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GAME, THE

Blacksox

788 3 часа назад

Текст песни GAME, THE - Blacksox

GAME, THE - Blacksox слова песни



Текст песни GAME, THE - Blacksox




[JT]Another G-Man Stan productionThe originator of this 808 shit in the Bay areaYou got your boy JT the Bigga Figgathuggin it out with my young nigga the Game, and my homey BluechipBlacksox, oh boy! Hooked up with Get Low RecordsPuttin this shit together, my nigga( )It ain't a nigga in the game that could hold me downI've been independent forever so they know me nowAnd I'm the cat they gotta find when they wanna get signedYou wanna get your paper right you gotta study my grindI'm like Rush in "Krush Groove," a nigga that bust movesright out, and tuck tools, bullets that bust dudesAin't no beef in the briefcase, just beef for Pete's sakeWe round up cats, to beat 'em in a street raceWe count paper up, to make a nigga change his plansThey under weight so they ain't gettin off they gramYou mad at my boys, cause we choppin 'em inThey make twenty then the Fig want 10That's the rules that the Get Low, play byThe block boys stay high, California stock with K-5It's the rules that the Get Low play byThem block boys stay high, the California K-5[Chorus: The Game]Huh, it's the Blacksox doin a joint togetherThe whole world stoppin to listen, ol' breakers poplockin to thisAnd white boys headboppin in 6's, niggaz boxin in prisonShit bang hard like a conjugal visitAnd the game ain't big enough for niggaz so move overMatter fact, move out, we takin overThem boys is comin, and they aimin straight for the neckThe B-L-A, C-K, S-O-X[Bluechip]Yo, yo, well it's the B dot L dot, you know the restWanted by the feds, hated by the ATFYou can catch me at the DuPont Inn, two dykes swallowin ginShorty sucked me out of my TimbsMy bad, that's your wife? Fuck your lifeAnyway I heard you workin for viceYou ain't real man you hide behind iceYouse a impostor, snatch him off the rosterAlways live by the rule, get dough, or die tryinHardcoded into shininPass the bucket now I'm back on bet itIf, beef was erased man my tool gon' finishNever been the loudmouth typeSugar Shane of this rap shit, southpaw when the mac spitListen rookie, don't make me mad boyOr you gon' be like Big, a dead (Bad Boy)[Chorus][The Game]Huh, niggaz think they got the game sewed, yeah rightI'm air tight, fresh in them Air NikesIf the Navi outside, I might be thereBlack hoodie, black 9, black wifey airsRock guns like Caddy trunks, keep a spareYou see the lump under the Iceberg fleece and gearAnd when the beef cook, I'ma put the piece to your headAnd if you see a white truck that mean yo' sheets is deadThen I'm goin goin, back backto the block to dump the bucket and jump in the dropNiggaz know I'm good with the glock, they call me Chick HearnsCause if the game on knot, I'm callin the shotsI'll wear a shiny suit for a minute like I'm The LOXThen get gangster with a swap meet bag and a Jordan boxAnd when I die, bury me with the glock, and a bucket of shellsIn case niggaz want drama in hell[Chorus]




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