
Pointin fingers at them niggaz, that kept shit hot
Next to 'Pac, I'm the hottest thang out, homey we can bang out
Outlaw air it out, box 'em in, square it out
Learn about your whereabouts and we right there
Me and Game have you left right there
N-O-B-L-E, O-U-T-L-A-W-Z
We bubble with ease, and I double my cheese
I got niggaz out in Compton that'll find yo' ass
I got niggaz out in Jersey, that'll hide yo' ass
for a long time if you ever fuckin with mine
It's a thin line dog between the real and the fraud
We killin your squad, my homeboy still in the yard
You the type of motherfucker standin next to the God
The Game is deep, you motherfuckers ain't the streets
Young Noble and the homey Game flamin heat, c'mon
[Chorus]
Live now, die later, flood or clock the shit out of haters
Got niggaz tryin to 'Kiss the Game Goodbye' like Jada
Get your shit pushed back like Jada's CD
I'll put your brains on that Kenwood TV
So you can see hell in 3D, it's right there dog
And the Game behind the Desert is a nightmare dog
If it's pussy, I might share it dog, beef I'm right here dog
I'm on the block, white Nike Airs on
Gucci check, Coogi sweat, they wanna know
if 22's on the truck, give me coochie yet
But I come through in the new GS with two, three tecs
Got niggaz Harlem Shakin like the new G. Dep
Tryin to read my whole script, but ain't seen the movie yet
Better have that glock stuffed tonight
I'm comin through with Young Noble, and we, gon', make, it
A block bust tonight
Chorus
Getting American Money Easy, all I know
The Gangsta All Motherfuckers Envy, all my dough
It's a West coast knot, watch, let it bang out
Shots range out, for all the gangsta hangouts
Lace your tips, polish your gators, we like odds in Vegas
You can't ball? Then it's probably the haters
Can't breathe then it's probably the Desert, if you a gangsta or not
I give a fuck dog, bullets is hot
And every nigga gon' cry when he hit, the more pain
the more blood drain, he ain't survivin shit
And your niggaz ain't gon' ride for shit, they know
if they came through everybody in the X-5 is hit
Red rag or blue rag, niggaz die for this
The Game the reason all these niggaz on that 'Cali Love' shit
Compton niggaz get grimy too, pull you out of that 6
Fuck you up like one time'll do
And I dare y'all to stop on the 'Shaw, and King Boulevard
Comin hard, Doogie Howser pullin bullets out your jaw
Turn your round trip into a one-way ticket
You can visit, but you can not lie and kick it
Chorus
Aiyyo, we left a stain on your block, you came with a cop
Pointin fingers at them niggaz, that kept shit hot
Next to 'Pac, I'm the hottest thang out, homey we can bang out
Outlaw air it out, box 'em in, square it out
Learn about your whereabouts and we right there
Me and Game have you left right there
N-O-B-L-E, O-U-T-L-A-W-Z
We bubble with ease, and I double my cheese
I got niggaz out in Compton that'll find yo' ass
I got niggaz out in Jersey, that'll hide yo' ass
for a long time if you ever fuckin with mine
It's a thin line dog between the real and the fraud
We killin your squad, my homeboy still in the yard
You the type of motherfucker standin next to the God
The Game is deep, you motherfuckers ain't the streets
Young Noble and the homey Game flamin heat, c'mon
Chorus
[21 seconds of ad libs to open]
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
Exclusively, ridin on them deuces G
Talkin 'bout what your gameplan used to be
They got us choppin up game through the fog and smoke
We came a long way but still we got so far to go
[Verse One]
Yeah I know I got 4 to go, so with these bars I flow
At a pace for the papes I thank y'all should know
I lace it properly for property, it really ain't no stoppin me
And plus I'm tryin to get my money on like Monopoly
Politickin economy, if I could be a made nigga
Smokin on e'ry nigga, balled out paid nigga
Keepin it real, I'm still deep in the field
Deep with the skills for the bills
I got the million dollar mouthpiece with no gold grill
I bring the thrill like Will Clark
I will bust I will spark and flame in the booth
You blind you shoulda saw it when I came in the booth
I serve the thunder, that shit that'll brang in the roof
[Verse Two]
My niggaz, stack riches, mack bitches
Blow fast Swishers with my folks, act vicious with my folks
Sav livin with my vo-cals, Outlaw like my nigga No-ble
Fuckin bad bitches at the hotel
There's nothin to a boss, man we live it up
Smash for the cash and respect so when we mash niggaz give it up
I got no time for that fake shit
Jersey to the Bay niggaz thuggin even bitches thinkin they sick
So nigga basically the world is a ghetto
Play a nigga out his scratch, he gon' be twirled in a meadow
I keep it real with niggaz that be true to me
There's nothin you can do to me
My crew is deep and real niggaz rule the streets
[Chorus]
[Verse Three: The Game]
Lace your Timbs, polish your gators, we like odds in Vegas
You can't ball then it's probably the haters
Can't breathe then it's probably the desert, if you a gangster or not
I give a fuck dawg, bullets is hot
And every nigga gon' cry when he hit
The more pain the more blood drain, he ain't survivin shit
And your niggaz ain't gon' ride for shit, they know
if they came through everybody in the X-5 is hit
Red rag or blue rag, niggaz die for this
The Game the reason all these niggaz on that 'Cali Love' shit
Compton niggaz get grimy too, pull you out of that 6
Fuck you up like one time'll do
And I dare y'all to stop on the 'Shaw, and King Boulevard
Pull it hard, Doogie Howser pullin bullets out your jaw
Turn your round trip into a one-way ticket
You can visit, but you can not lie and kick it
[Verse Four]
It's time for me to shine, life on the grind, life on the line
Feelin like I'm runnin out of time
It's now or never, chasin this cheddar 'til things get better
These streets got me hungry as ever
Can't stop can't change, young Sav stuck in the game
Everyday we gotta hustle and slang, struggle and strain
to bubble, weed plus the 'caine to juggle
Organize the brains and muscle
[Chorus]
[Verse Five]
You {?} like Sammy did Gotti, told 'em we kamikaze
Like those whiteboys ain't heedin the robbery
Told 'em we ride around in them cars on them big wheels
In the killing field makin 100 bills on the P-700 Pirelli wheels
Marshall Faulk in to ball again in this day to day scrimmage
'Bout the spinach this game is relentless where we livin
Niggaz'll 32 round ya, kick you on the ground
After they down ya, sneak ya and plot ya, Heckler & Koch ya
Got ya body bein scrutinized by a flock of doctors
Still an unsolved mystery, statistically, history
A Get Low nigga victory by fuckin with my credibility
[50 Cent]
yeah, lets take em' back, uh-huh
comin up i was confused, my momma kissin a girl
confusion occurs comin up in a cold world
daddy aint around, prolbly out commitin' felonies
my favorite rapper use to sing check check out my melody
i wanna live good so should i sell dope
for a four finger ring and one of them gold ropes
nana told me if i passed id get a sheepskin coat
if i could move a few packs id get the hat, now that would be dope
tossed and turned in my sleep last night,
woke up the next mornin' niggas had stole my bike
diferent day same shit aint nothin good in the hood
i run away from this bitch and never come back if i could
[50 Cent & Game]
hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
and im gon' shine homie until my heart stop
go head envy me, im raps mvp
and i aint goin nowhere so you can get to know me
hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
and im gon' shine homie until my heart stop
go head envy me, im raps mvp
and i aint goin nowhere so you can get to know me
g-g-g-g-g- G-Unit
[Game]
on the grill of my lowrider
guns on both sides right above da gold wires
i'll 4-5 em kill a nigga on my song, and really do it
thats the true meaning of a ghost writer
10 g's will take your daughter outta air-force's
believe in me homey i know all about losses
im from compton, wear the wrong colors be cautious
one phone call will have your body dumped in moss
i stay strapped like car seats
been bangin since my lil nigga rob got killed for his barkleys
thats ten years i told pooh in '95 i'll kill you if you try me for my air max 95's
told banks when i met him imma ride and if i gotta die rather homicide
i aint have 50 cent when my grandmomma died
now im going back to cali with my jacob on see how time flys
[50 Cent & Game]
hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
and im gon' shine homie until my heart stop
go head envy me, im raps mvp
and i aint goin nowhere so you can get to know me
hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
and im gon' shine homie until my heart stop
go head envy me, im raps mvp
and i aint goin nowhere so you can get to know me
[50 Cent]
from the beginnin' to the end
losers lose winners win
this is real we aint gotta pretend
the cold world that we in its full of pressure and pain
enough of me nigga now listen to game
[(Game]
used to see 5-0 throw the crack by da bench
now im fuckin with 5-0 its all startin to make sense
my moms happy she aint 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 spent 30 million dollars on airplanes
when there's kids starvin'
pac is gone and brenda still throwin babies in the garbage
i wanna know whats goin on like i hear marvin
no school books to use that wood to build coffins
whenever im in da booth and i get exhausted i think
what if marie banka got that abortion (i love you ma)
[50 Cent & Game]
hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
and im gon' shine homie until my heart stop
go head envy me, im raps mvp
and i aint goin nowhere so you can get to know me
hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
and im gon' shine homie until my heart stop
go head envy me, im raps mvp
and i aint goin nowhere so you can get to know me
hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
and im gon' shine homie until my heart stop
go head envy me, im raps mvp
and i aint goin nowhere so you can get to know me
hate it or love it, the underdogs on top
and im gon' shine homie until my heart stop
go head envy me, im raps mvp
and i aint goin nowhere so you can get to know me
[13 second street fight instrumental to open]
[The Game]
Death before dishonor
Ride with weap' up, cause niggaz tryin to dent my armor
Cold streets, Telly Mac keep the guns on 'em
They wanna know how that nigga from California
could run up on ya on any corner
Put somethin on ya
How I stuff bricks in the 6, with no crack aroma
Dawg, I'm just livin for the moment
I'm from Compton homey, but I'm like a center for Milwaukee
Cause I play for the Bucks, and I keep the 40 on me
Gotta keep the chrome-y, gotta keep my back to the wall
Wait for Q to rock me up, like cavi dawg
Speakin of lle', I put 8 in, 10 jump back hard
And watch my money come back, like Jordan in charge
I'm like the black Yankees, they don't want me around no more
Cause I hold the record for the most fiends roamin the boulevard
And when I'm on the boulevard, catch me behind the wheel
of that new Escalade with the Foreman grill
[Chorus - repeat 2X]
Steppin out of Chevies with heat that's heavy - that's president
Bullets flyin for them dead guys - that's president
Led meltin inside your wig - that's president
20's 50's and 100's burnin - it's all president
[Telly Mac]
Aiyyo I do this shit from Compton to the Mac block
High-tech collaborations with the Gamblaz and Blacksox
Drillin 'em killin 'em if we ain't feelin 'em nigga
If Sticky Fingaz need some music straight stealin it nigga
Shinin, in big trucks, big will in it nigga we climbin
To the top and we sealin it nigga
So back the fuck up, my niggaz act the fuck up
So keep yourself in line or you could get smacked the fuck up
Jacked the fuck up, beat up bad and clapped the fuck up
Wrapped up in white sheets and threw in a white truck
Over presidents, now you willin to give your life up?
Put your kids on the line, and give your wife up?
Over presidents, they got you soulless
So take this bomb and hold this, while we control this
For the streets, we comin with heat that's stolen
And we hustle universal, for that paper that we foldin
Roll in 600's, Beemers and 'llacs
We a team of cats, with the pens and gats
That fiend for jacks, but only when the green's attached
We fiend for jacks, but only when the green's attached
[Chorus]
[The Game]
It's Telly and young Game the hustler, ho juggler, coke smuggler
No matter what the hustle, dough doublin
Lle or the rock, give me a day and a spot
And I bet I'll come back with 10K in the drop
[Telly Mac]
I'll stay in the spot, wearin a crop and coppin ounces
Telly Mac and Game the hustler, we rock the house
And plus we the reason that the blocks is out
So my words to the wise is just watch your mouth
[The Game]
And you don't want it when the stainless out, what the game about
The bullets is in, your brains is out
All over Frisco and Compton dawg, we ruthless
And the truth is y'all niggaz can't stop us dawg
[Telly Mac]
So why the fuck you wanna knock us off
Like we some high-powered cowards and y'all really the niggaz that's soft
Still across the train tracks, we turn 'caine crack
It's Telly Mac and Game the hustler, you can't change that
[Chorus] - to fade w/ Digital Underground ad libs
Yo big Chuck this one of them bangers man
[Verse 1]
Fresh out the drop
Chuck Taylors hit the street crack In the ground
there he go with the crack and the pound
I'm right here ain't no backin me down
hands on the hot hood Compton sheriffs pack me down
they wanna know about the tattoo tears
If I know 50 and why them guns blow like Lionel Richie
If my nine get Itchy, somebody gotta pass away
like thet bitch nigga that killed Jam Master Jay
you don't like It you can come get my ass today
I'll be waitin with a vest, ski mask and K
niggaz left me for dead back In the day
I found out It was a hard knock life without askin Jay
It's a hard knock life then you pass away
rest In peace to Mossberg pour out a glass of Zay
this for all my niggaz in Compton killin
give me 5 years nigga I'm bringin Compton millions
[Chorus]
Well I come from Murderville
where them gangsta's and hustlers live
little kids out on the block
hollow points and Harlem rocks
don't seem like it's gonna change
look In my eyes you can feel my pain
It's a war out on them blocks
duck down when you hear them shots
Ohhh
[Verse 2]
Back In the building, back to the war
by that Jackie Robinson mirror I used to sell crack by the wall
hoppin fences with the crack in my drawers
I got bitches that'll hit the pennitentiary stuff the crack in they walls pause
take off the jewels and the bandannas
let me holla at my nigga Jim Jones and Santanna
thanks for representing, but when teks is spittin
one shot spin around the block I think we left a witness
I'm from the coast where props are never given
fuck rap I start makin wooden boxes for a living
nigga, they call me Sargent Slaughter
cuz the sargents on them S.Carters, von ductches and a quarter water
I know Jesus but he don't walk accross the water
I call him Je-sus he get that chalk accross the border
park that grey goose I put that chalk around your daughter
But I got patients and I'm just what the doctor ordered
[Chorus]
its the best part of the day
when we turn and look away
cause i never had the chance to say goodbye
it takes forever just to plain
games that other guys have made
but i wont leave without winning you this time
so now its up to us
sit back and take this down
with words i barely could describe
and i just beg you to cry
i'll move much faster now
then kindly take a bow
your out of bounds
so now its up to us
sit back and take this down
with words i barely could describe
and i just beg you to cry
i'll move much faster now
then kindly take a bow
your out of bounds
its the best part of the day
as i watch you walk away
if i had the chance i'd never say goodbye
so i will finally say
that i wish you that could stay
i'll show you stars that bring you
places you've never been
so now its up to us
sit back and take this down
with words i barely could describe
and i just beg you to cry
i'll move much faster now
then kindly take a bow
your out of bounds
so now its up to us
sit back and take this down
with words i barely could describe
and i just beg you to cry
i'll move much faster now
then kindly take a bow
your out of bounds
so now its up to us
so now its up to us
so now its up to us
so now its up to us
so now its up to us
sit back and take this down
with words i barely could describe
and i just beg you to cry
i'll move much faster now
then kindly take a bow
your out of bounds
so now its up to us
sit back and take this down
with words i barely could describe
and i just beg you to cry
i'll move much faster now
then kindly take a bow
your out of bounds
[20 second instrumental to open]
[San Quinn]
Drama is real, like not wakin up
I'm breakin up grounds when this patriot thrust
Your mouth is on shut, your emotions are hidden
For you to handle your business, you are more than driven
If you kill it no more standin on that corner like a stop sign
Everytime you spotted they call it shot time
Not at the gym but in the grim reaper's hands
You important if a bullet hits, injure your plans
This is not an adventure, but a full-time duty
If you seen how niggaz hit the club, they pullin out uzis
Sometimes bruisin and grazin, mostly takin
No more sleep for the shooter, no more of that hangin
No mo' trustin hoes you ain't know fo' ten plus
No mo' smokin with the homies, no mo' late night clubs
Cause the victim, is ready to stick him like a mousetrap
I'm 'bout to rap, you better be 'bout peepin out cash
[Chorus: The Game]
If there's blood on my Nikes I done murdered a nigga
If the stash spot smokin I done murdered a nigga
San Quinn got a hurt for the nigga, it get worser for niggaz
We take this beef shit further than niggaz
Streets are shady, the Game got curtains for niggaz
All-of-a-sudden-ass killers never heard of these niggaz
Have your whole family cryin a river, we'll murder you niggaz
We take this beef shit personal nigga
[The Game]
I ain't met a nigga yet could fuck with this rap vet
I'm the realest since I came in the game on Kam back
Rest in peace to Mausberg, gotta live with that
Keep the M2 on my hip, I live with that
Eat with that, sleep with that, come get me
Four-fifty put somethin through your son Easter basket
Six in your truck, get you each a casket
Put termites in your box let 'em eat your cabbage
A wife right here, see if she can weave through traffic
Everybody gotta die, when the beef is active
If you know Game, you know I'll never give free passes
But I give choices, how you want it, metal or plastic
Life is real, pedal to traffic, no spots on my tail
Cops on the payroll so me and Quinn live well
And I can still get a nigga the hill, your bitch as well
Shotgun got mo' punks than shells
[Chorus]
[The Game]
See the Escalade got 'em runnin downhill, snowball niggaz
We throw vapors out of truck windows, blow our figures
Suede corners out the sunroof, the fifth or the Ruger
Broad daylight, blow the windows out of your Cougar
Move in the S5, plus my, leather dust fly
Spark up a dutch, Game put niggaz in a coffin too much
Turn niggaz kids into orphans too much, In God We Trust - nah
Keep the fifth close like Starsky & Hutch
Your daughter cryin it's just {?} tuck, but so what
Blow the dutch, southpaw bust out your whole fronts
Have you eatin soup for months, broken jaw, lick your shit out of straws
I guess I got that same ol' harm
I ain't for play, the Game is raw
Specialize in death jackets, here try these bullets on
And next time have all my cheese cause if you owe me
Guns O-U-T, we all gon' squeeze
[Chorus]
Drama is real, like not wakin up
I'm breakin up grounds when this patriot thrust
Your mouth is on shut, your emotions are hidden
For you to handle your business, you are more than driven
If you kill it no more standin on that corner like a stop sign
Everytime you spotted they call it shot time
Not at the gym but in the grim reaper's hands
You important if a bullet hits, injure your plans
This is not an adventure, but a full-time duty
If you seen how niggaz hit the club, they pullin out uzis
Sometimes bruisin and grazin, mostly takin
No more sleep for the shooter, no more of that hangin
No mo' trustin hoes you ain't know fo' ten plus
No mo' smokin with the homies, no mo' late night clubs
Cause the victim, is ready to stick him like a mousetrap
I'm 'bout to rap, you better be 'bout peepin out cash
Chorus
If there's blood on my Nikes I done murdered a nigga
If the stash spot smokin I done murdered a nigga
San Quinn got a hurt for the nigga, it get worser for niggaz
We take this beef shit further than niggaz
Streets are shady, the Game got curtains for niggaz
All-of-a-sudden-ass killers never heard of these niggaz
Have your whole family cryin a river, we'll murder you niggaz
We take this beef shit personal nigga
I ain't met a nigga yet could fuck with this rap vet
I'm the realest since I came in the game on Kam back
Rest in peace to Mausberg, gotta live with that
Keep the M2 on my hip, I live with that
Eat with that, sleep with that, come get me
Four-fifty put somethin through your son Easter basket
Six in your truck, get you each a casket
Put termites in your box let 'em eat your cabbage
A wife right here, see if she can weave through traffic
Everybody gotta die, when the beef is active
If you know Game, you know I'll never give free passes
But I give choices, how you want it, metal or plastic
Life is real, pedal to traffic, no spots on my tail
Cops on the payroll so me and Quinn live well
And I can still get a nigga the hill, your bitch as well
Shotgun got mo' punks than shells
Chorus
See the Escalade got 'em runnin downhill, snowball niggaz
We throw vapors out of truck windows, blow our figures
Suede corners out the sunroof, the fifth or the Ruger
Broad daylight, blow the windows out of your Cougar
Move in the S5, plus my, leather dust fly
Spark up a dutch, Game put niggaz in a coffin too much
Turn niggaz kids into orphans too much, In God We Trust - nah
Keep the fifth close like Starsky & Hutch
Your daughter cryin it's just {?} tuck, but so what
Blow the dutch, southpaw bust out your whole fronts
Have you eatin soup for months, broken jaw, lick your shit out of straws
I guess I got that same ol' harm
I ain't for play, the Game is raw
Specialize in death jackets, here try these bullets on
And next time have all my cheese cause if you owe me
Guns O-U-T, we all gon' squeeze
Chorus
[Intro/Chorus - sample]
-- Don't cry {*5X*} don't..
-- Don't cry {*5X*} don't..
[The Game]
Amayah wake up baby
I know you're sleepin, but daddy's home now
Pictures gettin old, my lil' girl lookin grown now
Your moms said you're talkin on your own, walkin on your own now
Run across the kitchen floor in them baby drawers
I sent you from off tour and I miss you when I was tourin
Smilin at them baby pictures, so happy, tears pourin
God how can somethin so beautiful come from me?
After the gunshots thought you was done with me
But I know I'm livin now, why you made me put the guns down
Pick up the mic, start rappin for a living now
My sun, my moon, my starts, my earth
My wind, my fire, my life, my bay-bay
Tryin to make your moms life ya must be crazy, fussin and fightin
I know she love me cause ya look just like me
Day you came into this world I was so excited
Eleven twenty-one double-zero, my baby girl is here
[Chorus]
[Blue Chip]
Yo, yo, you see this rap shit I do it for you
And the first time I heard your voice I prayed to God it had to be true
Got a son now, cuttin the game, stoppin the bullshit
Remember eyein your enemy, can you pull quick
Dipped out Cali, came back, snatched my son
my girl moms and I moved out Maui
Yeah your pops gone bananas, seen wild went hard
Bigger house, wider yard, nappy with the crash bar
Off that hersh', shit you stupid, you ain't no dad nigga
Takin your black ass to court for all you have nigga
You see me and your moms, that's another topic
Ain't no whip in this world with a price you can't cop it
Stop it, press rewind, you didn't hear me right
It's a lesson to the song, I'm tryin to steer you right
Just remember your father taught you to go hard or go home
Never sing that sad song, don't cry
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Huh daddy ain't gon' preach to you, I'ma let your moms school you
Don't let the streets fool you, streets'll do you, that's why I'm talkin to you
[Blue Chip]
Yeah, you see these niggaz out here, have you stressin by the hour
Never turn your back on your foes, them dudes cowards
[The Game]
Some days sweet, and some sour - but we gon' make it together
The world is ours, and you're my flower
[Blue Chip]
If it's ice you can get that, model chicks hit that
Never stress about the downfalls just 'bout the getback
[The Game]
And I ain't sayin sex is wrong, just make sure he strap a condom on
And never, ever do it in your mother's home
[Blue Chip]
Yeah, never call a girl a bitch, show respect, son pop ya collar
Ain't nothin free, scrape and lock every dollar
[The Game]
And I will leave you with this, my lil' angel, daddy loves you
How I'd die for you, cry for you, ride for you
[Blue Chip]
Yeah, switchin handles like you breakin a zone, candy paint Impala
On the Golden Bridge, bouncin on chrome
[Chorus]
[Chorus: The Game + JT]
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay, our chains hang, L.A. they can't bang
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In L.A. they havin problems, the Bay we pop collars
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay we pop hollows, L.A. they pop hollows
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay we pop bottles, L.A. they pop bottles
[JT the Bigga Figga]
They can't cop what the bricks'll cost
But we stay in the lane to maintain in the 6 to floss
Leather gloves with the tips to toss
But the money was made from conversation had to clip the boss
Smash down at the V.I.P.
Street smarts is crucial for young niggaz in the CX-3
Drop Jag with the price to pay
Cause the bags was heavy my chain swangin like a ice capade
Got the feds lookin twice this way
Cause we shuffle the P's in different places that the {?} name
Compton to Fillmoe man the game is real
When you turn 15 get your stainless steel
Whole squad been trained to kill, we official
And switch to get rich now we after the meals
Hard times got cakes for 3
When it's havin a bundle we break bread for the safe and flee nigga
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I got guns, guns, guns, guns
Guns all over the club
We in V.I.P. strapped, security know that
25 deep, guns up under the throwback
That new R. Kelly shit sound like Bobby Womack
Black Wall Street in HURR, nigga where the hoes at
We got sour diesel, three cases of Hypnotiq
And more guns than the Nickerson Projects
Niggaz don't want beef with me
Cause they know they gotta pay for talkin shit but the sheets is free
And ain't nuttin to shoot the club up
You don't want drama in this motherfucker throw them dubs up
Jacob got the wrists on chill
And N.W.A. chain glow like the memory of Ill Will
Relax your mind and let your drawers feel free
You're now rollin to the sound of the Game and JT
[Chorus]
[JT the Bigga Figga]
But you can't come with the rest of her friends
Cause you know I'm a boss and won't play cause she short on my ends
Make rounds from the back of the Benz
With the {?} that kid with frog eyes with the corners to bend
The things we go through I'm beatin ya brains
Got some homies next do' and I picked up the Game
While they knockin on the do' I get deep in ya dame
Gotta charge you a G just for speakin my name
[The Game]
I'm not eatin your chocha or payin for the coach ma
I'm a pimp like 50, the nigga to leave you broke ma
6 in the mornin, you stretchin on the sofa
Singin 'Ain't No Nigga' like Foxy Brown and Hova
I fuck 'em dogstyle with Billys and Novas
With or without chaffeurs, I make 'em fuck the both of us
You know what it is, the gangster's back
And I keep my banger at where my chain hang at
I'm ghetto
[Chorus] - 2X
[Intro: G.A.M.E. (Jim Jones)]
(R.I.P Eazy-E)That Westside(Capo), that city where them tec's fly(Dip-set!)
We ride in that Westside(Eastside), that no seeds in our stress side(Lets ride)
[Verse 1: G.A.M.E.]
Jim Jones swirvin, I got that purple I'm blowed
Tight grip on the Escalade pole
Yeah, Harlem's jus' like Compton, that's jus' how I roll
Red bandana wrapped around the chrome .44
Gun smokin' like Suge cigar
Show me how you stunt you thrown outta movin' car
If that thing come out, its murder she wrote
If Doc come out, its 30 Impalas on the boat
Nigga, we do this everyday
Llamas under the thermul, waitin' by ya stairs like Mary J
Beat niggaz ride dirty like Jazze Pha, Cassius Clay
Knock a nigga out on the ave today
Bring the mack ya way me and Santana
Blowin' in the crowd like Donnie Hathaway
Westside blood-gang, niggaz know what I'm about
And they know I'm ruff ridin' so they knockself out
[Chorus: Bezel]
Now I ride with my vest, .45 and my tech
Big 4 in the '64, like I'm in the West
Not petrified to put 5 in ya chest
Cause, we Certified Gangstas
Stash the mill' in the house
And I kill in the drowt
That's the chill, when I pump, get it crunk in the South
Icegrill, like a nice meal in my mouth
Cause, we Certified Gangstas
Yo, when I'm out in Oakland, catch me in the silver and black Coupe
With two Desert Eagles and an ounce of glue
When I'm out in San Fran, the P.D. real nervous
Cause they know I'm packin heat under the Willie Mays jersey
Nigga, it ain't nuttin for me to empty a clip
Or wave my guns in the air and just enter ya strip
I know about gangs, had shootouts with plenty of Crips
I sold crack and been out of town with plenty of bricks
So ain't nuttin you can tell me, about the game
Come with beef and leave here without your brains
And I'ma drive upstate and try to bounce this 'caine
In that Shelby the same color as moutanin rain
And you know I got the South clickin
Cause ain't nuttin like niggaz with gold teeth and them down South chickens
So fuck with my D and get found wit'cha mouth missin
This ain't about you and me it's about business nigga
Chorus
It's business never personal, real live on blocks
If we ain't movin the rocks, then we movin the stocks
Cross a hustler motherfucker you'll arrive in a box
It's the true to life struggle 'til we arrive on top
They don't understand me, like the Birdman I got candy
Put the herb in, I got family
I'm doin 85, in the 50-mile-an-hour lane
Tryin to handle my business, the Figgaro stack change
Independent tycoons (tycoons) - yeah
My niggaz puff trees, snort coke and chew shrooms
Bad to the bone (to the bone)
And cain't trust a nigga for shit cause Feds on the phone
My whole crew dirty, fuckin with amphetamines
Catch you slippin blow your whole crew to smitharines
Now the streets knowin (knowin)
And I'ma run this shit back with my foot broke like Terrell Owens
Still blowin
Like Mike Jones of the Swishahouse, gold knock them bitches outs
We take trips out to Houston and D.C.
For the West coast, nigga can you feel me?
Chorus
-Game talkin-
(pshh) We got a problem Houston...
Not Marcus Houston, or his lil' rappin side kick
We got a real motha fuckin problem...
And theres only gonna be one of these songs,
After that I'ma knock your motha fuckin ass out...
-verse 1-
Bitch niggas get put in a coffin
With all that psychopath talkin
You listenin to da source, and I ain't from boston
I'm gang bangin, red G-6's
Call 'em how I see em, these niggas is bitches
And clue put this nigga on a song
Now it's G-unit and I came to get it on
You ain't hot, nigga you luke warm
I'll hog tie your ass wit G-unit shoes on
You had pump it up, that was a cool song
You only sold 10 records nigga now move on
Talkin bout you got ratchets and twos on
when You was at the allstar game wit no jewels on
I cant believe I gave you dap
Wit da 45 on me, I should've gave you dat
Pistol whipped you, layed you flat
Jumped off Buddens, nah a disgrace for a yankee hat
And it's time to state my biz
Only nigga pushin Rock in jersey is Jason Kidd
You a phony nigga, I erase your wit
Have you runnin to da church like Mase done did.
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
You don't know me..fool
To dis me on DJ..Clue
I don't need no assistance
to dig you a ditch and
Any problem I got, I just put my clip in
You fake like Janet's titty
One call, 300 bloods at Atlantic City
You bad boy then dance like diddy
I give celebrity beat downs, I bring da camera wit me
On dat mixtape shit, you know my man was 50
And I keep some chrome in da tanish dickies
Smoke nigga like a gram of sticky
And I know my way to Harlem, I'd take you to Branstons wit me
Come to Compton, you'll vanish quickly
I got niggas in da hood dat'll kill you for a can of Migee's
Gangs of L.A. we never die..
And we'll let hollow tips fly at Joe..
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
I drive through da desert storm, kick up dust
Red and blue rags hanging outta pick up trucks
Get banks on da phone, nigga hit Young Buck
Tell him we got a problem wit dis dumb fuck
You was just in da city of angels
In da W lobby, in da presence of gangstas
I'm da nigga dat'll beat you wit da stainless
And leave you alive so you can run and tell Skane (bitch)
I got niggas in Jersey, dat'll hang you
I'ma Los Angeles king, wit New York rangers
And you lucky Yayo got dat beeper in his ankle
Joe Buddens da true definition of a wangsta
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
-Game talking-
Dis nigga try and act like he ain't know wat da fuck he was doin
You knew what you was doin nigga
Stop lying to da fuckin people nigga
Go jump on a freestyle, niggas on dat fly shit
Try to dis G-Unit nigga
And I'm on da fuckin first verse
You ain't slick nigga
I caught dat shit like a mother fuckin
Gregg Mayers fastball nigga
50 get Dre on da phone
See if dat nigga remember what Joe Buddens 2nd single was
Cause I don't
I took a survey in da hood nigga, went to da projects
Asked bitches if they was feelin your shit
They was like 'Nope.'
Went to da hood, asked niggas if they was feelin your shit
They was like 'Nope.'
Then I went to Jersey, caught me a fuckin flight man
Took my last $500 man
Flew to jersey, asked niggas in Jersey if they liked your shit
They was like 'Nope.'
So I said fuck it, I'ma take this nigga motha fuckin head off
BlackWallStreet, AfterMath, G-G-G-G-Unit
u know wat it is nigga, and u know where to find me...
Aight
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
And niggaz just be hatin and shit, that's a pity
But I ain't doin nuttin but claimin my city
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
And that's how I'm livin, I do as I please B
A young gangsta put in work on these Cali streets
And everybody knows that you gotta be stompin
If you're born and raised in Compton
Chorus
'Born and raised in Compton'
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
I Made You!
Yes I Made You!
Mr. Potatohead I Made You!
I Made You!
I Made You!
I Made You!
Mr. Potatohead I Made You!
Theres no batteries in my back
I show you niggas how I move (Move Echo)
50 ain't gangsta
Lloyd Banks ain't gangsta
Yayo ain't gangsta
Young Buck, you know you ain't gangsta
You at what you niggas made
Ain't that a bitch
Created a monster
Kicked me outta G-Unit
Put me in converse
Matter of fact give me a dick
Just like Olivia so you can suck my shit
Gimme a pen
So I can be the hardest in the click
Wind me up nigga then gimme some lips
So I can talk about ya faggot
Niggas aint no thugs
While im at it tell Young Buck gimme some white gloves
So I can cover my fingerprints in ya blood
I need a get away car you can put it on dubs
Make sure its got a stash for the 38 snub
And a Banks album cuz thats where I got my buds
Gimme muscles like 50
Gimme Yayo hands
Gimme a collection plate for Ma$e fans
Gimme some glasses so I can watch Mason dance
Who movin? You singing?
Nigga gimme ya fans
Gimme a tattoo tear
Gimme some ears so i can hear police talkin when you disappear
I made you
I made you
I made you
I made you
Mr. Potato Head
I Made you
Yes, I Made you
Mr. Potato Head I Made you!
I Made you
I Made You!
Mr. Potato Head I Made you! (You Echo)
Theres no batteries in my back
I show you niggas how I move.
Yayo: And I'd like to thank game cuz hes mr potato head of the year, 'n' you kn.. a put together gangsta!
Rolling through Connecticut
In a stolen mini-van
Stop at his house
I dont see many men
Matter of fact I dont see any men
One plain clothed cop call him Lieutenant Dan
Officer why ya man tryna beat up my fans?
Makin me 5 times platinum wasnt part of his plan
Same shit same snitch
You know how it goes
I smell a rat even if you take off my nose
And i bet every quarter in your piggy bank
Lloyd told N.Y.P.D. who got 50 shanked
Next time when the lights go out
I'm pulling a desert eagle when the knives come out
Watch that man get ta tussling and the mice run out
Don't gamble with ya life when my dice roll out
I made you
I made you
I made you
I made you
I made you
Mr Potato Head I Made you!
Yes I Made you
Mr Potato Head I Made you!
I Made you!
I Made You!
Mr Potato Head I Made you!
Theres no batteries in my back
I show you Niggas how I move (Move Echo)
50 aint gangsta
Lloyd Banks aint gangsta
Yayo aint gangsta
Young Buck you know you aint gangsta
(Phat Rat talks)
G-G-G-G-G.... NOT!
You bitch ass niggas
Check this out man
I'm not gonna be playing these mother fucking games
Mr. Potato head now you wanna be a comedian nigga
This shit is R-E-A-L nigga!
Real nigga
Black wall street
Wait wait
Like I told you last time
It's THE black wall street you bitch ass nigga
And Oliv... Excuse me OLIVER!
You punk mother fucker
I'm still taking heat from my niggas
For looking at your mother fuckin' ass nigga
You somebodys son
You bitch ass Nigga
I'ma catch up to your ass nigga
Muscle mouth ass bitch
Thats alright though nigga
G-U-Not nigga
This is black wall street nigga
Tell me where you at
Thats all we need to know nigga
Cus this is real nigga
This is the streets nigga
Brazil & Wilmington nigga
In case you didn't know nigga
Thats right in the heart of COMPTON
You Bitch ass nigga
And Olivia
Get that mother fucking lil' ass red
Mother fucking shorts off your mother fucking ass on that video
Everybody can you see your balls bitch
' The fuck is wrong with you
My Niggas know I tried to holla at your bitch ass nigga
Ima fuck you up nigga
It's your fault
50 Snitch
This is Phat Rat nigga
In case you forgot nigga
Double!
Mr. Potatohead I Made You!
I kill who is my enemy
I don't give a fuck
If you talk shit
I make you a follower yeah
You crack me up kid
Your stupid
I'm much more agile then ever
Got more style so yo whatever
Whatever
Whatever (Echoes)
(Swizz Beats)
Aim for the head
when you see em go get em nigga (3x)
(The Game)
yo cass lets they ass know you aint playin wit em
(Swizz Beats)
Aim for the head
when you see em go get em nigga (3x)
(Cassidy)
yo game let them lames know you aint playin wit em
[The Game]
I got my slugs on
gettin my thug on
new era brim low
giovanni rims oh
phantom got curtains, you cant see through the tints so
bought a .45 put the barrel in the window
it's me and swizzle for shizzle
v twizzle the pistols
cock it back if you carry a missle
can't cross both of your arms, nigga fold em back
if you miss soldier slim do the nolia clap
or recline the seats in the rover back
yeah its me and young cass til hov come back
you wanna see us both dead, then load your gat
you be the first nigga to bring penny loafers back
why niggas wanna see me R-I-P
empty the clip in a nigga before I D-I-E
prayin on my downfall like B-I-G
I be in the cockpit ridin dirty like T-I-P
po-po pull me over wanna see I-D
searchin my shit tryin to find my 3 times 3
they don't know I got 4 times 4 in the backseat
wit enough bodies on it to get a nigga 5 times 5
other niggas snitch on em
like if he got the rover parked crooked in the front
he might have bricks on em
I'll send a lil back like the brother of rich porter
run up on you and give you a buck fifty like six quarters
yeah
[Cassidy]
shit real, I know how baggin a whole brick feel
big deal, hit the garage and switch wheels
my chicks real, with the menage in tip drills
gimme a massage, yeah show me how them lips feel
i shinin cause im grindin on the strip still
and I grip steel still keep the clips still
everything I spit real
everything I spit ill
everything I spit sick, for real aint shit switch
aint shit changed, like rick james im rich bitch
get change big change the wrist glist
I'm with Game, I'ma make cake like bisquick
my album went gold in a month, that was a quick flip
dont say shit bitch, cause niggas wit the lip get
er'y one in the gun til it go click click
then I'ma switch clips and squeeze like toothpaste
palm over my forearm so i can shoot straight
im bout to make it hard to eat like toothaches
my flow dope like i go in the booth and shoot base
duece duece the skates in the coupe great
im not broke i cop coke by the suitcase
my boots laced i got base and them white keys
bout to cop a convertible crib, like ice t's
and that ice on your sleeve thats light cheese
I spend a 100 g's a year on white tees
[Swizz Beats]
Aim for the head
when you see em go get em nigga (3x)
[The Game]
yo cass lets they ass know you aint playin wit em
[Swizz Beats]
Aim for the head
when you see em go get em nigga (3x)
[Cassidy]
yo game let them lames know you ain't playin wit em
[The Game]
if you wanna go to war then pop somethin
if you wanna go to war then pop somethin
if you wanna go to war then pop somethin
you can't afford a swizz track nigga stop frontin(2x)
(Swizz Beats)
Aim for the head
when you see em go get em nigga (3x)
(The Game)
yo cass lets they ass know you aint playin wit em
(Swizz Beats)
Aim for the head
when you see em go get em nigga (3x)
(Cassidy)
yo game let them lames know you aint playin wit em
[The Game]
I got my slugs on
gettin my thug on
new era brim low
giovanni rims oh
phantom got curtains, you cant see through the tints so
bought a .45 put the barrel on the window
it's me and swizzle for shizzle
v twizzle the pistols
cock it back if you carry a missle
can't cross both of your arms, nigga fold em back
if you miss soldier slim do the nolia clap
or recline the seats in the rover back
yeah its me and young cass til hov come back
you wanna see us both dead, then load your gat
you be the first nigga to bring penny loafers back
why niggas wanna see me R-I-P
empty the clip in a nigga before I D-I-E
prayin on my downfall like B-I-G
I be in the cockpit ridin dirty like T-I-P
po-po pull me over wanna see I-D
searchin my shit tryin to find my 3 times 3
they don't know I got 4 times 4 in the backseat
wit enough bodies on it to get a nigga 5 times 5
other niggas snitch on em
like if he got the rover parked crooked in the front
he might have bricks on em
I'll send a lil back like the brother of rich porter
run up on you and give you a buck fifty like six quarters
yeah
[Cassidy]
shit real, I know how baggin a whole brick feel
big deal, hit the garage and switch wheels
my chicks real, with the menage in tip drills
gimme a massage, yeah show me how them lips feel
i shinin cause im grindin on the strip still
and I grip steel still keep the clips still
everything I spit real
everything I spit ill
everything I spit sick, for real aint shit switch
aint shit changed, like rick james im rich bitch
get change big chain the wrist glist
I'm with Game, I'ma make cake like bisquick
my album went gold in a month, that was a quick flip
dont say shit bitch, cause niggas wit the lip get
er'y one in the gun til it go click click
then I'ma switch clips and squeeze like toothpaste
palm over my forearm so i can shoot straight
im bout to make it hard to eat like toothaches
my flow dope like i go in the booth and shoot base
duece duece the skates in the coupe great
im not broke i cop coke by the suitcase
my boots laced i got base and them white keys
bout to cop a convertible crib, like ice t's
and that ice on your sleeve thats light cheese
I spend a 100 g's a year on white tees
[Swizz Beats]
Aim for the head
when you see em go get em nigga (3x)
[The Game]
yo cass lets they ass know you aint playin wit em
[Swizz Beats]
Aim for the head
when you see em go get em nigga (3x)
[Cassidy]
yo game let them lames know you ain't playin wit em
[The Game]
if you wanna go to war then pop somethin
if you wanna go to war then pop somethin
if you wanna go to war then pop somethin
you can't afford a swizz track nigga stop frontin(2x)
[Game]
yo, yo, yo
who shot me?
some punk motherfuckers i aint never seen before in my life
gotta pay that price
when you in the hood hustlin, 24 hours a day
guns bustin, the fiends need yay
so im in the kitchen with them pirex pots
flip em like spatchulas, supply em hot
im in the yard everyday around 12 o'clock
they call me russel simons how i sell that rock
im in the hood and the new CL is hot
gotta be 310, with a sprewells is stock
im not sure if its v12 or not, im not into cars
i just like to park em outside of drug seminars
i took shots like 50 dogg
the 1 in the heart got me ready to die like biggie was
and if i ever see them niggas again
just rent me with a u-haul, and move my shit to the pen
im from Compton, they say im real sick with the pen
throw Jay-z in the pot, mix em with ren
or O.J on the rocks, mix em with gin
whatchu got? the westcoast riding again
but this time aint gone be no beefing
the trucks got 6 stash spots, aint gone be no creeping
creep up on my passengers side
you must be asking to die
empty the 44 mag in his thighs
and hop out, and put the rest in your neck
then ride off to that bone thug shit on life after death
im on that tupac thug shit, ride to my death
in the hood with a M16 around my neck
looking like Old Dogg of dead presidents
at the beginning of the movie, Comptons back
this the beginning of the movement, my dogs is strapped
holla at my nigga X', where yonkers at?
tell em i ruff ride threw manhattan on a harley
if you cant catch me now, be at the rich carlton
after that catch me chilling in Harlem
inside that Cam'ron pink Aston Martin
blowing that sour diesle and listening to bob marley
then theres still a W, Diddy's throwing a party
im here with T-mac, aint no clapping me down
one shot at the bar, aint no clapping me down
you know Fase got a gun homie
i got a gun on me (shots)
thats where im from homie
so before all that crazy talking
big legends 89 and this eazy talking
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
[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]
[The Game]
You can catch five, or catch me in the CL-5
Whatever way dog, the Game get live
Keepin it gangsta in a P.D. city velour
Late night I'm in Dublin's and I got myself a four
The hood love me, hoodrats gotta hug me
Pop ex, spark the buba, the shit get ugly
Rock the mic anywhere, and I ain't talkin 'bout a concert dog
Talkin 'bout ten niggaz in Converse dog
Get it crackin like we out in the yard, and the warden's watchin
Only difference is the whores is watchin
Still love to see a nigga, roll up on 20's
Hop in that six-four, roll up on Bentley's like
I'm a gangsta bay-bee, from the C-P-T
Run with the +Pound+ like I'm from DPG
If it's beef, you C-Murder like it ain't No Limit
And I represent the P like Russell Simmons
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
I'm a neighborhood superstar, get it, right
Got it? Good, okay
It's the Black Sox and Get Low we get dough
In the Yay they pimp hoes, in Compton we six-fo'
[JT the Bigga Figga]
I know ya, love to watch me, 'specially when I'm lookin rocky
The trey with the broccoli with my handles on the Kawasaki
Handle my jewels with the cuff in my shoes
AD jacket on my elbow, 50 coast the jewels
In my neighborhood I'm Young Bill Gates, never shuffle the cake
So cover my face, and run up in the place
I'm a superstar, dick and my chain, glass bezel and bang
80 karats on my pinky and rang
Crews buzz when you speakin my name, cause I'm deep in the game
With top cool thangs and million dollar planes
I'm a maniac, young boy gone, like a young Roy Jones
You ought of my zone and ain't nobody home
In my neighborhood, produce stars, stakes is high
Now we soarin through the spacious skies
Drop yo' body with them cakes and ride, the handle is up
Switchin gears with the pedal and ride
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I'm a shining star
And I gotta hit the boulevard in that new Jaguar
Why he move through traffic like that, purple haze
Ralways, the Ojays, the gangsta lean so
Please believe that I keep two G's in my jeans
Two gats in my sleeve, two rats in my Beam'
X-5, mami let's ride
Weave in and out of traffic from Compton to Bed-Stuy
It's the kid from the far West I, oh, shit
He know how to do more than flip pies
Get money like them stick up guys
Them 'Ocean 11' licks got the young kid rich for life
And I talkin 'bout a movie or George Clooney
I'm talkin 'bout, runnin in your spots with uzis tucked in the Coogi
Dude me? Naw truly, might lose your lives
They say I've, got 2K2 covered like A.I.
[Chorus]
[JT]
Yeah mayne, I told y'all mayne
Fillmoe California nigga where we launch the best nigga
JT the Bigga Figga, San Quinn, D-Moe the Yungsta, Seff the Gaffla
Introducin the Game
Nigga the first nigga I went and got outside of the Fillmoe district
Y'knahmtalkinbout? Yeah mayne
And we gon' pass him on off to Aftermath Records mayne
So they can take him to the T-O-P
Y'knahmtalkinbout Dr. Dre and the whole Aftermath staff, y'knahmtalkinbout?
But this album right here, this a Get Low, JT the Bigga Figga production
My nigga Charlie-O on the beat, y'knahmtalkinbout?
And we keepin it real thuggish mayne, Bay Area style nigga
Black Wall Street, now let's get MONEY!
Chorus
-- Don't cry don't..
-- Don't cry don't..
Amayah wake up baby
I know you're sleepin, but daddy's home now
Pictures gettin old, my lil' girl lookin grown now
Your moms said you're talkin on your own, walkin on your own now
Run across the kitchen floor in them baby drawers
I sent you from off tour and I miss you when I was tourin
Smilin at them baby pictures, so happy, tears pourin
God how can somethin so beautiful come from me?
After the gunshots thought you was done with me
But I know I'm livin now, why you made me put the guns down
Pick up the mic, start rappin for a living now
My sun, my moon, my starts, my earth
My wind, my fire, my life, my bay-bay
Tryin to make your moms life ya must be crazy, fussin and fightin
I know she love me cause ya look just like me
Day you came into this world I was so excited
Eleven twenty-one double-zero, my baby girl is here
Chorus
Yo, yo, you see this rap shit I do it for you
And the first time I heard your voice I prayed to God it had to be true
Got a son now, cuttin the game, stoppin the bullshit
Remember eyein your enemy, can you pull quick
Dipped out Cali, came back, snatched my son
my girl moms and I moved out Maui
Yeah your pops gone bananas, seen wild went hard
Bigger house, wider yard, nappy with the crash bar
Off that hersh', shit you stupid, you ain't no dad nigga
Takin your black ass to court for all you have nigga
You see me and your moms, that's another topic
Ain't no whip in this world with a price you can't cop it
Stop it, press rewind, you didn't hear me right
It's a lesson to the song, I'm tryin to steer you right
Just remember your father taught you to go hard or go home
Never sing that sad song, don't cry
Chorus
Huh daddy ain't gon' preach to you, I'ma let your moms school you
Don't let the streets fool you, streets'll do you, that's why I'm talkin to you
Yeah, you see these niggaz out here, have you stressin by the hour
Never turn your back on your foes, them dudes cowards
Some days sweet, and some sour - but we gon' make it together
The world is ours, and you're my flower
If it's ice you can get that, model chicks hit that
Never stress about the downfalls just 'bout the getback
And I ain't sayin sex is wrong, just make sure he strap a condom on
And never, ever do it in your mother's home
Yeah, never call a girl a bitch, show respect, son pop ya collar
Ain't nothin free, scrape and lock every dollar
And I will leave you with this, my lil' angel, daddy loves you
How I'd die for you, cry for you, ride for you
Yeah, switchin handles like you breakin a zone, candy paint Impala
On the Golden Bridge, bouncin on chrome
Chorus
Uhh, uhh, gangsta gangsta yeah
Uhh, uhh, it's gangsta gangsta yeah
Uhh, uhh, shit I'm livin gangsta gangsta shit
Yeah
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
I'm from Compton, Compton, Murderville
You heard these niggaz is gangsters, and they kill
Rob and steal, my niggaz will peel at will
For real they real, niggaz gon' feel this steel
[The Game]
Walk with me through the ghetto where the packs get sold
And them niggaz sellin the work ain't half as old
as the fiends and the hippies, same ones smokin since the 60's
Everybody yellin gimme, gimme
Every nigga in the hood, one hand on his jimmy
Other hand grip the semi, c'mon walk with me
Every ten houses, one got 'caine for sale
And I give you a dope track like my name Phar-rell
And you can get that stainless steel
Walk in my Chuck Taylors for a day, if you think it ain't f'real
When I buy rocks homey baguettes on my ring
And only neighborhood watch is my Tecno Marine
Keep a +Mac+ on the block, I ain't talkin 'bout Beans
QB in the hood and I'm far from Queens
The boys in the hood is always hard
So come through and get smoked like a Cuban cigar
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I'm from Compton, Compton, a block from hell
And you can come get a bird for eleven
And we ain't got a penny for the reverand, a dime for a witness
Only +Church's+ in the hood sell chicken (ba-KAW)
Every nigga in the hood sell chickens move work like city buses
You fuckin with the Hub City Hustler
The vans on the block won't touch us, the streets my home
So I move weight on the block like I'm Moses Malone
Bring the guns anywhere I roam, go with the chrome
And I hit all my shots, like I'm in the A.I. zone
And mob like Al Capone through N.W.A.'s home
Homes like Ed Jones will cripple your team up
In the home of Dr. Dre, Venus and Serena
Where 14-year-olds pack ninas and drive Beamers
We ball up subpeonas, take niggaz to the cleaners
And you know what I'm talkin about if y'all seen where..
[Chorus]
[The Game]
We drug dealin, but niggaz is squealin (fuck you rats)
What more can I say, just kill 'em
Fuck 'em, the gun bust 'em, we just knock on wood
Now is this under-stooooooood?
I mostly George when I whip, my supply is good
The man behind the bricks, I'm supplyin the hood
Catch bodies like Pistol Pete passes on the wood
Benz parked by the fence, brick stashed in the hood
Top work by the inch, I bag it, it's gone
Ask Quik, we rock more than microphones
Some niggaz ball, some niggaz do what we do
And other niggaz sing for Cash Money like TQ
The block will heat and sink you (hey dude)
Cali ain't all palm trees, purple haze and sea dude
Lose your life tryin to get these jewels
I keep the 40 cal wrapped in chrome like R2-D2
[Chorus]
[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
I want my unsigned hype
Like Kanye want his five mics
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
[Verse 1]
Crip niggaz, Blood niggaz, Essay's, Asians,
Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, White Boyz, Jamaicans,
Latin Kingz, Disciples, Vicelords, Hatians,
All these mutha fuckas been patiently waiting,
Since the west coast fell off the steets been watchin,
The west coast neva fell off i was asleep in Compton,
Aftermath been here the beats been knockin,
Nate Dogg doin his thing DPG still poppin,
I got California love fuckin bitches to that Pac shit,
And westside connection been had it locked bitch,
I'm in the rear view my guns is cockin,
I'll put red dots on that nigga head like rodman,
All stars, phat laces, gun charge, court cases,
Faught that, not guilty im 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 ur CA back,
And i dont do button up shirts or drive Maybacks,
All u old record labels tryin to advance,
Aftermath bitch take it like a mutha fuckin man,
[chorus x2]
If you take a look in my eyes,
You see i'll be a gangsta 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 spinnin, chrome hydraulics
Run up on my low-low you stop breathin,
Hollow tips make niggas dissappear like houdini,
Gang bangin is real,
Homie im livin proof like Snoop Dogg C-Walkin on top of da devils roof,
Rap critics wanna converse, about this and that,
Cuz red strings in this converse and this a Dre track,
Keep jibberin jabberin i'll pull a .38 magnum,
And get the clickin and clackin,
You'll homies will wanna kno what happened,
Come to Compton and see thriller like Mike Jackson,
I might be Spike Lee, of this gun clappin,
Prior to rappin I was drug traffic, and
In the dope spot playin John Madden,
Homie I aint braggin, 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 im doin my thing,
Got me fuckin wit G-Unit you kno 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 gangsta 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 ur roof,
Leave your ass steched out like a Cadilac Coupe,
God gotta let me in heaven all the shit I been through,
I was an OG in the hood before i truned 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,
Im startin to feel the pressure,
I'm lyrically Kool G. Rap on these Dre Records
[chorus x2]
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
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
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
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
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
[Verse one]
fuck it
yo
who the best mc on the west? by far its me
and in my car is a continental tea
and my broad in that continental suite
with the armadell rollin up dutches like that motherfuckers
beef with the kid click-clack motherfuckers
let them bullets burn your six pack motherfuckers
get jacked motherfucker when you come to compton
get a mack motherfucker when you come to compton
i walk through times square holdin my johnson
a cross style make a jada make a run threw yonkers
i got d-blocks like the locks
and these glocks like to pop
and n**** i like your watch
so roll over you can die with the jury
first n**** take the stand to testify he gunna die with the jury
and i might kidnap the judge or send a team to lean on you so the D.A budge
i got n****** that'll ride for a grand so handover my rock
or like earl manson you can die where you stand or you can die with your man
i'll let you jog for about 30 seconds then you gunned down
[chorus 2x]
you know this gl shit we got g's on the line or g's on the squad all week on the grind
and if you doubt that step up cuz we aint hard to find
street kings in our prime you want us then come and try us
[verse two]
ima take it to the next
take it to a motherfuckin neck
pull up on a n***** holdin triggers n tecks
we droppin square beads
you easy to read
this is the end of the road for whole ass mc's
smoke grass by the pound
glock holds 17 rounds
and the flow'll knock any n**** down
rap you like a burrito come threw and kill you and your people
tell them that i shitted on you n*****
like i was a flock a seagulls
infared beam like a traffic jam at night
handle any man in sight
with his hands upon a mic
wanna light i got the torch
im the best california a north
for any n***** puttin flamed on a porche
and never drive on
bitch your gunna die on
san quinn for and five catch a live one
bust shots at the clouds
so we can shine some
get up off ur ass
and n**** and grind some
[chorus]
flash fuckers on the tip of the gat
you can put on flat but ill kill that
ill open u up like a mat
even if u heard'at i squirted and murdered a man
and these new school n***** talk like we heard of them plans
two two millimeters got up up in your man
gettin off on you n***** and your mini-mans
only thing runnin is blood n***** so gimme a grand
so we will bust your head n**** straight through your hand
or get off in yo ass n**** like jackie chan
and when its all said and done it's a one will stand
gunnin this motorbike feelin this power man
185 miles per hour man
i stay cooralatin with the taliban
i show up (show up, show up, show up, show up)
n***** talk about money they forgot the struggle
try to paint a perfect picture they forgot the hustle
pieces of a puzzle
guzzlin pints watchin the moonlight
in the sun light
more gun fights
penetentary fly three kites
ive seen more pussys turn to mics than mices turn to man
so n***** take the stand get stomped by another mans hand
got me naughious in my abdomin
got me servin grams again
grams rapped in rubber bands
22's on them rubbers man
slow rollin dro blowin im gettin rich you see my fro growin ho's knowin i pimp them to the fullest
respect a gangsta you can shoot but i eat to the bullets
i shit missles
eyeballs look like crystals
my shits official
its your man motion man and merifrista
yo yo yo yo
its luke and everything i sit on fat
n***** be like oh shit how a n**** shit on that?
y'all see a n**** grit on tracks
fuck with the red beam
get a n**** hit on that
fuck with the real thing not the 760
the reason that they took the fair team to get me
you dont want it with my dogs
you got teeni guys
i mean itsy bitsy little tiny weeni guys
i done seen them guys
bought as big as my gats
and aint even got enough strength to pull on that
you want real hard core shit i be on that
cop the xlt u put threes on that
put cheese on hats
when luchi goes n squeeze on gats
and leave these on flats
g's messin low they got g's on that
and have your momma outside screamin please dont clap
[chorus]
[Swizz Beatz]
Yeah... y'all really want this to happen? (Game time!)
C'mon! ... ARRRRRRRRGH!
[The Game]
Homey it's hard not to kill niggaz; it's like a full time job
not to pull out the steel and shove it in your grill
Young California got that mass appeal
I summons the hood, they get up in yo' ass for real
Knockout flow, Winky Wright jab for real
And all you niggaz pussy, need Massengil
See I'm the gun-cocker, one-shotter, lift 'em off the ground
Chop 'em down, like a cantaloupe, my flow the antidote
Sick flow, it's so, motherfuckin six-fo'
Your bitch know, hop in the back when you see Swizz hoe
Diss that, all you niggaz get up off my dick so
I can cook crack on the track and watch it mix slow
Cocaine, my flow fire, call it propane
Every nigga know Game, five shots no pain
And that's the reason why I'm shittin on you niggaz
Shut me in the looney bin, I'm sicker than you niggaz
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
(ARRRRRRRRGH!)
This is that disrespectful, motherfuckin West coast
Hip-hop death blow, Swizz Beatz, let's go!
[The Game]
Where I'm from, I seen the most stand up niggaz lay down
Where skinny niggaz make buff niggaz victims of that trey-pound
And gangbangers is the sharpshooters, we don't need no rooftops
Just knock his ass down and take the money out his tube socks
West coast niggaz is back on the map
If only for now until the next time I body a track
From the first clap I hurt rap, now watch the earth crack
Bring the hearse back, and take a lyrical dirt nap
I roll with the hardest niggaz, make money with the smartest niggaz
I ain't got time for you fuckin artist niggaz
Better shut your trap before you become a target nigga
Y'all army brats I'm the motherfuckin sargeant nigga
Beauty pageant-ass niggaz on the runway
(Boyz N The Hood) 'til they see the nigga in that red Hyundai
Blow his fuckin back out, cause I'm the rap Stackhouse
Black Wall Street bitch, the hip-hop crackhouse, what?
[Chorus]
[The Game]
My flow opposite of handsome, it's ugly
Hip hop tantrum, sick, call the shit cancer
One man show cause I fucked all the dancers
Let the critics ask questions, my album be the answer
These niggaz let the rumors sit in they head like tumors
So I had to take 'em back, to toothbrush on the Pumas
Clean... mean... rappin machine
Red rag hangin low in the back of my jeans
I black out like February, back out what's necessary
Oh-seven Bugatti with Jimmy Iovine's secretary
I'm runnin the buildin, don't make me run in the buildin
No this ain't the first time I had my gun in the buildin
Walkin past offices I see my son in the buildin
Last album on the wall I'm number one in the buildin
They should build me an office up under the buildin
My elevator goin down, I am done in the buildin nigga
[Chorus]
[Swizz Beatz]
We in the motherfuckin buildin man
You ain't got your motherfuckin mind right?
You gon' get your mind blown out your motherfuckin mind right nigga
It is what the fuck it is man
How y'all wanna cut the cake?
You touch this you get your hands cut off, nigga
Swizz Beatz the motherfuckin monster
Game is in the motherfuckin buildin
We could turn this whole motherfuckin world red nigga
Bitch!
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'
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
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
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
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
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'
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
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...
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
Real gangstaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply cause I'm mad at you
[The Game]
Y'all niggaz see me when I'm come through; and ain't no denyin
that them big motherfuckers is twenty-five
Swayin in and out of white line, six double-oh
Deuce zeroes, I'm feelin like the streets is mine
Mines hustle, mucho dinero, heat's confined
See more fall guys than Foreman/Ali combined
If there's beef, I'm releasin mine
And I won't stop bustin 'til them Escalade seats recline
The kid roll with a greasy nine, come through and blast
I return shots like Arthur Ashe
You do the math, ten shots, ten dead bodies
Fuck bein sorry, it ain't nuttin but a gangsta party
And I'll make sure ain't a nigga survivin
Shoot up the ambulance, make sure it ain't a nigga there to revive him
And the Game ain't tryin to win, fuck the awards
So keep that little-ass horn, and that Neil Armstrong nigga
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Trust me dog, ain't shit you can put in your rap
that'll make you a gangsta, you a bitch and that's that
Niggaz thinkin I retired my Chuck, put the gun back in the holsters
Cause I weave through traffic in a roaster
But that don't stop the heater from bangin, or me comin through
Droppin all y'all niggaz with three in the chamber
Keep two mac-10's when I'm rollin, one in the changer
One when I push the button's right next to the cupholder
Dog we can get this shit over, I got ten on the Game
Let's say that Lee Harvey crack ya brain
Ain't gotta look over my shoulder, I'm good with the aim
Good with the handle and the bullet's good with the bloodstains
And the coroner's real good with that pickup
A1 good with the carpet cleaning, they can get the rest of that shit up
Cause I kill like the hiccups, two at a time
Put you niggaz next to each other how I do 'em in line
[Chorus]
[The Game]
Come through in a big boy, leave the bullshit at home
If beef cook then I'm bringin the chrome
If I die then I'm leavin a clone; but if I live
through the drama one mo' time then them boys gotta dig
When I think about who shot me, I listen to Big
When I'm rhymin on the road, I listen to Jig
Bump Nas off that purple, sittin on the block
And when I'm loadin up them clips, I listen to 'Pac
A semi with me like Eddie Murphy, got mo' guns
than F-A, B-O, L-O, U-S got jerseys
And you might get 'em all in the face when shit get thick
Make the back of your head look like Jerome Kearsey
And ain't nuttin to do a driveby in the hood
We ain't even got survival, but I'ma still take that ride
Bet my drink on it, bet my main squeeze mink on it
Think this shit a joke? Bet the S-5 pink on it
[Chorus]
[The Game]
As my, Daytons spin, lowrider sittin low
Hittin corners so hard you can taste my rims
Rag top six-fo', Henny in the passenger side
Smokin chronic just (Let Me Ride)
You would do it if my name was Dre, second comin motherfucker
Throw it up for the king of L.A.
I'm known for makin bitches take they clothes off
Long as I'm from Compton, California I could never go soft
I'm hard as a motherfuckin ounce of raw
Dribble rock like Kobe Bryant bounce the ball
Fuck the law!! Feedin my son is a must
Whip it soft, whip it hard, in crack we trust
Why Andrew Jackson look high as fuck on the 20, G answer
Cocaine been around for centuries
Since I'm young, black and rich, I'm the (Public Enemy)
Ridin the bass drum, Just Blaze got the (Remedy)
[Chorus]
[scratched:] "Now they got me in a cell" - Chuck D
I got the remedy
[scratched:] "Now they got me in a cell" - Chuck D
Aftermath got the remedy
[scratched:] "Now they got me in a cell" - Chuck D
Nigga back up (back up) back up (back up)
'Fore you get your punk-ass smoked
[The Game]
I ain't no joke G, so don't provoke me
I'm from the city of angels where that Jacob watch is a trophy
And starin at that Hollywood sign'll get you straight jacked
(Where you from fool?) Better say you pro-black
Causin walkin in Roscoe's wit'cha chain hangin
is like Giuliani tryin to get rid of the gangbaners
Now that 'Pac passed, tryin to put us on Death Row
Get ready for the Aftermath
I run through the city like Godzilla
Doin mo' damage than Ice-T when he dropped (Cop Killer)
Pull a shotty out the trunk of the Chevy
There go another victim of a one-eight-seven
Who's the grim reaper wit'cha life in his hand
Even the toughest niggaz run when my gun go... blam
So kick back and watch the bitches dance
N.W.A. is back, now let me see your motherfuckin hands
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I'm back by popular demand and so
All black interior on the cherry red six-fo'
Niggaz endin they careers tryin to shut me up
Actin like I traded in my khakis for a button up
The West Coast still dippin
Game still Bloodin, and Snoop still Crippin
So what you sayin loc? Red and blue bandana
tied in a knot, as I creep through the chronic smoke
They say it ain't good weed if you don't choke
Shit got my head spinnin like the hundred spokes
Three wheelin through the neighborhood
System on blast, as the motherfuckin one-time pass
The key to drivebys is aim steady
Turn that Bape hoody into motherfuckin confetti
When you cross that enemy line
Close your eyes, (Parental Discretion Iz Advised)
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
[Chorus: Keyshia Cole]
See, ever since the day I got the chance to make a change
I've been in this game, it's a new day
And I'm making it known 'cause I just want the world to know
I'm paying my dues, and I got the utmost, I just wanna let you know
I'm payin' homage 'cause you've paved the way for me, yeah
[Verse 1: The Game]
I swear to God, it feel like every day is my birthday
Let the top down, California's my birthplace
So I'ma take you there like B.I.G took niggaz to New York
"Juicy" had us feeling like we was from New York
And that's real shit blazed the Philly
It's summertime shout out to Will Smith
'cause who didn't wanna be the Fresh Prince
Flat top, gold chain and some fresh kicks?
My nigga Nas told me money make the world go round
And Uncle Luke showed me how to make my girl go down
I've been around Hip Hop since '85
She had her ups and downs but she stayed alive
I used to think LL stood for Love LA
He from Queens, how the fuck he put that with Cool J?
Red Kangol hat, red sweatsuit to match
Red Adidas, nigga, Game is back
[Chorus]
And ever since the day I got the chance to make a change
I've been in this game, it's a new day
And I'm making it known 'cause I just want the world to know
I'm paying my dues, and I got the utmost, I just wanna let you know
I'm payin' homage 'cause you've paved the way for me, yeah
[Verse 2]
Public Enemy and N.W.A is on my boombox, had to say
Yoday was a good day, had the hood buzzin'
Ice Cube my favorite rapper, y'all niggaz can't tell me nothin'
Everybody's first bootleg was Boyz 'n the Hood
Whoever thought gangsta rap would make noise in the hood
When the cars ride by with the boomin' system
Two door Mustang and the roof was missing
Every girl at ya school had the new extensions
Even gangstaz was dancin' like New Edition
'cause the house parties stayed rockin' all night
Niggas came through and shot it up but it was alright
'cause after the cops left, it was a party then
You down with OPP, then bring Naughty in
They say it never rain in southern California, Tony Toni lied
Sit back, watch Game throw his money in the sky
[Chorus]
And ever since the day I got the chance to make a change
I've been in this game, it's a new day
And I'm making it known 'cause I just want the world to know
I'm paying my dues, and I got the utmost, I just wanna let you know
I'm payin' homage 'cause you've paved the way for me, yeah
[Verse 3]
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M get the money
In the back, I relax with all the hunnies
DJ bring it back, let it go
Mix it in with Black Rob, make 'em say WHOA!
Every thing full circle, Game livin' major
Girls on my hip like a Skytel pager
Now I'm on the top, let the champagne pop
Throw ya hands in the sky 'cause The Game don't stop
Just a little more change, gotta Benz and the Range
Every rap metaphor always ends in my name:
The Kool Hercs, DJ Red Alerts
Before I was born they was talking 'bout The Game
Ask a Jay-Z fan 'bout Big Daddy Kane
Don't know him, Game gonna show 'em
Just like they showed me, my lyrics is O.G
When it's all said and done, you niggas gon' quote me
[Chorus]
And ever since the day I got the chance to make a change
I've been in this game, it's a new day
And I'm making it known 'cause I just want the world to know
I'm paying my dues, and I got the utmost, I just wanna let you know
I'm payin' homage 'cause you've paved the way for me, yeah
[Outro: Keyshia Cole]
See, Mary J. I want you to understand you paved the way (for me)
I'm givin' homage (to you)
[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.......
[JT]
Three wheel motion around the corner on these niggaz mayne
Smashin down the block, Charlie O beat in the deck
Game, what it do? (What it do?)
[The Game]
They love the way a nigga hop them six-fours and shit
The way I, push buttons make them Diablo doors lift
The way I, stick and move, when I'm behind the wheel
of that new Escalade with the Foreman grill
The way I, peel back niggaz jerseys
It ain't your life, I'm just not a big fan of James Worthy
So wait 'til I see y'all, I'm real surgical with the Ruger
But you won't catch my face on E.R.
But you might catch them dudes from the ambulance
Squattin on top of ya mans givin 'em each CPR
Tryin to get 'em to "Breathe Again" like Toni Braxton
Told y'all 'bout comin to Cali, with them phony accents
Hollywood got movies, but it ain't no actin
So wear that bling to them awards like it ain't no jackers
We chain snatchers (twenty-fo' seven)
[Chorus: JT]
When you're on the West coast - eat ya beats alive
When ya come to the lab - eat ya beats alive
Fuckin with this cash - eat ya beats alive
Cause it's all about math - eat ya beats alive
When you're on the West coast - eat ya beats alive
When ya come to the lab - eat ya beats alive
All about this cash - eat ya beats alive
Nigga all about math - eat ya beats alive
[The Game]
It ain't nuttin to spray you faggots
Or have your moms get you a Burberry suit so you look good in that casket
It's {*reversed*} you faggots, desperado in tact
June, Drago, The Game and D-Mac (holla)
Come through in a grim reaper black Cadillac
Seven-three, ooh-wee, you see, who he
With the ugliest, flows, money hungriest
Oh, the kid got hoes, you ain't know?
Head is never optional, get my whistle, blizzow
Carry pistols, to your Sources and your Grammys
Of course it's that nigga that kick down doors
And leave rooms filled with corpses, Jordan and bloody Air Forces
To get my dough I come back like Air Jordan
Same shot, lil' older, still no nigga can hold him
Stepped back, sold crack let the Compton streets mold him
Big face said I could it, he'll bet you a G
[Chorus]
[JT]
See I'm the nigga with the most flow
Figgaro from killer Cali, reppin Get Low, niggaz know
Independent with my hustle
Couldn't give a fuck money or muscle it's time to bubble
West coast is the place where we holdin it down
Bay area thuggin, they knowin it now
I'm from the home of the Get Low, home of the get dough
Home where they want mo' so niggaz get they pistol
Run up in yo' back do', lookin for the cheddar cheese
Canary wristwatch on celebrities
Diamond bezelled iced out with hella cheese
And every fuckin link is like a masterpiece
Catch 'em slippin comin out the Burger King
Parkin lot project life, we like to spark a lot
Better known as a bandit, niggaz cain't stand it
My whole block gets hard like granite
[Chorus]
[JT] Nigga
Yo, it's the nigga with the nasty flow and the clean rag six-four
With the D's spinnin I can bag a ho
Top down so my rag can show, whatever in the dutch
Purple or orange haze it's just a bag of 'dro
Hit snatch with my khakis on, Aladdin Lounge
In Mark Jacobs denim and Don Magli's on
I'm a gangsta and the birds they love it
20 with a babyface and sit on base like Kirby Puckett
You can't buy a Ferrari fuck it, cop lle' from J
The bricks come with Louis Vuitton luggage
He order rock and cover it, the dimes is free
The quarters is 75, the ball is live
Ain't nobody fumblin on my block
We in the field like Biggs or Marshall Faulk, we runnin the rock
Nothin less than a hundred a pop, anything less you a cop
Shoot you and take your vest and your glock, motherfuckers
Chorus
What'chu know about stackin G's; you got to come fuck wit me
Puffin on sticky green; you got to come fuck wit me
My team is just oh so clean; you got to come fuck wit me
What'chu know about stackin G's; you gots to come fuck wit me
I'm in the streets like the place is mine, told to cover my tracks
I push paper to increase my shine
I'm on my chief, jumpin out the wagon like Tyco
And get the kind of paper that these niggaz'll die fo'
Bossed out, camouflage under my vest B
Motorbike, fast cars, broads and jetskis
Rule #1, keep your eye on your cash flow
Cause rule #2 will get rid of your best so
None of 'em best show, ridin in stress mode
'less they got petrol, pushin that Benz slow
Pick up the Game, let's count some cash
Then we, get to the do', then you put on your mask
On some other shit, ridin wit'cha boy now
We on the West coast, seek and destroy now
It's like when Cal-Berkeley whooped on that Georgetown
We had a riot in the streets fin' to blow now fo'sho' now
Chorus
The underboss, ill too fast
Buildin my stocks off the blocks and the wears will sag
Not Gil but tryin to top, the nerd Bill Gates
From the city of project buildings and them mossberg K's
San Francisco, West coast, Northern Bay, California
Man it's Get Low so best to toast, or torch'll spray on ya
Uhh, makin mafia moves, skate from the cops
Yeah they tried stoppin ya dude
But nah, the ball, it don't stop
A shot callin if I fall then my thoughts gon' flock
Yeah, underboss with Game and Doc Figgaro
Clear {?} and I'm the in-di-vi-dual
Holdin weight, in the dope state
Tokin the 8-8, oh, fold {?}
Watch our bread and our team skyrocket
Visualize I can rip beam on the cash and not 8 guys can't stop it
Chorus
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]
'Livin in Compton, California C-A'
Charlie O, drop that hot shit
Motherfucker it's the Game, mister tint the windows wit'cha brain
Since a young'n up and comin, all I did was cop 'caine
They try and change the Game, nigga I still cop 'caine
I ain't moved out the hood, still stay where the cops came
Bitches tryin to throw salt in my name, barbers tryin to part my game
Niggaz tryin to chalk my frame
But I walk on a thin line without scuffin my Chucks
Bad Boyyyyy, and I fuck with Puff
So bring the guns if you want nigga; I'm real good with the glock
And 50 G's say you leave in a box
When I fuck Lil' Kim guess I'm feelin like 'Pac
Niggaz wanna wrestle The Game, guess they feel like The Rock
'It doesn't matter,' 745 up and down your block
Hop out with a Nextel, niggaz feel like they shot
It's different in my hood, only time we take shots
is when the Dodgers did good, my niggaz live on the block
Chorus
This is for the gangster, in me
This is for the gangster, in you - all my gangsters pour the brew
This is for the gangster, in me
This is for the gangster, in you - all my gangsters red and blue
I'm worldwide with this gangsta lean, my life's no dream
I got a crew in Jamaica, Queens
Lake Charles up to New Orleans in D.C. I sip
My thugs get crunk off Lil' Flip
State to state many shows I rip, I'm the boss of the Bay
Like Clint Eastwood, make my day
Fine bitches look like Lisa Raye, plot on gettin paid
In the end, all they get is played
Maybe a nut, no Ice Capade
Real dudes is shiesty, I only give jewels to wifey
And I don't give a fuck if you really don't like me
It's in my blood to thug, get ill and hyphy
One of the best I might be, it really don't matter
When I bust, sucker MC's scatter, gettin out of my way
I bust bad bitches night and day
I make classics like Dr. Dre, closed casket from rhymes I say
Chorus
... Gon' move in on your rock, say fuck the crisis
And ride with the West we got lower coat prices
You know me the king of L.A., New York
Drivin through Brooklyn in a fo', same color as water
You want X? I can cover the order
Ninety-fo' been hustlin now watch the shit elevate like Vince Carter
Not the rap martyr, or the second rap Carter
Compton's own, I'm home, not the best I just rap harder
Heir to the throne, nobody rep Compton like me
Street spinnin like waves on that Continental T
My grandmoms woulda been proud of me, look at your grandson now
'Til my demis, Black Mafia ties
So it's hard to let the larcent die, my {?} treys
A killer changin the game like them Marcy guys
And I been compared to Shyne like Shyne was compared to Biggie
I'm from Compton, he from New York City, c'mon really?
Chorus
'This Is How We Do (Fresh '83)'
(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 hyrdolics, 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
Sellin that skunk, one hand on my gun
I was sellin rocks when Master P was sayin 'Unnnh'
Buck pass the blunt
These G-Unit girls just wanna have, fun
Coke and rum
Got weed on the ton
I'm bangin 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-co-lade
Low pro so look like I'm riding on blades
In one year mang, a nigga's so paid
I have a straight bitch in the telly goin 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 rockin with the best tre pound on my hip
Teflon on my chest
They say I'm no good
Cuz I'm so hood
Rich folks do not want me around
Cuz 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 Chevy Six-Four
White walls so clean it's like I'm riding on bulbs
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 rockin 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
Thinkin I'm a punk
Get your fuckin 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!)
[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 should I sell dope for a fo-finger ring
Money and them gold ropes
Santa told me if I pass could get a sheep skin coat
If I can move a few packs and get the hat, now that'd be dope
Tossed and turned in my sleep at night
Woke up the next morning niggas done stole my bike
Different day same shit, ain't nothing good in the hood
I'd run away from this bitch and never come back if I could
[Chorus (50 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]
[Nas]
Y'all know what it is...
The streets named me Illmatic, for that I'm still at it..
Can't hate us....
Fellas...
[Verse 1]
Vice behind me on the intersection,
Sex and drugs, my anthology on perfection,
Dress superb, admired by conspirers,
Who wanna try me, but ain't high enough to four-five me up,
Child of the eighties, y'all n***as is lazy,
Complain about labour pains, n***a show me the baby,
And my n***a Game, light another L, pass the bottle,
Pro-black, I don't take cotton out of aspirin bottles,
Yeah, I learnt my lessons, and heard y'all snitchin',
Witnessin' you rockin'(?) with Nas, confirmed my suspicion,
Green fatigues on, My n***as I bleed for 'em,
I can show 'em the water, but can't make 'em drink it,
And I can show 'em my fortunes but can't force 'em to think rich,
And still I don't abort 'em (?) when and if they sink quick,
Ignore the ignorance, I rep the brilliance of Queensbridge,
And pray to fans, let Murder Inc. live...
[8 Bars... kind of]
[The Game]
I don't talk about my guns, n***a I just blaze....
[Verse 2]
'Pac is watchin', Big is listenin',
While Pun talkin' to us, Jam Jay still spinnin',
To every n***a listenin'
I was supposed to be amongst kings, my Mom shouted out at my Christening.
And while you still listenin', Shyne locked in a man hole,
Cam got shot inside his lambo', sample, life is a gamble,
15 years old red rag around my hand, My sisters used to laugh and call me 'Rambo',
Seen Eazy's legacy melt away like a candle,
I rekindled the flame,
Dre created The Game,
N***a with an attitude from the cloth I came,
Young homie ate his way up from the bottom of the food chain.
Keep the crown, clown, I rock an LA Dodger Fitted,
I showed my ass at Summer Jam but New York was down with it,
Now the ball's in my court, never dribble out of bounds with it.
Behind the back to Nas, he alley oop to Jigga, N***a
[8 Bars]
[Verse 3]
Me and nasty puffin', this a classic, trust me,
How you gon' pass the dutchie (?) to them n***as that don't love me,
I'm talkin' n***as that never wanted to see me on top,
Same n***as that never wanted to see the Doctor's Advocate drop, flop, I think not,
I'll fuck you rap n***as like virgins,
Dre took my training wheels off his curtains.
I don't need no encore, no claps, no cheers,
The Game ain't over, this the beginning of my career,
The ending of yours, the endin of his,
Like Flavor Flav's clock, I'm back to handle my biz,
N*gga, it's Game Time, that was Dre's favorite line,
Back when proof was in the booth and I recited his lines,
And I still think about my n***a from time to time,
Make me wanna call 50, and let him know what's on my mind,
But I just hold back cuz we ain't beefin like that,
He aint Big, and I ain't Pac, and we just eatin off rap.
One love.
[8 Bars]
I'll do Marsha's bit if you want, but it seems kinda pointless.
I thought Nas was on point with his multis, the cotton line is a bit old though.
Who really the best rapper since 'Pac got killed
I done answered that question when I copped my deal
Ask yourself when the Game is comin, after next summer
I predict my shit'll drop before the next Howard homecoming
Now who in the runnin, no one, ask the niggaz who want it
I got a four-fifth and it just like me, it stay gunnin
Me and my niggaz stay blunted fogged up in the 600
Guilty as charged, blunts in the air, guns in the doors
It's written, Compton niggaz never run from the law
Plus we get Monopoly money with hotels and a board
So I'll never see a jail, and I'm allergic to bars
Can't sit behind 'em or drink at 'em, so we travel with ours
Poppin Crist' in the 6, like we drivin through Mardi Gras
Thinkin 'bout beads and titties as I roll through the city
And I keep 16 in the clip, and I let 'em all go
like the Lakers did Ellie, Atty and Nick, huh
Chorus
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent, cause
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent
No garbage we smoke molta, move big cocoa
We off the train tracks like the great space coaster
We hit real big and consistant like Sam Sosa
Prepare for war, like United States soldiers
Lock tight and rock right like grey eight oz's
I'll be hittin up spots, in them flip Range Rovers
Before you even try to play, foolish all over
Empty out yo' pockets, turn everything over
We ball out cursin yeah we keep it the sickest
When we roll by the quads in them Z-66's
Big spittin, grip kitten, that big face greed
Always dirty never clean but we live like kings
Legendary like Sting, it's a history to follow
But not known for stingin known for gettin off hollows
Shoot me a glass of Remy, nah fuck it the whole bottle
And watch me act bad and take off, full throttle
Chorus
I'm from a batch where it ain't no cut, we all in
36 on a triple beam scale for meal
Duffle bag on my shoulder my route, through the back of the jet
To bag up baguettes and everybody know it
I'm the iceholder makin the cut, never breakin 'em up
My favorite color is rainbowed up
Ain't a coke dealer, but I got bricks for cheap
Hit the lab for a fo' day block, we got heat
You niggaz can't compete when I walk in the streets
We Get Low, and there's no idea with the info
It's a rule of thumb, let them dudes a come
I'm cruisin some, 20 inch shoes and some
I'm in the widebody XM-5, all my snakes is live
We check your five, the spot where the tec dies
And everybody gotta holla the name
It's JT from the Fillmoe streets to CPT
[Verse 1]
Crip niggaz, Blood niggaz, Essay's, Asians,
Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, White Boyz, Jamaicans,
Latin Kingz, Disciples, Vicelords, Hatians,
All these mutha fuckas been patiently waiting,
Since the west coast fell off the steets been watchin,
The west coast neva fell off i was asleep in Compton,
Aftermath been here the beats been knockin,
Nate Dogg doin his thing DPG still poppin,
I got California love fuckin bitches to that Pac shit,
And westside connection been had it locked bitch,
I'm in the rear view my guns is cockin,
I'll put red dots on that nigga head like rodman,
All stars, phat laces, gun charge, court cases,
Faught that, not guilty im 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 ur CA back,
And i dont do button up shirts or drive Maybacks,
All u old record labels tryin to advance,
Aftermath bitch take it like a mutha fuckin man,
[chorus x2]
If you take a look in my eyes,
You see i'll be a gangsta 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 spinnin, chrome hydraulics
Run up on my low-low you stop breathin,
Hollow tips make niggas dissappear like houdini,
Gang bangin is real,
Homie im livin proof like Snoop Dogg C-Walkin on top of da devils roof,
Rap critics wanna converse, about this and that,
Cuz red strings in this converse and this a Dre track,
Keep jibberin jabberin i'll pull a .38 magnum,
And get the clickin and clackin,
You'll homies will wanna kno what happened,
Come to Compton and see thriller like Mike Jackson,
I might be Spike Lee, of this gun clappin,
Prior to rappin I was drug traffic, and
In the dope spot playin John Madden,
Homie I aint braggin, 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 im doin my thing,
Got me fuckin wit G-Unit you kno 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 gangsta 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 ur roof,
Leave your ass steched out like a Cadilac Coupe,
God gotta let me in heaven all the shit I been through,
I was an OG in the hood before i truned 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,
Im startin to feel the pressure,
I'm lyrically Kool G. Rap on these Dre Records
[chorus x2]
(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]
(We gangsta daddy!)
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
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
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
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
Yeah! What is it? It's Young Menace, and the Game
(Hahaha, yeah) Stackin chips, G-Unit (Chuck Taylor)
Doublin down on who? (Compton's young guns)
Sacramenton's finest (Who fuckin with me?)
From Sac-Town to Compton, you dig?
Yo, yo, now ain't no tellin what the Game'll do, listen dawg
I blow the guts out the dutch and do the same to you
And just to get shit crackin, I drop the toaster
Grab the Louis go Sammy Sosa
And you ain't gotta know me to know that, I hop out a new pink Rolls
With the fifty-two Pete Rose throwback
Haze in my eyes, listen to Bobby Womack
On the same corner where Eazy-E sold coke at
And dawg I'ma test your education
What do I mean when I say I move more birds than migration?
I'm the nigga that'll smoke the purple, get high as a kite
Down half the Goose then choke your workers
Don't make me put two in your shirt, dawg I put in the work
Then move bags like Doony & Bert
And stuff work in the GMC, cause on my block
I'm the King of Rock like Run-D.M.C., nigga
Chorus
I'm a mobster, with a mac-11 chopper
That'll pop ya and put one through ya motherfuckin collar
I'm a mobster, Robin Hood's like Kevin Costner
If ya fuck with my dollars I'll make you swallow my daughters
I'm a mobster, I keep a bitch by my waist
Just in case I gotta draw down to get this big face
I'm a mobster, uh-huh, yeh-yeah
I'm a mobster, uh-huh, yeh-yeah
Shhhhh.. I got a lot to say
Dawg I gotta get paid that's why I rock the lle'
And chop the lle' to push bricks through your block a day
I'll bring terror to your squad and make you rock away
Don't depend on tomorrow you can get shot today
I'll spit acid on your turf and watch your block decay
Dawg I spit on your grave and fertilize you too
I hit 'em hard with 16 bars, flames and fumes
Somebody needs to push your infant rap back in the womb
Go 'head and keep talkin that shit and get your life consumed
I put a hole in your chest dawg the size of the moon
Yeah you musta been talkin, how'd you get out that soon?
(You fuckin snitch!) I got a chop that'll touch yo' head like Vidal Sassoon
You don't wanna see my platoon, I got gorillas and baboons
That won't hesitate, they gon' do what they have to
When there's beef on the streets it's on for life like tattoos
Chorus
It don't matter what season, it don't matter not a day
I move traffic through the city, plus I keep the right of way
I'm on point like Bibby, I'm the leader of the team mayne
Got the whole city amped just like a Lakers versus Kings game
Everybody's fired up, I drop major packages
I'm never doin bids because my game is so immaculate
A bitch try to snitch, 'I Can't Deny It' like Fabolous
Before the evidence gatherin, someone's in an ambulance
Now that'll learn you to keep your big mouth shut
Those with big mouths I got the perfect size nuts
Yeah I do my dirt, but I wash my hands thoroughly
Handle my business first so I can celebrate early
It's business before pleasure my business brings me pleasure
It feels good to be able to shine, in any type of weather
That's why I do what I gotta do so my money's lookin tight
Whether I'm jukin on the block or have bitches hookin lights y'know?
Chorus
(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
Yeah...
Yeah man we them niggaz everybody talkin 'bout
Hey yo, yo
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
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 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
Who the illest hub dawg you know
Peelin slugs at your mug
dealin drugs in front of the projects
My projects, more scatter, more street
Makin room for more drama, more hustle, more heat
I can show you how to get, American money easy
It's the gangster, all motherfuckers envy
Leave all semi I tote, clips empty
Foes tempt me, I'm seein no penitentiary
Crime scene clean, shells, no prints
Flee the shootout, X-5, no {?}
It's meant for me to survive this gangster shit
Meant for you not to be livin', food for the pigeons
It's rules I'm givin, new lessons for the street
This jungle I'm from B don't breed no weak
Lames that don't know the game please don't speak
You get killed, want me peeled, I'm showin no {?} nigga
Every nigga out there claimin to be the illest
I don't know if y'all know let a nigga know I'm lost in the stipulations
Niggaz hatin', everybody waitin for the outcome
Whatever happened to just to rappin?
(Mic graspin, freestyle flow flashin)
(Rippin up tracks and, doin the thang)
(What'chu niggaz know about Sean T and the Game?)
(Who's the illest?)
[Sean T]
I'm off the rack like slabs of ribs, I want it big
I ain't fuckin with kids, I'm after six digit things
Fuck the rings and the tribulations, constant playa hatin
This crimin-al lifestyle, keeps me animatin
Let's turf talk before you niggaz thuggin it up
It don't matter if you Crip'n, or Blood'n it up
Dallas Squad blooded it up, smashin on sight
But he hoppin on haters like BMX bikes
Fuck around with the Squad see unbearable sights
We takin gangster shit to the maximum height
But I'm mainly into bubblin, fat grip doublin
Big heads I'm lovin 'em, you feelin me y'all
Leavin the envious in awe cause I tremendously ball
I'm supported by the Game so you know I won't fall
I'ma execute my options, keep wettin my paws
And come out unscathed with no scratches or flaws
Who's the illest
[Chorus]
[The Game]
They say "Game, you rappin like you from the East coast," meet toast
Gun jammed in your throat, forgot that you spoke
Game got the streets woke young'n, same nigga got the coke runnin
Introduce the new fiends to smack
Pops told me when I was younger, you can't live like that
So I don't listen to pops nigga I listen to Kool G. Rap
Went from hustlin sacks to heavy weight, shufflin crack
Kids and preachers know me, young Game the O.G.
Ask the reverand kept the church from fallin, young'uns from starvin
I'm the project like Marcy or the Nickerson Gardens
Comfortable dawg, Compton to Harlem, any city ghetto or hood
Kick back, blowin, listen to Marvin
Get head, count dough and just sit in the apartment
AK in the sofa, I'm the illest, who come closer
to the late ones or great ones fightin over a crown
Get shot off that throne, who the illest now, huh?
[Chorus]
[Sean T]
Some say the gangster mentality is dead, imagine that
When fools pullin straps out with infrared
We're livin in a time of plagues and corrupt life
When homies in the circle end up all trife
Tryin to shine bright, but lookin all dim
Meanwhile I stay sharp like a ballpoint pen
I see the smirks and grins but I just laugh
Cause I'm gettin lucrative loot, endless math
If you only knew the half of it, you wouldn't hate
But niggaz just pig and talk shit behind Jake
Man you cain't knock the hustle, I ain't fin' to be greedy
I want an exit out the game kinda like Paul Vitti
I'm tryin to slang CD's in cruise control
Instead of sellin illegal pharmaceuticals
Should I ask for your advice? Like you would know
Fuck it, I'm out to get it, I'm a fool for dough
[20 second instrumental to open]
[The Game]
Who really the best rapper since 'Pac got killed
I done answered that question when I copped my deal
Ask yourself when the Game is comin, after next summer
I predict my shit'll drop before the next Howard homecoming
Now who in the runnin, no one, ask the niggaz who want it
I got a four-fifth and it just like me, it stay gunnin
Me and my niggaz stay blunted fogged up in the 600
Guilty as charged, blunts in the air, guns in the doors
It's written, Compton niggaz never run from the law
Plus we get Monopoly money with hotels and a board
So I'll never see a jail, and I'm allergic to bars
Can't sit behind 'em or drink at 'em, so we travel with ours
Poppin Crist' in the 6, like we drivin through Mardi Gras
Thinkin 'bout beads and titties as I roll through the city
And I keep 16 in the clip, and I let 'em all go
like the Lakers did Ellie, Atty and Nick, huh
[Chorus]
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent, cause
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent
[Sean T]
No garbage we smoke molta, move big cocoa
We off the train tracks like the great space coaster
We hit real big and consistant like Sam Sosa
Prepare for war, like United States soldiers
Lock tight and rock right like grey eight oz's
I'll be hittin up spots, in them flip Range Rovers
Before you even try to play, foolish all over
Empty out yo' pockets, turn everything over
We ball out cursin yeah we keep it the sickest
When we roll by the quads in them Z-66's
Big spittin, grip kitten, that big face greed
Always dirty never clean but we live like kings
Legendary like Sting, it's a history to follow
But not known for stingin known for gettin off hollows
Shoot me a glass of Remy, nah fuck it the whole bottle
And watch me act bad and take off, full throttle
[Chorus]
[JT the Bigga Figga]
I'm from a batch where it ain't no cut, we all in
36 on a triple beam scale for meal
Duffle bag on my shoulder my route, through the back of the jet
To bag up baguettes and everybody know it
I'm the iceholder makin the cut, never breakin 'em up
My favorite color is rainbowed up
Ain't a coke dealer, but I got bricks for cheap
Hit the lab for a fo' day block, we got heat
You niggaz can't compete when I walk in the streets
We Get Low, and there's no idea with the info
It's a rule of thumb, let them dudes a come
I'm cruisin some, 20 inch shoes and some
I'm in the widebody XM-5, all my snakes is live
We check your five, the spot where the tec dies
And everybody gotta holla the name
It's JT from the Fillmoe streets to CPT
[Chorus]
Ol' English (la-lala-la-la-la-la)
Ridin' by gettin' high
Smokin' on that chronic drinkin' Ol' English
Rags tied gangs signs Letters on my hat in
Ol' English (la-lala-la-la-la-la)
Drive by homicide
R.I.P. tats in Ol' English Westside 'til I die
Niggas pourin' out that Ol' English (la-lala-la-la-la-la)
[Verse 1]
Once upon a time in the projects yo
I watched my uncle Greg put D's on his six-fo'
I washed it on Monday so he bought me a gold chain
Shopped crack and watched "Colors" and I soaked up game
Drove the Impala on his lap that was my role model
Used to let me kill the corner of his 40-ounce bottle
On the weekend him and my pops flashed the 'Vette
'Til one weekend my uncle got stabbed to death
He got murdered by a fiend my pops ain't like that
He was from Nutty Block they used to call him Maniac
Crazy ass nigga wit' a Black Panther tat
Kill a nigga cross him out on his Compton hat
Told me when I got older I would understand that
It's blood in blood out and ain't no turnin' back
Few summers went by and we moved across the tracks
13 that's when I had my first
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]
I was the first nigga wit' a Starter jacket on the block
Used to build model cars and let the muthafuckas hop
Moms banged Hoover Crip she was known for sellin' rocks
Let me collect the 40-ounce bottles in the dope spot
Bought my first Converse thought I couldn't be stopped
When I creased up my khakis and threw on my Ronnie Lott
Used to think that I was hard so I stole my brother's glock
And that's the day my life changed 'cause that night he got shot
Killed by another crip over his Rolex watch
I got high for three years off that Chronic from the Doc
I was drinkin' 40-ounces a lot
And every liquor store in Compton sold out the day Eazy dropped
I start bangin' red laces in my ??
Drinkin' out a brown paper bag on my first drive-by
I was a menace to society
But I never left fingerprints on my
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
I got a lot of dead homies some blood some crip
This is life stop watchin' that "Boyz N The Hood" shit
You see this red rag hangin' out of my jeans?
I went to twenty funerals by the age of ninteen
Then I went to college basketball was my dream
Quit the team 'cause I rather shoot rock wit' the fiends
Wanted to be Freeway Rick
He showed me how to trun a stolen 5.0 into a brick
Bought a Cadillac thought I was rich bangin' DJ Quik
On Crenshaw got jacked for my shit
Took a long chronic hit and thought about the time
When I was 12 years old and I emptied my first clip
Hit my first switch same night fucked my first bitch
Thought I was dreamin' 'til I pinched her tits
She caught a stray bullet ridin' shotgun in my shit
So I got her name tatted in
[Chorus]
Ol' English [x4]
[Verse 1: The Game]
June 30th, 11:07 I got that call
She 8 centimeters, my lil' man about to fall
Scuffing my Air Forces, running through the hospital hall
Deja vu, like I been here before
I'm feeling reborn, like a Bed-Stuy brethren, my first born
Dre, I'm about to have a bad boy, family in the lobby
See my nigga Church, 'What Up,' shit I left the camcorder in the truck
Running through the maternity ward, out of breath, sweating
I swear to God every minute's starting to feel like a second
I seen Hell staring down the barrel of a Smith & Wesson
My son's ultrasound the closest I ever been to Heaven
Lord forgive me for my sins, I know it's last minute
Put the chronic in the air, a little hash in it
Spread my wings, If only I could fly
Why fight to live homie?, If we only living to die
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
I hope you grow up to become that everything you can be
That's all I wanted for you young'n, like Father, like Son
But in the end I hope you only turn out better than me
I hope you know I love you young'n, like Father, like Son
My little man, your day is coming, coming, your day is coming, I tell you
And when it comes, just keep it running, running, just keep it running, I tell you
[Verse 2: The Game]
They say every time somebody die a child is born
So I thank the nigga who gave his life for the birth of my son
11:32, she screaming at the top of her lungs
I'm panicking, nurse yelling for the doctor to come
All I could remember was lamaze class, breathe baby
'One (one), two (two), three (three), four (four),' I see the head
Doc busting through the door, he between the legs
He see the head, it's my baby boy
11:46, the head out, she screaming, making crazy noise
Pain is love, my stomach folding like a La-Z-Boy
I'm feeling like Mariah Carey, all these butterfly's
Voices singing to me, sound like Teena Marie
I'm calling niggas on tour, 'Jayo tell ? I just cut the umbilical cord'
11:57, a soldier is born, and he's flesh of my flesh, young ? ?
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
I hope you grow up to become that everything you can be
That's all I wanted for you young'n, like Father, like Son
But in the end I hope you only turn out better than me
I hope you know I love you young'n, like Father, like Son
My little man, your day is coming, coming, your day is coming, I tell you
And when it comes, just keep it running, running, just keep it running, I tell you
[Verse 3: The Game]
I wanna thank Dr. ? and Nurse Theresa, for bringing my baby boy to life
You birthed a Caesar, And my baby Mama, Aliska
For pushing out a 10-pound, 4-ounce Mini-Me, I still can't believe it
Nose, ears, eyes, chin, just like your Daddy
I die before you grow up and be just like your Daddy, or your Grandfather
Call Uncle ?, tell him I got a son and I ain't even in Harlem
I'm popping Cris with your Godfathers, Baron Davis and 'D-Mack' Darius Rogers
Drop the top on the '71, with my face in the clouds, Lord spare my son
And watch over Aaron Wright, T'Yan and Lil' Pun
Lowriding, banging 'Ready to Die,' track number 1
If I bust 5 times and they never see the sun
My life is a black hole, like the barrel of a gun, one
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
I hope you grow up to become that everything you can be
That's all I wanted for you young'n, like Father, like Son
But in the end I hope you only turn out better than me
I hope you know I love you young'n, like Father, like Son
My little man, your day is coming, coming, your day is coming, I tell you
And when it comes, just keep it running, running, just keep it running, I tell you
I hope you grow up to become that everything you can be
That's all I wanted for you young'n, like Father, like Son
But in the end I hope you only turn out better than me
I hope you know I love you young'n, like Father, like Son
My little man, your day is coming, coming, your day is coming, I tell you
And when it comes, just keep it running, running, just keep it running, I tell you
I'm from Compton where them guns bust, watch Poppa George pop
Cats tellin jokes at them car games
Seen big face hundreds, handle the rock like Nate Archibald
What? This nigga only sixteen
And I wanted to be, just like him, middle school fightin
Any nigga with a chip on his shoulder, whattup nigga?
You want beef with me? Now I let the heat speak for me
No more talkin, just outline chalkin
Nigga Witta Attitude from birth, '100 Miles and Running'
Gunnin bustin shots like fuck the cops
Notorious for burnin blocks, weavin in and out of traffic and chop
Game the young Robin Hood of the block
Steal from the rich, give to the poor, coward niggaz rock
Second comin of this black Alfred Hitchcock
Kick in the door, wavin the four-four
Ten shots to your spleen, let them violins sing
Chorus
Yo, I'm just a ghetto nigga stuck in this game, young'uns runnin with 'caine
Rain hits so we floodin the game
When you come to Compton respect the grounds, leave you shook man
(And I look good, from Compton to Brooklyn)
Hey yo I don't give a fuck who you are, fuck ya ice
Fuck the block that you claim, fuck your Bentley Azure
(Dead presidents is all I represent)
('Til y'all met me y'all niggaz ain't met gangsta yet)
Fast cars, money and muscle, the hustle I was brought up in the 80's
Gangbangin, dope traffic, shit get crazy
From where niggaz grow up hard like dicks raised
Them hustlin guns like Knicks players, we got mouths to feed
'Til they put flowers on me, moms kiss my cold cheek
In that pine box, I'm buyin rocks, eyein cops
Fuck a cell block, the young kid makin it happen
Who you think got them fiends runnin back like Bo Jackson?
I'm a gangsta, what else could I say?
I'm ahead of myself like it's Y4K
2Pac, Scarface, N.W.A.
Taught me how to dodge them bullets, keep my wig in play
Keep fo' snug in the waist or pay a thousand to have 'em
Niggaz in the street move faster than, Michael Jackson's album
But the shit don't really matter to me, we get better G
Bet the four slow 'em down like PCP
Chorus
Real gangsters never talk shit, handle they business
Fuck the dry snitchin and bitchin, niggaz die when them bullets fly
Who fuckin with him, ha? Not a nigga alive
End up dead in that 5
He got no sympathy for them dead guys, friend or foe
Watch that chest cave in, what that vest savin?
Make it sloppy for the autopsy, leave my enemies in a frenzy
On the frontlines holdin a 9
Everyday a new chapter, my own niggaz plottin on me
Tryin to hit me but they won't get me, feel the semi first
Fuckin with my dough, is the worst way to go
Y'all know, niggaz cry when them bullets burn slow dummy
In and out of spots watchin my money
If one dollar come up missin bodies start to come up missin
No one too heavy for the Expedition, piss on your corpse
Watch your soul shiver, throw him in the river, bitch nigga
Chorus
[Chorus: sung by Tracey Nelson]
Walkin down the street, in my All Stars
In my, khaki suit, doin what +I+ do
Walkin down the street, smokin, chronic
In my black locs, lookin, +AT+ you
[The Game]
Guess who's back on the West coast tracks
It's the motherfuckin messiah of gangsta rap
Still dip in the six-fo', still puffin on the same chronic
Haters mad cause I still got it
I never fall off, even without the Doc
You niggaz sellin your soul tryin to stay on top
Bitch nigga check your Kotex, you niggaz ain't movin shit
like the hand on a fake-ass Rolex
I'm five million sold, the cover of my last album
the only time you see me sittin on gold
I'm the most anticipated, most celebrated
Most loved and the motherfuckin most hated
Keep rollin like gold Daytons
Niggaz got the game fucked up like Hennessy with a Coke chaser
You gotta deal with me, I'm the West coast saviour
Niggaz think of me everytime they six-fo' scraper
[Mac Minister]
What do you call a nigga who's overbearin
Belligerent, foul, defiant and very disrespectful
You call that nigga the Doctor's Advocate
He's a reflection of Dr. Dre in his heyday in the worst way
The five star surgeon general
Took Jayceon to the Aftermath research department
And gave him a blood test
It came back G-A-M-E positive
The nigga's infected with the Game virus
His oratorical skills are so impeccable
That niggaz in the streets call him Cyrus
The young don who is down with violence
cause in his heart he's a tyrant
It's not a game, it's just called The Game
There'll be no referees, no halftime reports
When the game is over, The Game is over
You can't put a quarter in the machine and get three mo' men
THAT'S, the end
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I done been to hell and back
Left for dead, you know who to thank for that
Finished my second LP without a Dr. Dre track
You can take my soul but can't take my plaques
I'm the motherfuckin snare when it touch the beat
I'm the 808 drum that got you movin your feet
I'm the heir to the throne after the D-R-E
Product of my environment, you old-ass niggaz
get ready for your early retirement
Before I let hip-hop burn down I run in the building like a fireman
Who can outspit me when I'm high off sticky
Throwin back Patron shots in some creased up dickies
I'm D.O.C. certified, Ice Cube +Lynch'd+ me
Snoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked me
You still with me? Me and my mic
can't be seperated like Interscope and - hahaha
Ohhh shit
This some good ass motherfuckin weed
California sticky green!
This is the aftermath for the Aftermath
West, coast!
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