Альбом The Game

[Нет текста]

(feat. JT the Bigga Figga)

[The Game]
You can catch five, or catch me in the CL-5
Whatever way dog, the Game get live
Keepin it gangsta in a P.D. city velour
Late night I'm in Dublin's and I got myself a four
The hood love me, hoodrats gotta hug me
Pop ex, spark the buba, the shit get ugly
Rock the mic anywhere, and I ain't talkin 'bout a concert dog
Talkin 'bout ten niggaz in Converse dog
Get it crackin like we out in the yard, and the warden's watchin
Only difference is the whores is watchin
Still love to see a nigga, roll up on 20's
Hop in that six-four, roll up on Bentley's like
I'm a gangsta bay-bee, from the C-P-T
Run with the (Pound) like I'm from DPG
If it's beef, you C-Murder like it ain't No Limit
And I represent the P like Russell Simmons

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
I'm a neighborhood superstar, get it, right
Got it? Good, okay
It's the Black Sox and Get Low we get dough
In the Yay they pimp hoes, in Compton we six-fo'

[JT the Bigga Figga]
I know ya, love to watch me, 'specially when I'm lookin rocky
The trey with the broccoli with my handles on the Kawasaki
Handle my jewels with the cuff in my shoes
AD jacket on my elbow, 50 coast the jewels
In my neighborhood I'm Young Bill Gates, never shuffle the cake
So cover my face, and run up in the place
I'm a superstar, dick and my chain, glass bezel and bang
80 karats on my pinky and rang
Crews buzz when you speakin my name, cause I'm deep in the game
With top cool thangs and million dollar planes
I'm a maniac, young boy gone, like a young Roy Jones
You ought of my zone and ain't nobody home
In my neighborhood, produce stars, stakes is high
Now we soarin through the spacious skies
Drop yo' body with them cakes and ride, the handle is up
Switchin gears with the pedal and ride

[Chorus]

[The Game]
I'm a shining star
And I gotta hit the boulevard in that new Jaguar
Why he move through traffic like that, purple haze
Ralways, the Ojays, the gangsta lean so
Please believe that I keep two G's in my jeans
Two gats in my sleeve, two rats in my Beam'
X-5, mami let's ride
Weave in and out of traffic from Compton to Bed-Stuy
It's the kid from the far West I, oh, shit
He know how to do more than flip pies
Get money like them stick up guys
Them "Ocean 11" licks got the young kid rich for life
And I talkin 'bout a movie or George Clooney
I'm talkin 'bout, runnin in your spots with uzis tucked in the Coogi
Dude me? Naw truly, might lose your lives
They say I've, got 2K2 covered like A.I.

[Chorus]

[JT]
Yeah mayne, I told y'all mayne
Fillmoe California nigga where we launch the best nigga
JT the Bigga Figga, San Quinn, D-Moe the Yungsta, Seff the Gaffla
Introducin the Game
Nigga the first nigga I went and got outside of the Fillmoe district
Y'knahmtalkinbout? Yeah mayne
And we gon' pass him on off to Aftermath Records mayne
So they can take him to the T-O-P
Y'knahmtalkinbout Dr. Dre and the whole Aftermath staff, y'knahmtalkinbout?
But this album right here, this a Get Low, JT the Bigga Figga production
My nigga Charlie-O on the beat, y'knahmtalkinbout?
And we keepin it real thuggish mayne, Bay Area style nigga
Black Wall Street, now let's get MONEY!

(feat. JT the Bigga Figga, Sean T)

[20 second instrumental to open]

[The Game]
Who really the best rapper since 'Pac got killed
I done answered that question when I copped my deal
Ask yourself when the Game is comin, after next summer
I predict my shit'll drop before the next Howard homecoming
Now who in the runnin, no one, ask the niggaz who want it
I got a four-fifth and it just like me, it stay gunnin
Me and my niggaz stay blunted fogged up in the 600
Guilty as charged, blunts in the air, guns in the doors
It's written, Compton niggaz never run from the law
Plus we get Monopoly money with hotels and a board
So I'll never see a jail, and I'm allergic to bars
Can't sit behind 'em or drink at 'em, so we travel with ours
Poppin Crist' in the 6, like we drivin through Mardi Gras
Thinkin 'bout beads and titties as I roll through the city
And I keep 16 in the clip, and I let 'em all go
like the Lakers did Ellie, Atty and Nick, huh

[Chorus]
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent, cause
When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent

[Sean T]
No garbage we smoke molta, move big cocoa
We off the train tracks like the great space coaster
We hit real big and consistant like Sam Sosa
Prepare for war, like United States soldiers
Lock tight and rock right like grey eight oz's
I'll be hittin up spots, in them flip Range Rovers
Before you even try to play, foolish all over
Empty out yo' pockets, turn everything over
We ball out cursin yeah we keep it the sickest
When we roll by the quads in them Z-66's
Big spittin, grip kitten, that big face greed
Always dirty never clean but we live like kings
Legendary like Sting, it's a history to follow
But not known for stingin known for gettin off hollows
Shoot me a glass of Remy, nah fuck it the whole bottle
And watch me act bad and take off, full throttle

[Chorus]

[JT the Bigga Figga]
I'm from a batch where it ain't no cut, we all in
36 on a triple beam scale for meal
Duffle bag on my shoulder my route, through the back of the jet
To bag up baguettes and everybody know it
I'm the iceholder makin the cut, never breakin 'em up
My favorite color is rainbowed up
Ain't a coke dealer, but I got bricks for cheap
Hit the lab for a fo' day block, we got heat
You niggaz can't compete when I walk in the streets
We Get Low, and there's no idea with the info
It's a rule of thumb, let them dudes a come
I'm cruisin some, 20 inch shoes and some
I'm in the widebody XM-5, all my snakes is live
We check your five, the spot where the tec dies
And everybody gotta holla the name
It's JT from the Fillmoe streets to CPT

(feat. Blue Chip)

[The Game]
I'm from Compton where them guns bust, watch Poppa George pop
Cats tellin jokes at them car games
Seen big face hundreds, handle the rock like Nate Archibald
What? This nigga only sixteen
And I wanted to be, just like him, middle school fightin
Any nigga with a chip on his shoulder, whattup nigga?
You want beef with me? Now I let the heat speak for me
No more talkin, just outline chalkin
Nigga Witta Attitude from birth, "100 Miles and Running"
Gunnin bustin shots like fuck the cops
Notorious for burnin blocks, weavin in and out of traffic and chop
Game the young Robin Hood of the block
Steal from the rich, give to the poor, coward niggaz rock
Second comin of this black Alfred Hitchcock
Kick in the door, wavin the four-four
Ten shots to your spleen, let them violins sing

[Chorus: Blue Chip + (The Game)]
Yo, I'm just a ghetto nigga stuck in this game, young'uns runnin with 'caine
Rain hits so we floodin the game
When you come to Compton respect the grounds, leave you shook man
(And I look good, from Compton to Brooklyn)
Hey yo I don't give a fuck who you are, fuck ya ice
Fuck the block that you claim, fuck your Bentley Azure
(Dead presidents is all I represent)
('Til y'all met me y'all niggaz ain't met gangsta yet)

[The Game]
Fast cars, money and muscle, the hustle I was brought up in the 80's
Gangbangin, dope traffic, shit get crazy
From where niggaz grow up hard like dicks raised
Them hustlin guns like Knicks players, we got mouths to feed
'Til they put flowers on me, moms kiss my cold cheek
In that pine box, I'm buyin rocks, eyein cops
Fuck a cell block, the young kid makin it happen
Who you think got them fiends runnin back like Bo Jackson?
I'm a gangsta, what else could I say?
I'm ahead of myself like it's Y4K
2Pac, Scarface, N.W.A.
Taught me how to dodge them bullets, keep my wig in play
Keep fo' snug in the waist or pay a thousand to have 'em
Niggaz in the street move faster than, Michael Jackson's album
But the shit don't really matter to me, we get better G
Bet the four slow 'em down like PCP

[Chorus]

[The Game]
Real gangsters never talk shit, handle they business
Fuck the dry snitchin and bitchin, niggaz die when them bullets fly
Who fuckin with him, ha? Not a nigga alive
End up dead in that 5
He got no sympathy for them dead guys, friend or foe
Watch that chest cave in, what that vest savin?
Make it sloppy for the autopsy, leave my enemies in a frenzy
On the frontlines holdin a 9
Everyday a new chapter, my own niggaz plottin on me
Tryin to hit me but they won't get me, feel the semi first
Fuckin with my dough, is the worst way to go
Y'all know, niggaz cry when them bullets burn slow dummy
In and out of spots watchin my money
If one dollar come up missin bodies start to come up missin
No one too heavy for the Expedition, piss on your corpse
Watch your soul shiver, throw him in the river, bitch nigga

[Chorus]

[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]

(feat. San Quinn)

[20 second instrumental to open]

[San Quinn]
Drama is real, like not wakin up
I'm breakin up grounds when this patriot thrust
Your mouth is on shut, your emotions are hidden
For you to handle your business, you are more than driven
If you kill it no more standin on that corner like a stop sign
Everytime you spotted they call it shot time
Not at the gym but in the grim reaper's hands
You important if a bullet hits, injure your plans
This is not an adventure, but a full-time duty
If you seen how niggaz hit the club, they pullin out uzis
Sometimes bruisin and grazin, mostly takin
No more sleep for the shooter, no more of that hangin
No mo' trustin hoes you ain't know fo' ten plus
No mo' smokin with the homies, no mo' late night clubs
Cause the victim, is ready to stick him like a mousetrap
I'm 'bout to rap, you better be 'bout peepin out cash

[Chorus: The Game]
If there's blood on my Nikes I done murdered a nigga
If the stash spot smokin I done murdered a nigga
San Quinn got a hurt for the nigga, it get worser for niggaz
We take this beef shit further than niggaz
Streets are shady, the Game got curtains for niggaz
All-of-a-sudden-ass killers never heard of these niggaz
Have your whole family cryin a river, we'll murder you niggaz
We take this beef shit personal nigga

[The Game]
I ain't met a nigga yet could fuck with this rap vet
I'm the realest since I came in the game on Kam back
Rest in peace to Mausberg, gotta live with that
Keep the M2 on my hip, I live with that
Eat with that, sleep with that, come get me
Four-fifty put somethin through your son Easter basket
Six in your truck, get you each a casket
Put termites in your box let 'em eat your cabbage
A wife right here, see if she can weave through traffic
Everybody gotta die, when the beef is active
If you know Game, you know I'll never give free passes
But I give choices, how you want it, metal or plastic
Life is real, pedal to traffic, no spots on my tail
Cops on the payroll so me and Quinn live well
And I can still get a nigga the hill, your bitch as well
Shotgun got mo' punks than shells

[Chorus]

[The Game]
See the Escalade got 'em runnin downhill, snowball niggaz
We throw vapors out of truck windows, blow our figures
Suede corners out the sunroof, the fifth or the Ruger
Broad daylight, blow the windows out of your Cougar
Move in the S5, plus my, leather dust fly
Spark up a dutch, Game put niggaz in a coffin too much
Turn niggaz kids into orphans too much, In God We Trust - nah
Keep the fifth close like Starsky & Hutch
Your daughter cryin it's just {?} tuck, but so what
Blow the dutch, southpaw bust out your whole fronts
Have you eatin soup for months, broken jaw, lick your shit out of straws
I guess I got that same ol' harm
I ain't for play, the Game is raw
Specialize in death jackets, here try these bullets on
And next time have all my cheese cause if you owe me
Guns O-U-T, we all gon' squeeze

[Chorus]

(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 motherf**ker 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 f**k 'em dogstyle with Billys and Novas
With or without chaffeurs, I make 'em f**k 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

(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 f**k up, my niggaz act the f**k up
So keep yourself in line or you could get smacked the f**k up
Jacked the f**k up, beat up bad and clapped the f**k 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 f**k 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

(feat. Young Noble (Outlawz))

[19 second instrumental to open]

[The Game]
Live now, die later, flood or clock the shit out of haters
Got niggaz tryin to "Kiss the Game Goodbye" like Jada
Get your shit pushed back like Jada's CD
I'll put your brains on that Kenwood TV
So you can see hell in 3D, it's right there dog
And the Game behind the Desert is a nightmare dog
If it's pussy, I might share it dog, beef I'm right here dog
I'm on the block, white Nike Airs on
Gucci check, Coogi sweat, they wanna know
if 22's on the truck, give me coochie yet
But I come through in the new GS with two, three tecs
Got niggaz Harlem Shakin like the new G. Dep
Tryin to read my whole script, but ain't seen the movie yet
Better have that glock stuffed tonight
I'm comin through with Young Noble, and we, gon', make, it
A block bust tonight

[Chorus 2X: The Game]
Getting American Money Easy, all I know
The Gangsta All Motherfuckers Envy, all my dough
It's a West coast knot, watch, let it bang out
Shots range out, for all the gangsta hangouts

[The Game]
Lace your tips, polish your gators, we like odds in Vegas
You can't ball? Then it's probably the haters
Can't breathe then it's probably the Desert, if you a gangsta or not
I give a fuck dog, bullets is hot
And every nigga gon' cry when he hit, the more pain
the more blood drain, he ain't survivin shit
And your niggaz ain't gon' ride for shit, they know
if they came through everybody in the X-5 is hit
Red rag or blue rag, niggaz die for this
The Game the reason all these niggaz on that "Cali Love" shit
Compton niggaz get grimy too, pull you out of that 6
Fuck you up like one time'll do
And I dare y'all to stop on the 'Shaw, and King Boulevard
Comin hard, Doogie Howser pullin bullets out your jaw
Turn your round trip into a one-way ticket
You can visit, but you can not lie and kick it

[Chorus]

[Young Noble]
Aiyyo, we left a stain on your block, you came with a cop
Pointin fingers at them niggaz, that kept shit hot
Next to 'Pac, I'm the hottest thang out, homey we can bang out
Outlaw air it out, box 'em in, square it out
Learn about your whereabouts and we right there
Me and Game have you left right there
N-O-B-L-E, O-U-T-L-A-W-Z
We bubble with ease, and I double my cheese
I got niggaz out in Compton that'll find yo' ass
I got niggaz out in Jersey, that'll hide yo' ass
for a long time if you ever fuckin with mine
It's a thin line dog between the real and the fraud
We killin your squad, my homeboy still in the yard
You the type of motherfucker standin next to the God
The Game is deep, you motherfuckers ain't the streets
Young Noble and the homey Game flamin heat, c'mon

[Chorus]

[The Game]
Yeh this is killa Cali, live as a motherfucker man
Niggaz hoppin of off LAX's
Can't wait to see the sunshine, the palm trees, the beautiful woman
I love it man, nineteen years and runnin', this is my home, feel me

[The Game]
Y'all must think it's all chips and championships in LA
I got niggaz from San Diego all the way to the Bay
E-40, Dre, Tash, Ras Kass
Quik, Cube, Kurupt, and Daz
Big Snoop, Xzibit, Nate Dogg, and Ren
Too $hort, B-Legit, The Click, and Mack 10
Big Solo, Kam, CJ Mack, and WC
Jayo Felony, Suge Knight, The Outlawz, and Warren G
Knoc'Turnal, Bad Azz, Goldie Loc, and Tray Dee
Short Khop, Big Face, MC Eiht, and Shock G
Ant Banks, Richie Rich, Eastwood, and Suga Free
Bigga Figga, B-Real, Cypress Hill, and Ice-T
Rick Rock, C-Bo, Battlecat, and Crooked I
Yukmouth, Sean T, Kokane, and Big Wy
San Quan, Second II None, and Soopafly
King T, Rappin 4-Tay, and All From The I
Dru Down, E-Swift, Baco, and Technique
Mac Mall, Dazi Bitch, Shaq and D.O.C.
Chico and Coolwadda, Tyrese and KD
Mailman, RBX, Shade Sheist, and Wy V
C & W, Chill, Hittman, and Hi-C
DJ Yella, I Flow, The Ganders, and Double D
Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E., The Farock, AMG
Ra Ra, H.O.P. and Butch Cassidy
All my fallen soldiers rest in peace
Along wit 2Pac, Mausberg and Eazy-E
Essays, Bloods, Crips and all the thugs
And all my killa cali niggaz stay given it up uh

Yeah if I left you out man holla at me, my bad it's all love

Who the illest 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 motherf**kers 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 f**kin with kids, I'm after six digit things
F**k 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
F**k 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
F**k it, I'm out to get it, I'm a fool for dough

[The Game talking]
The young Roy Jones of this rap shit
Somebody bout to get knocked the fucked out tonight man
You better tell your boy somethin, you better tell him somethin

[Verse 1: The Game]
Skip through the blueprint one bang this what's mentioned
Bleek you're one hit away but he didn't know The Game was pitchin
Balls faster than roger Clemens nigga you're too big for your bitches
Two gold albums and I'll make you a hitter
Might make you a little richer but don't forget the big picture
All of those make you a fag but money like Little Richard
Take your faggot ass picture put it next to Gulliany
Run you for your roc-a-wear fit and beat you with the Tommy
Drag your ass down to Alby Square
Call Beans, Jay, Freeway, Biggs, Dame I'll be there
Compton behind me ask Nas queens is with me
You ain't never sold crack in your life I'm takin your fiends with me
My guns smoke like Robert Downey
Two shots and a pound he got a room in Kings County
And you might live or sit in a box
Depending on how long it NYPD to respond to the shot

[Chorus: The Game]
Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek
Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek

[Verse 2: The Game]
See what the problem is too much east coast dick lickin
And everybody tryin to do their best 2pac rendition
Listen they wonder how I live with 5 shots
Niggaz is hard to kill on my block
When you was in the streets comin of age
I was in the streets pumpin the gauge
While you was rappin I was makin it happen
On the block with a k
While you was with the roc on the stage
I had rocks on the stage
On headliner for the front page we know that you front
You be on sunset doin what? Gettin your punk ass stunt
You gon respect us or that fo' rippin through the vests
And you know who you are deaf nigga'll get the message
Malik or M-E-M-P-H Bleek
Fuck around and be a B-I-T-C-H sleek
Cuz all that yappin dude will get guns clappin dude
And stop Memphis from rappin dude, huh

[Chorus: The Game]
Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek
Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek

[Verse 3: The Game]
It took me a little while but I am now understandin
Jay fucked up in the first round when he picked olo with candy
Did olo in the second, nigga take it from me
The Roc get knocked off the bounce till you picked up beans
Add freeway to the team but move the ugly bitch
Trade the Marcy reject for Cam'ron and Lil' Chris
Now the squad 5 is live 6 man is Neef
Fans in the stand yellin out fuck Memphis Bleek
You want beef I have your body parts all over New York
Leg in jersey arm in Brooklyn head buried in central park
You can't even borrow from New York no more like john Storch
And I ain't talkin to him I'm talkin to Malik
And I got a pine box for a nigga like you
Streets is talkin how many real niggaz like you
Hit LAX remember when you come to the coast
Niggaz don't play with they lives when it comes to the toast

[Chorus: The Game]
Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek
Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek...Memph Bleek

(Verse one)
f**k 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 motherf**kers
beef with the kid click-clack motherf**kers
let them bullets burn your six pack motherf**kers
get jacked motherf**ker when you come to compton
get a mack motherf**ker 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 'cause 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 motherf**kin 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 f**kers 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
f**k with the red beam
get a n**** hit on that
f**k 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)

(feat. Blue Chip)

[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]

[Нет текста]

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]

[Нет текста]