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The Game

Paramedics (Feat. Young Jeezy) – The Game

Lirik lagu: Paramedics (Feat. Young Jeezy)

[Hook: Young Jeezy]
2 niggas down, 2 niggas run it
Call me snowman, 100 miles and gunning
Here come the paramedics!
It goes 1 for the money, 2 for the dough
All you got is 3 niggas kicking at your door
Here come the paramedics!
It goes 1 for the ghetto, 2 niggas run it
Call me snowman, 100 miles and gunning
Here come the paramedics!

[Verse 1: Young Jeezy]
Here come the pain! I’ve got a name
Ever since an adolescent I’ve been deep in the game
All I need is more weed, a little something for the pain
So good like a hook from T-Pain
They say you’re nobody til somebody kills you
I say “go be somebody, even if it kills you… “
They say “death smells like bad ass weave”
Another watch, another chain: last thing a nigga needs
I swear to God, a couple right by the night stand
Clip my half a hundred, case another hundred grand
And get some rest when your conscious keep waking ya
The evil kicks in and them demons start shaking ya
Every night, dude, I wake up in a cold sweat
Get dressed and hit the club in a cold vest
God damn, girl, you so sexy, cold shit
But why they still riding to your old shit?
Party by the beat, all still riding with ya
Party by the big riders, still siding with ya
Party by the real niggas still hustling to ya
I know you’re here in the day, ain’t nothing to ya

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Game]
See us riding like some mobsters, with the trunk full of choppers
Give a nigga a couple shots, and I ain’t talking about vodka
Hanging out the sunroof, Snowman driving
Nigga live through these shots: Put his ass on Survivor!
Fresh up at the trap, I ain’t never been a rat
Get cheese like a mouse, so I’m honest throwing stack
Let you suckers make it rain, I’ll make it Katrina
And pile all them hoes in the back of my Beemer
Hit the freeway, bumping “Ghetto Boys”, with the V12 steaming
Top down, in the rain, California dreaming
I’d be lying if I said I still flip birds
… Well nigga I still flip birds!
Word to the doors on this [?] I’m sitting on
Ain’t a rapper alive me and Jeezy ain’t shitting on
Who else you know shit out Benjamins, and piss Patron?
Put Michael Buffer between us, and let’s get it on!

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[Hook]

[Verse 3: Game]
(Hey Snowman, these niggas hustling backwards
I’m a pull the K out, and turn em back around)
Look, if I give you half a chicken, can you break that bitch down?
Tell the truth, it’s me nigga, ain’t nobody else around
Jeezy said it’s a recession, so we hustling that Mayweather
My [?] the best pound for pound, like Mayweather
Undisputed: I never lost a brick
UPS, FedEx and duct tape to a bitch
Put her ass on that greyhound
Tell that ho to stay down
Sleep the first 48, and wake up in the A-Town
Give a fuck about a bitch
Die for the paper, hustle relentless
Nigga, I take the sky from a scraper
The Gerber out a baby mouth, the fire out of Satan’s house
These rappers turned saints, we pull them fucking gauges out
Black Tims kicking in the door, at your lady house
He at the strip club, well fuck it, we gon wait it out
You tipped him off, so now all the K’s is out
We [?], shot him down from the neighbor’s house

[Hook]

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The Game

Runnin’ (Feat. Tony Yayo) – The Game

Lirik lagu: Runnin’ (Feat. Tony Yayo)

[Chorus]
Got to live for today cause tomorrow ain’t promised to me
Don’t just want a piece I want my whole destiny
(If you got it)
I’m gone take it
(If you’re in it)
You’re coming with me
(Bench warmers)
Get no playing time
(No sleeping)
Till I cross the line
I’m runnin’

[The Game]
With 99 miles left, on the Avis rental car
blowing horns like Miles Davis at the pearly gate
God let me in
Give me a room by Aaliyah with ESPN
I know I got more sins than two lesbians
Been back and forth across the border like Mexicans
But (I’m runnin’) like New York pedestrians
Trying not to scuff my Nike Air checks again
It’s funny how niggaz be the best of friends
And fall out over pussy and wanna dead they man
One of my niggaz in the grave the other one in the pin
She fuckin my enemies inside my homeboys Benz
Now she beggin God’s mercy cause she ain’t listen to Nas
And never heard about Ike and the Iverson jersey
He got a cousin named Jason that rock the Gary Payton
Now the same trifling bitch is a HIV patient
True story

[Chorus]

[Tony Yayo]
If I get knocked with my gun nigga I’m runnin’
If I catch a murder one nigga I’m runnin’
Homicide come around and they keep on coming
That’s why I’m out of state and I keep on runnin’
I ain’t Nelly but my desert eagles on girl
Just dropped bail traveling the world
When I sign my deal I said fuck jail
I went on tour to Barcelona and Brazil
This shit real fuck an appeal
D’s want my head like that bitch in Kill Bill
Sling dope sling crack and them e pills
That’s why I’m on the low like a damn navy seal
I’m runnin’

READ  Neighborhood Supa Starz (Feat. JT the Bigga Figga) - The Game

[Chorus]

[Game]
Cause I gotta pack them shows
And Dre told me ain’t no coming back from Go
So I gotta get my album in place
My G-Unit features
My Eminem sixteens
My Dr. Dre beats
And it was two years from today when I started rhyming
And took my demo to Suge and he ain’t sign me
Niggaz threatening my life like it’s hard to find me
See me shining in the hood like twenty inch Lexanis
My mom said I’m hard head
I don’t follow the rules
Why should I when Reebok giving niggaz they own shoes
And I’m dealing with the same problems 50 Cent got
Yayo in jail and they think I’m trying to take his spot
I’m in the studio laughing at Chris Rock
Then I turn on MTV and see Soulja Slim shot
And niggaz trying to gun me down in the rim shop
Cause I just want the same recognition that the crypts got
They say I’m the next in line and if I get shot
Then I go out as the Bobby Fischer of hip hop
Make yo chest move
Sylvia Rome and Kevin Lyle slept cool
Jimmy Iovine was the best move

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The Game

Dr. Dre, Pt. 2 – The Game

Lirik lagu: Dr. Dre, Pt. 2

[Dr. Dre:]
In Compton, you either a blood or a crip
Nigga ain’t no one in between
Shit was a hard decision for him to make, cause both his parents was crips
His Uncle Greg was a crip, he died when he was 5
His brother Jevon, he got murdered when he was just 13
After that he decided that being a crip just wasn’t for him
So he ran across the tracks until everything turned red
And never looked back

READ  Street Kings (Feat. Get Low Playaz) - The Game
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The Game

Hit The J (Feat. Lifestyle) – The Game

Lirik lagu: Hit The J (Feat. Lifestyle)

That Marry Jane
That OG Kush, that sour diesel drive them girls insane
I roll it up, she disappear like David Blane
And she ain’t try to book a flight on that paper plane
She don’t wanna hit the J
She don’t wanna hit the J
She don’t wanna hit the J
She don’t wanna hit the J

Don’t want an undefeated title, don’t want my chain
Don’t want that new kid red, bitch, is money gain
See that red Maserati, niggas know it’s game
Drive that bitch down road screens and blow the brains
Got that Rolly on my wrist, man that hoe insane
Remind me of my chick Regatta, she always pay.
Got a squad full chicks, they ain’t dropping names
They all call like the get up play for Notre Dame
What’s the next? Gotta dig ins, yea, that’s right, that’s right
You know I’ll be digging, I’ll be eating on the kitten, I’ll be picking out
Never take her out to crustaceans and the in and out
Just like that Charlie Shay, nigga goin’ in ‘er mouth
She do everything ‘xcept smoke that mean let a nigga poke
That mean she be off the coke like players centerfolds
Swear to God she a potent man
But she like Lindsay Lohan, except she be running from that dope man

That Harry Potter, that Marry Jane
That OG Kush, that sour diesel drive them girls insane
I roll it up, she disappear like David Blane
And she ain’t try to book a flight on that paper plane
Cause she don’t wanna hit the J (she don’t wanna hit the J)
She don’t wanna hit the J (she don’t wanna hit the J)
She don’t wanna hit the J (she don’t wanna hit it)
Now she don’t wanna hit the J (woh oh woh oh)

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Hit these bitches in my face, I’m blowing up
And when I’m stepping in the place, we’ll be calling up
Fourteen bottles of Ace, models showing up
I tell ‘er, homie break that down, and we gon roll it up
It’s Friday and she ain’t got shit to do
And we ain’t got shit to do
So umm, what’s good with you?
Smoke a little, talk a little, roll that up
Girl twist that J, remind me of my nigga Rondo
I know she ain’t trying to hit that J
Different chains, different lokes
Different days, different strokes.
I smoke that shit that made Arnold and Willis broke
You know my lifestyle, squeeshes in them life styles
Bitches in the white house, red Camarro piped out.
I’ll be iced out, my blunts be packed in
I’ll smoke them till it’s no more, I’m like the pack ten
I’m ’bout to pack ten bitches with them accents
Man we ’bout to pack twelve swishers in that black hen

That Harry Potter, that Marry Jane
That OG Kush, that sour diesel drive them girls insane
I roll it up, she disappear like David Blane
And she ain’t try to book a flight on that paper plane
Cause she don’t wanna hit the J (she don’t wanna hit the J)
She don’t wanna hit the J (she don’t wanna hit the J)
She don’t wanna hit the J (she don’t wanna hit it)
Now she don’t wanna hit the J (woh oh woh oh)

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