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GAME, THE

Lookin' At You (feat. Mac Minister)

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Текст песни GAME, THE - Lookin' At You (feat. Mac Minister)

GAME, THE - Lookin' At You (feat. Mac Minister) слова песни



Текст песни GAME, THE - Lookin' At You (feat. Mac Minister)




[Chorus: sung by Tracey Nelson]Walkin down the street, in my All StarsIn my, khaki suit, doin what (I) doWalkin down the street, smokin, chronicIn my black locs, lookin, (AT) you[The Game]( )Guess who's back on the West coast tracksIt's the motherfuckin messiah of gangsta rapStill dip in the six-fo', still puffin on the same chronicHaters mad cause I still got itI never fall off, even without the DocYou niggaz sellin your soul tryin to stay on topBitch nigga check your Kotex, you niggaz ain't movin shitlike the hand on a fake-ass RolexI'm five million sold, the cover of my last albumthe only time you see me sittin on goldI'm the most anticipated, most celebratedMost loved and the motherfuckin most hatedKeep rollin like gold DaytonsNiggaz got the game fucked up like Hennessy with a Coke chaserYou gotta deal with me, I'm the West coast saviourNiggaz think of me everytime they six-fo' scraper[Mac Minister]What do you call a nigga who's overbearinBelligerent, foul, defiant and very disrespectfulYou call that nigga the Doctor's AdvocateHe's a reflection of Dr. Dre in his heyday in the worst wayThe five star surgeon generalTook Jayceon to the Aftermath research departmentAnd gave him a blood testIt came back G-A-M-E positiveThe nigga's infected with the Game virusHis oratorical skills are so impeccableThat niggaz in the streets call him CyrusThe young don who is down with violencecause in his heart he's a tyrantIt's not a game, it's just called The GameThere'll be no referees, no halftime reportsWhen the game is over, The Game is overYou can't put a quarter in the machine and get three mo' menTHAT'S, the end[Chorus][The Game]I done been to hell and backLeft for dead, you know who to thank for thatFinished my second LP without a Dr. Dre trackYou can take my soul but can't take my plaquesI'm the motherfuckin snare when it touch the beatI'm the 808 drum that got you movin your feetI'm the heir to the throne after the D-R-EProduct of my environment, you old-ass niggazget ready for your early retirementBefore I let hip-hop burn down I run in the building like a firemanWho can outspit me when I'm high off stickyThrowin back Patron shots in some creased up dickiesI'm D.O.C. certified, Ice Cube (Lynch'd) meSnoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked meYou still with me? Me and my miccan't be seperated like Interscope and - hahahaOhhh shitThis some good ass motherfuckin weedCalifornia sticky green!This is the aftermath for the AftermathWest, coast!




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