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The Game

Business Never Personal (Feat. JT) – The Game

Lirik lagu: Business Never Personal (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?

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[Chorus]

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The Game

Dreams (Street Remix) (Feat. Kanye West, Notorious B.I.G.) – The Game

Lirik lagu: Dreams (Street Remix) (Feat. Kanye West, Notorious B.I.G.)

[Kanye West]
Yo whassup this is Kanye-to-the
Y’know good music is in the building
The Roc is in the building
I just called, called to shoutout my dawg Game
Chillin in the streets right now
That “Dreams” joint is crazy
We gotta get, get started on our next joint my nigga
Holla

[Notorious B.I.G.]
It was all a dream…
(Was it all a dream?) [2X]
(Was it all a dream?) Dream (dream) dream (dream) dream
(Was it all a dream?) ([Jay-Z:] “It was all a dream”) [3X]

[Notorious B.I.G.]
It was all a dream; I used to read Word Up magazine
Salt’n’Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine
Hangin pictures on my wall
Every Saturday, Rap Attack – Mr. Magic, Marley Marl
I let my tape rock ’til my tape popped
Smokin weed and bamboo, sippin on private stock
Way back, when I had the red and black lumberjack
With the hat to match
(Jay-Z: “It was all a dream”) Duh-ha, duh-ha
You never thought that hip-hop would take it this far
Now I’m in the {dream} cause I rhyme {dream}
Time to get paid, blow up like the World Trade
Born sinner, the opposite of a winner
Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner
Peace to Ron G, Brucey B, Kid Capri
Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starsky
I’m blowin up like you thought I would
Call the crib, same number same hood, it’s {dream}

[The Game]
Aaliyah had a {dream} Left Eye had a {dream}

[Notorious B.I.G.]
And if you don’t know, now you know
It was all a dream ([Jay-Z:] “It was all a dream”) [4X]
It was all a dream

READ  Heavy Artillery (Feat. Rick Ross & Beanie Sigel) - The Game
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The Game

Let’s Ride – The Game

[Verse 1]
Pull the rag off the six-fo’,
Hit the switch, show niggas how the shit go,
The Game is back, the Aftermath chain is gone,
The D’s is chrome, the frame is black.
(So watch it lift up)
Till the motherfucker bounce and break,
And knock both of the screws out the licence plate.
Let the games begin,
These other rap niggas so far behind me, go taste my rims,
Shit, let the chronic burn as the datens spin.
It ain’t been this much drama since I first heard Eminem,
In the club, poppin’ X pills like M & Ms,
Call it Dre day, we celebratin’, bitch bring a friend.
Bottles on me, tell the waiter to order another round,
And put that cheap-ass hypnotic down.
(Put your ‘cris up!)
If you feel the same way,
Who got ’em hittin’ switches NY to LA

[Hook]
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as you got bitches in the back,
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo’ bounce that ass,
(If I could fit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the west-coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash,
In a blunt, call it Aftermath

[Verse 2]
Somebody tell me where the drinks at,
Where the bitches at,
You fucking on the first night, meet me in the back.
I got a pound of chronic, and a gang of freaks,
Move bitch! Who the fuck you think they came to see?
The protégé of the D R E,
You take a picture with him, and you gotta fuck me,
And you gotta fuck Busta, can’t touch Eve,
Got something in my waist that you can’t touch either,
That’s – my gangsta bitch, and like Crips and Bloods,
I’m in the club on some gangsta shit.
(So nigga twist up)
Light another dub,
Bitches get scared when niggas start fighting in the club.
Ain’t nothing but a g-thing, baby it’s a g-thing,
Bounce like you got hydraulics in your g-string,
I fuck a different bitch seven days a week,
Hit the switch, watch it bounce like a Scott Storch beat.

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[Hook]
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as you got bitches in the back,
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo’ bounce that ass,
(If I could fit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the west-coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash,
In a blunt, call it Aftermath

[Verse 3]
Niggas thought I wasn’t coming back, look at me now
Hoppin’ out the same Cherry six-fo’ with the motherfucking top down,
I’m The Game, nigga
Call your bitch, she ain’t home, she with Game, nigga
Remember that, Dre
You passed me the torch, I lit the chronic with it, now the world is my ashtray,
Ridin’ three-wheel motion ’till the ass scrapes,
Turn sunset into a motherfucking drag-race.
Now watch it bounce,
Hit the switch, let it bounce till the police shut the shit down.
(When you hit the club)
Tell ’em you came with me,
(We gonna twist up)
In the V.I.P.
It’s a new day, and if you ever knew Dre,
Motherfucker, you would say I was the new Dre.
Same Impala, different spokes
Same chronic, just a different smoke.

[Hook]
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as you got bitches in the back,
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo’ bounce that ass,
(If I could fit the hole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the west-coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash,
In a blunt, call it Aftermath

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The Game

Ol’ English – The Game

[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 motherfuckers 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 Adidas
Drinkin’ out a brown paper bag on my first drive-by
I was a menace to society
But I never left fingerprints on my

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[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 nineteen
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]

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