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The Game

Scream on Em (Feat. Swizz Beatz) – The Game

Lirik lagu: Scream on Em (Feat. Swizz Beatz)

[Swizz Beatz]
Yeah… y’all really want this to happen? (Game time!)
C’mon! … ARRRRRRRRGH!

[The Game]
Homey it’s hard not to kill niggaz; it’s like a full time job
not to pull out the steel and shove it in your grill
Young California got that mass appeal
I summons the hood, they get up in yo’ ass for real
Knockout flow, Winky Wright jab for real
And all you niggaz pussy, need Massengil
See I’m the gun-cocker, one-shotter, lift ’em off the ground
Chop ’em down, like a cantaloupe, my flow the antidote
Sick flow, it’s so, motherfuckin six-fo’
Your bitch know, hop in the back when you see Swizz hoe
Diss that, all you niggaz get up off my dick so
I can cook crack on the track and watch it mix slow
Cocaine, my flow fire, call it propane
Every nigga know Game, five shots no pain
And that’s the reason why I’m shittin on you niggaz
Shut me in the looney bin, I’m sicker than you niggaz

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
(ARRRRRRRRGH!)
This is that disrespectful, motherfuckin West coast
Hip-hop death blow, Swizz Beatz, let’s go!

[The Game]
Where I’m from, I seen the most stand up niggaz lay down
Where skinny niggaz make buff niggaz victims of that trey-pound
And gangbangers is the sharpshooters, we don’t need no rooftops
Just knock his ass down and take the money out his tube socks
West coast niggaz is back on the map
If only for now until the next time I body a track
From the first clap I hurt rap, now watch the earth crack
Bring the hearse back, and take a lyrical dirt nap
I roll with the hardest niggaz, make money with the smartest niggaz
I ain’t got time for you fuckin artist niggaz
Better shut your trap before you become a target nigga
Y’all army brats I’m the motherfuckin sargeant nigga
Beauty pageant-ass niggaz on the runway
(Boyz N The Hood) ’til they see the nigga in that red Hyundai
Blow his fuckin back out, cause I’m the rap Stackhouse
Black Wall Street bitch, the hip-hop crackhouse, what?

READ  Yonkers Freestyle Base (Feat. Nobody) - The Game

[Chorus]

[The Game]
My flow opposite of handsome, it’s ugly
Hip hop tantrum, sick, call the shit cancer
One man show cause I fucked all the dancers
Let the critics ask questions, my album be the answer
These niggaz let the rumors sit in they head like tumors
So I had to take ’em back, to toothbrush on the Pumas
Clean… mean… rappin machine
Red rag hangin low in the back of my jeans
I black out like February, back out what’s necessary
Oh-seven Bugatti with Jimmy Iovine’s secretary
I’m runnin the buildin, don’t make me run in the buildin
No this ain’t the first time I had my gun in the buildin
Walkin past offices I see my son in the buildin
Last album on the wall I’m number one in the buildin
They should build me an office up under the buildin
My elevator goin down, I am done in the buildin nigga

[Chorus]

[Swizz Beatz]
We in the motherfuckin buildin man
You ain’t got your motherfuckin mind right?
You gon’ get your mind blown out your motherfuckin mind right nigga
It is what the fuck it is man
How y’all wanna cut the cake?
You touch this you get your hands cut off, nigga
Swizz Beatz the motherfuckin monster
Game is in the motherfuckin buildin
We could turn this whole motherfuckin world red nigga
Bitch!

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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  Justo Tribute - 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  Bad Intentions - 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)

READ  Justo Tribute - The Game

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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