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GAME, THE

Put It In The Air (feat. Sky)

605 3 часа назад

Текст песни GAME, THE - Put It In The Air (feat. Sky)

GAME, THE - Put It In The Air (feat. Sky) слова песни



Текст песни GAME, THE - Put It In The Air (feat. Sky)




[19 second instrumental to open][Sky]Who's hot, who's not; I been the hottest thingon the West, ever since the death of TupacKept my crack in clear capsules with blue topsAnd it's still nothin for me to get you shot( )You see him? Yup, the same ol' pimpSky baller, and ain't nuttin changed but my limpNatural born player, mine not a lame or a simpThe world is mine, you see my name on a blimpStay Dolce Gabbana'd down, play the Bahamas nowYouse a donkey, I'ma piranha clownI keep thick bread, in the pockets of my sweatsWhile I'm drivin I get head in the cockpit of my 'VetteAnd my game is sharp as a mosquito's needleAs far as the charts, young S be's the BeatlesPurple haze smoke in the urr, blow in the windThe rims right there when I stop they still go and they spinI can teach you how to stunt boy, and pop that trunk boyThem city slickers ain't never been punks boySo fix your ice grill, and your mean mugUnless you wanna feel a few M-16 slugs[Chorus 2X: The Game]Nigga you got a blunt then put it in the airNigga you got a gun then put it in the airNigga you from a gang then put in in the airPlay with Killa Cali if you want, muh'fuckers[The Game]I ain't got no time for fake ones, so don't think for a secondI won't pull this 45 and put your stomach where your neck isIf I tell you kiss the sky better respect itOr get yo' ass hog-tied, butt-ass nakedI'm doin this for Eazy, like it or notI wouldn't even be rappin if Eric Wright wouldn'ta droppedI love this shit, I work and I'm goodI ain't on corner fuckers but I'm still in the hoodI'm poised to go platinum, that's what the magazines sayinFuck The Source, I got my own magazines manI call her Shirley, she got a 32 round clipAnd she love hangin out wit'chu girliesI'm like them Philly nigs that come through "Early"Through your front door without knockin like Mr. FurleyIt's just me, you and the semi - "Three's Company"You want the crown, you be U.G.K. like Bun B[Chorus][Sky]I rock jewels, cop tools, I will not loseA million miles a minute is how my block movesI stay in the fast lane, never fakin, cheddar chasinI'm in the game for the cash mayneAnd bitches play this in they Benzes, Jeeps and G.O.'sThey say I'm arrogant and got a big egoBut they still love to swallow me upAnd every hotel suite, they wanna follow me upBut I ain't gon' put my dick in for free, nah maYou want the kid then you gotta pay this pimpin a feeAnd ain't no champagne left, so let's toast 'gnacSky baller and Game 'bout to bring the West coast backI'm on that get dough shit, that Frank War{?} pimpin that ho shitIn Cali smokin that 'dro shitI still push fishscale, and china whiteA lil' nigga with a big gun and I ain't tryin to fight[Chorus]




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