Альбом The Game

(feat. JT)

[The Game]
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

[JT]
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]

[Verse Three - unknown]
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]

[scratched:] "Livin in Compton, California C-A"
Charlie O, drop that hot shit

[The Game]
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

[Verse Two]
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]

[The Game]
... 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]

(feat. JT)

[The Game]
Huh, niggaz think they got the game sewed, yeah right
I'm air tight, fresh in them Air Nikes
If the Navi outside, I might be there
Black hoodie, black 9, black wifey airs
Rock guns like Caddy trunks, keep a spare
You see the lump under the Iceberg fleece and gear
And when the beef cook, I'ma put the piece to your head
And if you see a white truck that mean yo' sheets is dead
Then I'm goin goin, back back
to the block to dump the bucket and jump in the drop
Niggaz know I'm good with the glock, they call me Chick Hearns
Cause if the game on knot, I'm callin the shots
I'll wear a shiny suit for a minute like I'm The LOX
Then get gangster with a swap meet bag and a Jordan box
And when I die, bury me with the glock, and a bucket of shells
In case niggaz want drama in hell

[JT]
Yeah, so when Compton niggaz and Fillmoe niggaz get together
Shit happens mayne; real talk from ya nigga Fig'
Doin it big and don't wanna split yo' wig

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
I'll give you anything you ask fo' - money over bitches
Tell me what'chu blast fo' - fuck around with snitches
What you had to smash fo' - niggaz tried to play me man
(1) Anything you ask fo' - all about this Bay game
(2) Anything you ask fo' - representin Bay game

[JT]
I be the boy with the most cabbage, pluck strings like I'm Lenny Kravitz
I'm in the streets where they goin savage
One, two, we dance on the rooftop
Let the Coupe ghostride then we come to two stops
Figga eight'n by the corner sto'
Niggarali from killer Cali you gotta let 'em know
Yeahh, ya hit me on my Sidekick
Inventory pilin up, niggaz tryin to buy shit
They got me diggin in my files
Pro Tools, ADAT tapes and big sounds
Jumpin on a plane, jumpin out a taxi cab
Stackin up this fettucini now these niggaz hella mad
"Fuck that nigga! He got another album on the board?"
Damn right, another album on the board
Fuck the bullshit, the Figgarali don't play
I represent the whole Bay every motherfuckin day

[Chorus]

[Verse Three]
Count rubber band grands
I'm out big on the under, with my fam bam
And I, hover the lands
To expand, I'm from the gutter grime and the sand
No jams the flam's all busted
The dames want the bucks when, they see you stuffed in
your pockets, 'til they get them some
But testin my pocket, only gets you none
Cause I, got a pimp mentality
The scrubs wanna eat shrimp, and get my salary
They ain't knowin I'm tight laced in my shoestrings
Hate the way I'm flowin on the mic, cause I do gleam
All types of baguettes and bezels
We shine like life's {?} rebels
2005, me and my crew just pile the pots
Move like the ice loose, pimp these thangs to watch

[Chorus]

(feat. Young Menace)

[Young Menace + (The Game)]
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?

[The Game]
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: Young Menace]
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

[Young Menace]
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]

[Verse Three]
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. JT)

[The Game]
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: repeat 2X]
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

[JT]
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]

(feat. JT)

[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

[The Game]
I'm too gangsta for the streets, watch me when I creep
I put five in your Jeep, leave a nigga sleep
Now you six feet deep over bullshit
Got a mac-10 mouth, ain't never pull shit
The ghetto don't make G's, it mold niggaz, get down or lay down
like Beanie Mac told niggaz or meet the fo'-fo' nigga
I let them guns blow, nigga I'm a rider
Thug Life 'til I die, Black Wall Street behind us
I'm a "Menace II Society," fuck Caine and O-Dog
I got the 'caine and the O's, dawg
I'm gangsta like Hennessy and Alize, Thug Passion
Ride or die 'til they kill me or put me in "Thugz Mansion"
Gangbangin, this California lifestyle got me heated
They want me buried, so I don't leave without the Desert Eagle
Shoot first, ask questions on my way to county jail
Kill a nigga over my chain cause I know I'ma make bail
I'm troublesome

[The Game]
"If I Die Tonite" - "Bury Me a G" amongst rap legends
Cause I spit bullets in rhymes, 16's and 9's
I keep a vest and a weapon, my baby momma got me stressin
Prayin on my knees every night askin God is there a heaven?
So here is my confession to my unborn child
Them five shots couldn't drop me, but I ain't take 'em and smile
I lost a lot of my niggaz to gangbangin and digits
One figure on the trigger dawg I live the life of a sinner
These motherfuckers wanna see me doin life in the pen
I'm a Outlaw, and the West coast is ridin again
My competition is none, I'm on a mission with guns
Starin death in the eyes, 20 niggaz deep when we ride
My enemies is bitches, they plottin on my riches
Can't walk in the streets without the paparazzi takin pictures
Label me a made nigga, all the way from Compton to Boston
These niggaz keep talkin I leave 'em dead in a coffin
I'm troublesome

[The Game]
Money over bitches is my motto in the streets I'm known for catchin hollows
Packin pistols and drinkin Belve and Grey Goose out the bottle
No role models, only killers and fiends
Witness my nigga strapped with gats and army fatigues
If it's murder he wrote it, if I'm lyin let the XXL quote it
And know that I'm strictly a rap poet
Baptized in my own tears, chastized by my own peers
I'm a product of my childhood years
My mother told me I'm HOPELESS, my pops wasn't around
One of the reasons why I'm clutchin the pound
California dreamin, chronic smoke out the beamer
One hand on the nina schemin got these hooptie bitches screamin
They know that I'm celebrity, keep them cop killers in the clip
And watch my back is what my niggaz keep tellin me
21 years old, no felonies, so I ride with the Desert
And pay homage to the hardest rap legend
I'm troublesome

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

[10 second instrumental to open]

[The Game]
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 [whispered] - 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]
[quiet scratching:] "Born and raised in Compton"

[The Game]
Nowww Compton is a place, where all my niggaz chill dog
'til I found out, the streets get real dog
'Bout a year ago, somebody musta wanted me to die
Cause they kicked in the door, and gave the young kid five
They musta thought that I was gon' play the bitch role
Cause I lived through fo' five six holes
But I ain't goin out like no faggot-ass clown
They found, they couldn't keep a gangsta nigga down
So here's the burner in your face motherfucker silly sucker
ass clucker now you're duckin cause you can't stop a Y.G.
Gangsta, cause I'm true to my game
You're lame, and thangs ain't gon' never be the same
Cause a nigga like the Game is takin over
I really don't think I should have to explain
Oh yeah I'm a dog but my name ain't Rover
And I'm the kinda nigga that's feelin no pain
Sometimes I have to wear a bulletproof vest
Because I got the C-P-T style written across my chest
A gangsta motherfucker never ceasin to impress
My name is young Game so you can fuck, the rest
I'm comin like this and I'm comin directly
Cause niggaz gettin all stirred up, I'm doin damage quite effectively
Rhymin is a battlezone and niggaz can't win
Cause I'm a gangsta from the C-O-M-P-T-O-N

Yeah...
Yeah man we them niggaz everybody talkin 'bout
Hey yo, yo

[Verse One]
Whether it's, chips or whips or bricks of 'caine
I still shine at the end when y'all forced to rain
Changed the game, three shots parade ya Range
Hit the passenger, driver, old man on a cane
I'm a shell in the chamber, waitin to pop
Like Stoudamire on the court I'm used to movin the rock
Cruise in the drop, 740, snub in the box
My attitude shifty, never callin the cops
A Green Bay jersey, out on Bennett puffin hershey
D's on the route tryin to catch a nigga dirty
Respect the flow, better yet respect the dough
He get respect like rich and po'
Fuck a 9 to 5, I'd rather wake up and spit bars
And your wife, known to make my dick hard
Cartier lenses, 22's on my Benz's
When shit break out, y'all hit the fences

[Chorus]
We stay bent, laid back behind tint, puffin sticks, spliff up
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
Big belt, flossy shades, paint on glaze, nigga
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
Unidentifiable straps makin heat clap sicker
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
We about reliable scratch and gettin this math quicker
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about

[Verse Two]
Shit I might as well be duels, cause they call me the Flowmaster
I keep ridin tracks like a natural disaster
You know I'm 'bout macra{?} I'll clap ya, a pirate like {?}
Far from a Hollywood actor
A factor, focused on paper and cars
I move like crowds, stay minglin with the stars
I'm in the 6500 Benz truck with some broads
Dimes in every state I strike through be on me so hard
You know them Bentley bound, {?} down, wild Hummer chicks
That wanna take the car, cover up your tight summer shit
The game's heavy, man that's way off the charts
Heavier than killer whales at animal theme parks
You niggaz is SweeTarts, my family is street sharks
We keep the ER busy tryin to revive the treat marks
Shit, we merk niggaz like Eddie, get ready
We got heat that set car alarms off like M-80's

[Chorus]

[The Game]
The Game on some regular rhymin, fuck all this new shit
When they gon' let real niggaz get on that cruise ship
Black Sox and Dallas Squad got, chains and cars
Get, brains from stars after those awards
Miyagi's or doubles, don't think I won't buy out the bar
That's little shit, Mercedes dealership, buy out the cars
Sticker in the window, let 'em know that it's ours
Sittin on shit you ain't never seen like we got it from Mars
Game like Laker Will, snatch a bitch off your arm
She see Game covered in ice like I lived through a snowstorm
Plus I blow digits like my first name was {?}
Pay off security at clubs, get our guns admitted
Outside the club in the parkin lot, four dot six
Not know it's stocked? Nigga it's the one we keep the bricks in
Hard black on black leather's what we keep the chicks in
And bitches stay sniffin like smellin dubs is a sixth sense

[Chorus]

[22 second instrumental to open]

[The Game]
Open your eyes, we in a new era
Less drama more unity, everything's lookin a lil' clearer
Like a face in the mirror karma
It was right before our eyes, facin the future I cried
No more Martin Luther shots, from off the words from Malcolm
Tunes from Jimi, it's sad but you gotta hear me
All praises due to the mighty Allah, God forgive me
I've been through it, but it's not all bad in me
A young kid tryin to change his ways
Every day a lil' closer, show him the light let him pave the way
Gotta see my grave someday, no more cheddar, some pictures
Grandma I'm comin to spend forever wit'cha, I miss ya
No more Sunday dinners, wish you could see your grandson now
Got bigger, all grown now
Got a daughter think she grown now, just started walkin
Just started talkin, she can potty on her own now
Life is good, memories are better
We all gotta go, I know it's cold grab a sweater
We can take that ride together, cry whatever, die whatever
Walk through the sky together, huh

Yeah, big spit, it's that Bay Area game, Sean T beats
We feedin the underground with this Yay Area tycoon shit
For my nigga JT Fig', y'all know where it come from
Never forget it, that Bay Area shit mayne
Y'knahmtalkinbout? Yeah!
Game, spit that shit

[The Game]
Hey yo the kid still at it, woke up from that coma
Seen hell came back and here comes my first classic
Still chop it up at the table, still put dope in the bag
and still got dope, under the mattress
It was hustle before rappin, nuttin before that and
12 years old, a lost soul, bumpin "Illmatic"
Gunshots tried and almost took the young kid's live
Can't do it I been through it the young kid survived
Got the ghetto on my shoulder homey, it's gon' be a long ride
Bear with me, I'ma take you there with me
Show you how the sun shine in one rhyme, no more stormy weather
Streets is mine, we gon' live forever
Get it together 'Pac is watchin, Big is listenin
Eazy is talkin to us, Big Pun is witnessin
While they souls still glistenin in ghettos from Compton to Brooklyn
the shells cry, every hood's anthem
Where everybody goes to church and prayers are never answered
And they throwin us curveballs but we Hank Aarons
A picture with no canvas, streets are so skanless
Young'uns jump rope, play ball with fiends and dope handlers
Teenage mothers, deadbeat fathers, no families
Lost and often runaway or live with grandparents
Life stories with no authors, see it through, {?} Robinson's cubicles
When time life is so beautiful
Walk with me we can make it if we try, lost soldiers sometimes
We gotta die but it's okay to cry
Mothers strugglin tryin to survive, reach out grab my hand
I got'cha, won't let you go for nuttin, I promise
Praises due to Elijah Muhammad, peace be unto Farad Muhammad
Words of Minister Farrakhan
Been true, be loyal, know your roots, water your soil
Stop fightin amongst ourself from birth we royal
Who's king we fightin over a crown, while lifeguards
watch the hopes and dreams of kids and young teens drown
More infants bein born with AIDS, more parents mournin graves
The plot thickens, somebody show us the way
Tears crackin the pavement, streets breakin up
The thrill is gone and it's a long walk home
So we might as well start runnin, if it's there gotta take it
'Member Jada said "We Gon' Make It"
And it shouldn't take 9/11 to bring our minds together
Shit rough we'll grind together
Light a candle we can shine forever or I can pass
So I won't miss Aaliyah's concert in heaven
Live life while we listen to my old heads
So I glow like the memory of Lisa 'Left Eye' Lopez
Through a six-seven Brougham, ride with me through the hood mayne
Where street lights flicker and Chuck Taylors hang
And nobody know they neighbor's name 'less they sell weed or cocaine
A lot of black clouds on a block but no rain
And Game got a lot to say, so they wanna take me down
in my own front yard like Marvin Gaye
Can't do it by myself, people need help
Keep on tryin to live healthy 'til the end of my days
And when I die won't lead my daughter astray, lookin from heaven
Watch my people drive my coffin through the Compton parade

[Verse Two]
I'm in the city where it's strange where killers follow direction
And trail witness protection to get a shot at they brain
Where the babies carry semis and swallow pills for power
Count paper for polly'n, penny-pinch for hours
Take sacks from cowards when the streets is watchin
Tuck guns in trunks cause real G's is boxin
Ain't no other options if you stand on your own two
And if you came to battle you can stand in the phone booth
Cause we don't wear capes in this part of the land
Cause every youngster from my block has been a part of the plan
I've been trainin since eighty-seven and famous since eighty-nine
Teaching came from the Nation, my spirit is from divine
When I, pass the word through these raps on beats
It's fo'sho' that the Lord gon' make the whole track speak
To the streets, when I pass these beats
It's fo'sho' that the Lord gon' make the whole track speak
To the streets, y'knahmtalkinbout people?
Make the track speak, "Truth Rap," get it right
"Truth Rap" mayne, for the people, get it right, "Truth Rap"

(feat. JT)

[Chorus]
Drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box
Nigga just drop ya thangs and just box

[Verse One: JT]
Yo, I hit the party in my t-shirt and tennis shoes
They all watchin in they Hot Boys and church suits
Actin tough in the club ain't gon' get you home
Gettin drunk off of Patron just gon' get you domed
Still steppin on my shoes, boy this nigga happy
This nigga thank he Lil' Jon and his partner Scrappy
Goin dumb with his bitch so he don't like me
This ain't the South boy, we ain't crunk we go hyphy
You gotta know the rules, player let it go
You get to trippin my nigga you gotta hit the do'
Rollin up this eight-nine gram I'm tryin to make a plan
Tuggin on yo' main bitch hand, tryin to make a friend
This time for escapade only make the tec a-spray
I'm in the parkin lot, standin by the Escalade
You got a problem we ain't fightin like a man
One-on-one with the Fig', get yo' face in the sand, nigga

[Chorus]

[Hook: JT]
Nigga you a bitch wit'cho gun, snitch wit'cho gun
Still get found in a ditch wit'cho gun
Bitch wit'cho gun, snitch wit'cho gun
Still get found in a ditch wit'cho gun

[Verse Two: JT]
Yo, Fig' never play with them guns, no you hear me
Fig' ain't shot nuttin up but kill spirits
Fig' ain't the one to be, scared of the losses
One-on-one fightin for stripes with right crosses
Uppercuts and heatbutts to get a head rush
Bitch niggaz rather kick back, and let they lead bust
I been a pitbull since Fila {?} and Kenny Ken
Used to chuck 'em by the corner sto' whoever win
Them was my O.G.'s, and I was just a B.G.
Whoever want to see me, Figgaro can {?}
But now we got them old niggaz that bust with they tommy
But caught without they tommy get rushed like salami
Cause everybody tired of them R.I.P.'s
We 'bout to bring this fightin back mayne to all our streets
Now, cowards wanna pack and, killers wanna cruise and
Real niggaz stand alone mayne and do what we do
I wanna bust you but homey let me ask you
Why you wanna play with that gun, and make me blast you
Moms all cryin and shit, she gotta ask you
{?} better to save on caskets you dumb nigga

[Chorus + Hook]

[Verse Three: JT]
Oh boy! Old friends like to make up and get cavi
Hell nah, she in the club wit'cho baby daddy
She got the coat on he bought you for yo' birthday (oh no!)
You kickin back, I'm 'bout to clown him in the worst way (bitch)
Team on preem' like he hangin out with 'Pac brother
And you a boss for not cuttin him with the boxcutter
And it was cool 'til this chick really got to trippin
Spittin drink in yo' face, boy she popped up pimpin (what?)
Zoked out like, fat boy you can't breathe
Bounce back and grab that trick by her fuckin weave
Bring her to the flo', teach her 'bout the Get Low
She gon' really know, mob her on the danceflo'

[Chorus + Hook]

[JT]
Yeah I gotta acknowledge them fo' carloads of HP niggaz
that came to Fillmoe for y'all one-on-ones mayne, and y'all got it mayne
Niggaz put the guns down and after that nigga it was real big
They get stripes for that, nigga, special shoutout nigga
to them three young Sunnydale niggaz
Nigga that was surrounded by ten Fillmoe niggaz mayne
And all y'all wanted was one-on-ones and y'all got it nigga
Stripes for that!

[Chorus + Hook]

(feat. JT)

[20 seconds of instrumental to open]

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

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

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

[Chorus]

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

[Chorus]