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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

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[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

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[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

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[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

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.

READ  Ol' English - The Game

[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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The Game

Bad Intentions – The Game

Lirik lagu: Bad Intentions

Bad intentions nigga
Fucking with the wrong one
Call Dre tell that nigga I’m on one
Aftermath nigga we blaze cuban cigars
Drive foreign cars into the stars
Fuck bitches at our leisure
Stuff dick inside they throat til they have seizures
Hoes down, B’s up
Roll the trees up, Smokey Robinson
Start trippin, I like his jewelry, then I’m robbin son
Fuck a platinum plaque nigga hood with it
Bouncin that impala down the shore like what’s good with it?
I’m a made man, I wear J’s and
I been around more rocks than a fuckin cave man
I done sold it and bagged it
I done drove it and crashed it
Fucked my credit up smashin the Ashton
FYI nigga I got a magnum,
Only time I been punked was by Ashton Kutcher
I’m a motherfuckin butcher
Leave me around anything white and I’m a cook it
I be all up in the kitchin
No need for an apron, playboy
I’m a professional, I’m cakin playboy
The last real D-boy up in this rap shit
Chrome 24s with the fat lip, call the shits? cash
? Fuckin with the bomb squad
Dismantle any MC for free, you been warned god
Church, Higher power
Impala sittin clean like it took 5 showers
Nigga I’m the G.A.M.E. so don’t you tempt me
Your chest’ll be full and my clip will be empty
I’m simply one of the most raw niggas in this shit
Why you think that I got in this shit?
Paid for my momma house, bout 700k
Can’t stop smokin but I’m down to a blunt a day
Yay, I mean yayo
On the block sun up sun down like where the day go?
We come through chargin nigga like San Diego
Seventeen chargers, couple of em same color but the shit is ok though
Cause all my niggas on the payroll get caught slippin, get a halo
And I ain’t talking bout the x-box
Niggas let the tech knock
Welcome to the real life, black ops
Where it’s still fuck the police, white and black cop
And we ain’t killin Jonny, no
Nigga give em an ass shot
Put him on injured reserve
Tie my number twelves up and then I give him the bird, word
That’s how I get down, all you rap niggas floppin
Who talkin shit now? only Drake and Yay worth coppin
I take a hiatus, spend a little time gamblin in Vegas
Come back to back runnin faster than five Lakers
So mother fuck a hater and his family
About to finish the R.E.D. album up in Miami
Lebron can’t stand me, cause I got this purp in my cup
24s on the truck, Laker game nigga what?
Ballin, Jim Jones voice probably with the Byrd Gang
See the chrome boy? and my mother fuckin home boys
But I’m from Cali not to be confused with Khaled
He say that we the best but I’m the best that’s valid
And before you try to say that that’s a diss,
I was up at Khaled’s house two days ago bitch
Sippin on a Long Island ice tea with a white bitch
That was just as bad as Ice-T’s, but she’s not the wifey
The wife be at home with the kid’s
Look at them and see how a motherfucker live
24 cars, 5 and a half cribs, I was spending money like goin broke was the shit, shit.

READ  Bad Intentions - The Game

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