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The Game

My Flag/Da Homies – The Game

Part I: My Flag

[Produced By DJ Mustard]

[Hook: Game]
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with?

[Verse 1: Game]
I Know your baby never hurt nobody
But he got his ass smoked at that Mustard party
OG Blood, everybody know me when I came in with the little homies, Skeme!

[Verse 2: Skeme]
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
That nigga duke just moved an ounce of yayo
And you know I keep gunners on the payroll
I even fucked with Mitchy Slick down in Daygo
Young General these niggas gotta spray for
You fuck around and catch 20 out this Range Ro’
Mane that beef shit is what a nigga made for
I open fire on her open mouth, case closed
Came in this bitch with Chuck Taylor’s screaming fuck haters
Bad bitch I’ma fuck later, tryna touch paper
In a 6 tray rag going brazy up the ave
What I’m drinking got me thinking, nigga maybe I should iron out my –

[Hook: Game]
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with?

[Verse 3: Jay 305]
It’s anybody killa, that’s for anybody nigga
Mainline, waistside, westside nigga
Fuck peace, this for Crenshaw kings
Sockin’ out niggas, tall as Yao Ming
Lowkey is on drop, give a fuck bout whatcho mama
When it’s on, it’s on, pop it like a bottle of patron
Then lay back with a bitch, man this is westside Jay 3-0 fifth
No gimmicks, God damn

[Verse 4: Mitchy Slick]
I won’t stop being a blood to gangland
To my dope then kicked in locked up in a strange land
So when they be like, “Slick, why we ain’t see you on TV or nothin’?”
Shit, I’m still tryin’ get off the gang injunction
Cause when it come to this been, I’m a monster to your leaf
You can do a whole damu documentary on just me
Call it “The Life of a Hundred Percent Real Whooper”
They did it for the grams, moves and the hush
Yeah Dat

READ  I'm Chillin' - The Game

[Hook: Game]
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with?

[Verse 5: Joe Moses]
I put the woop in the woop like my DLB’s
All I know is VNG’s and FTB’s
I ran fades back to back, that’s on STB
And if you claimin’ you a blood, shit, you better know me
Big homie gave me a gun and said “It better be empty”
I was eleven years old with a motha’fuckin’ fifty
I got love for certain niggas, I’ve been doing this since knee high
And you ain’t a real blood if you didn’t bang at the beehive

[Verse 6: RJ]
Westside AM, back in a straight jacket
Mister LA back, free my A track
Middle of July, I’m just tryin’ bring a Maybach
Whole city riding, I ain’t even did a Dre track
Nigga this Athens, Miller gang mad
So east coast niggas be like “Cuh, you crackin’.”
Niggas ain’t goin’ hard, as you should stop rappin’
I’ma be the street rider till the casket

[Hook: Game]
Maybe I should iron out my flag
Maybe I should put another crease in it
Maybe I should iron out my flag
If you gang banging who you beefing with?

Part II: Da Homies

[Intro : The Game & RJ]
The Game – RJ, what’s that shit we was doing the other day blood to that uh, to that Mustard beat when the homie was beating on his chest and shit?
RJ – Oh you talkin’ bout that uh, that uh
The homies in the cut that’s on E, niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street (Mumbling)
The Game – Ay the blood, ay take blood drink. Give me that mutha’fuckin’ weed blood. Ay duke, do that shit blood

[Hook : RJ]
The homies in the cut that’s on E, niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said, the homies in the cut that’s on E, down for whatever cuz the homies roll deep
Finger on the trigger, bandana round the Mac
Ride through the hood with a cup full of ‘gnac

READ  This Is How We Do (Fresh '83) (Feat. 50 Cent) - The Game

[Interlude]
Ay nigga, lemme hit the weed
Where the fuck you get this bud from homie?
Ay, we about to run outta gas my nigga

[Hook : RJ & Ty Dolla $ign]
The homies in the cut that’s on E, niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said, the homies in the cut that’s on E, down for whatever cuz the homies roll deep
Finger on the trigger, bandana round the Mac
Ride through the hood with a cup full of ‘gnac

[Verse 1 : AD]
Im a real Compton Crip I hope you niggas get the message
Leave them 16’s open, i’ll make them look bad on records
Chuck told me “I’m Good”, now I’m headed down to the Cedars
After that, straight to the hood where them tanas holding them heaters
Look, sagging down the A-Line, war fuck it no play time
Hit my first tour I was still chuckin’ up gang signs
Homies still cooking them cops hop out with K9
Lot of rappers’s callin’ out names, nigga don’t say mine
The homies in the cut that’s on E
Some niggas bang the C some niggas bangin’ the P
I’m really in the streets you other niggas is weak
On my mama and the hood, fuck around and Ya rest in peace
Especially when the homies in the cut that’s on E

[Hook : RJ & Ty Dolla $ign]
The homies in the cut that’s on E, niggas turnt up and we bout to hit the street
The homie on probation, make him sit up in the back
Bout to hit the weed spot and get another sack
I said, the homies in the cut that’s on E, down for whatever cuz the homies roll deep
Finger on the trigger, bandana round the Mac
Ride through the hood with a cup full of ‘gnac

READ  Dead - The Game

[Outro Skit]
AD : Say nigga, that little nigga’s right there cuz
Person 2 : Where nigga?
AD : Right across the street loc. Man I told these niggas the last time they keep pullin’ em over here there gonna be problems cuz
Ay cuz, turn that fuckin’ music down nigga
Tired of these niggas comin’ over here and shit nigga
Turn the lights on, man turn the lights on!
Man pull up nigga, I said pull up cuh!
Person 2: Hold on, hold on, they look like One Time
(Sirens blare)
Oh fuck cuh
(Police in background): This is the Compton Police
AD : Man I knew I shouldn’t have rolled witchu niggas, I’m about to get life cuz
Person 1: Life? Cuz they bout to put me on the row nigga
(Pol. in back) Put your (?)
Person 2: Aight!
(Pol. in back) Shut it off asshole!
AD : It’s off cuh
Game: Hey look at blood an them get jacked by the ones
Person 4: Ha ha ha nigga don’t drop that soap nigga
Game: Bitch ass niggas in ya own hood nigga
(laughing)
Game: Nigga hit the switch nigga (Car hydraulics activate) Get back to 05′ on these niggas blood
Person 4: Woo
(Driving away)
Person 2: I ain’t goin’
AD : Shh
Person 2: Fuck that nigga cuz I swear to god I ain’t goin’
AD : The fuck you mean you ain’t going?
Person 2: I ain’t going back to the pen cuz I can’t
AD : Nigga what the fuck we gon’ do then?
Person 2: I don’t know about you niggas but I’m going out
AD : Fuck it then cuh, on Compton Crip! Kick the door open!
(Sounds of slamming and gunshots)
AD : Fuck the police!!

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The Game

Death Penalty (Feat. Fabolous, Eric Bellinger & Slim Thug) – The Game

Lirik lagu: Death Penalty (Feat. Fabolous, Eric Bellinger & Slim Thug)

[Chorus]
For not being who you claim
You get found guilty
2 counts of bein lame
You get found guilty
The Charge of fuckin up the game
You get found guilty
Real niggas sentence you
Dead Penalty

[Fabolous]
Uhhh
Lets get back to this real shit
We ride no pump breaks
Errbody takin like they the shooters
Mann I ain’t goin for them pump fakes
These niggas is crump cakes
Wish they would say some snake
Get banged on like the treble makes
The dumb mistake tryin to jumpin with blake
These niggas in my lane
Lob city in these streets
Jesus piece on my chain
need God with me in these streets
I went through hell to get to where heaven is
Lucy in that red dress lookin devilish
Scale a 1 to 10 she lookin elevenish
If she ain’t ridin shotty AK 47 is
Shorty came to me when she left her man
I looked at her and said you sumthin else
But the best way to get over sumbody
Is gettin under sumone else
On that note I’m in that 1,2,3 pin that
Baby tellin me I’m the best I b yellin I been that
In the club half a pill and a full clip
Get a deal on a Rose no bullshit

[Game]
There goes ghost
I’m in that mothafucka like pacman
Niggas talkin about robin I ain’t goin for that batman
King of diamonds like super Sunday
100 thou for that lap dance
See straight thorugh you pussy niggas
I call that a cat scan
And on that note we in here
Pink coroc pronto
My gun throw bullets like payton manning
My chic walk around wit that bronco
Extend the clip in that conso
2 mill for that condo
We gon shot for that green
I ain’t talkin no rondo
Nigga tryin to say that I ain’t a G
I point it at him said you sumthin else
See these basketballs wife all around my table?
We bout to swim through em like Mike phelps
now pop open that tin pac
Your life savings I spend that
Niggas fan of my instagram
Beggin me for their bitch back
Sendin treats to my B M
Tryin to hack my email
Niggas wisperin to themselves
All huddled up like females
Your bitch about to be detailed
I ain’t sparin no details
She choked up like Sprewell
I drop her off in the v12 (niceeee)
Ridin around wit that Houston rocket
Keep all that of that Jeremy lin shit in yo pocket

READ  Spanglish - The Game

[Chorus 2x]

[Slim Thug]
I’m goin back to cali
I’m goin back to cali
I’m out of drank and dro so I’m goin back to cali
I need pints by the cases for this bag of big faces
Couple pounds of that kush I ain’t the only one getting wasted
Smoke a lil, sell the rest Ima hustla baby
gotta Invest get mine plus interest
you niggas still ain’t winiing yet
I just sold my 4th bentley
Then I got that photo porche
Bout to switch it up for the summa
Thinkin bout that electric hummer
Strapped up got extra armor
in case a hatin nigga wanna play
everythang I rep a 100
you could check my resume
they don’t make em like me no more
They don’t make a miss t no more
I don’t see too many G’s
I jus see a bunch of CP 4’s
Lets get back to that real shit
That Pac BIG that UGk kinda trill shit
East West and the South
If you see a fake nigga point em out (point em out)

[Chorus]

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The Game

Drop Ya Thangs (Feat. JT) – The Game

Lirik lagu: Drop Ya Thangs (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

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[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]

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The Game

Church for Thugs – The Game

[Verse 1]
To all my niggas on the porch getting their hair braided
Corn rolled by a L.A. bitch
And I can’t forget
My niggas riding the train Yankee fitted
Thermals under that Pelle shit
I love New York but gangbanging that’s L.A. shit
And I’m proud of it
Spit it through the wire so the crowd love it
Haters you know who you are you can turn it down fuck it
I can shoot a video to it and spend half the budget
I’m gangsta, let the .40 cal blow in public
More hatred inside my soul than Pac had for Delores Tucker
Every time one of my niggas get shot the more I suffer
Cause we trapped inside a world where your forced to die for your colors
I seen it all through the Range tints
Got niggas doing life in the state pen
So I dread like Jamaicans
If I die for one of my statements
Than break up the streets of Compton and spill my blood in the pavement

[Hook]
Believe me niggas keep sayin they gon heat me up
Talking that shit like they goin lay me down
And then I come through strapped to see what’s up
Niggas really don’t want no parts of me pal

Niggas keep sayin they gon heat me up
Talking that shit like they goin lay me down
And then I come through strapped to see what’s up
Niggas really don’t know parts of me pal

[Verse 2]
Who I gotta talk to who I gotta write
Get my Reebok deal done
Or I’m stayin’ in Air Nike’s
Aiight, I handle bars you ain’t gotta ride a bike
To peep game and his skill here go some training wheels
Let’s roll
Through the city of god
Where LA niggas train to kill
Chop you up hundred times worse than the Haitians will
For real naw Pharrell I need a track homie
Dre we to close aint no turning back homie
Deal with it I’m a be here for ten years
Spittin like the ghost of Eric Wright and Big yeah
Let me paint this picture
While you sit here thinking in the back of your mind this is the shit yeah
I spit for you niggas doing 25 on they 5th year ready to throw a nigga off the 5th tier
Them white boys in the Abercrombie and Fitch gear
And every nigga who ever helped me get here

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[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

READ  Put It in the Air (Feat. Sky) - The Game

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

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