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GAME, THE

Remedy

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Текст песни GAME, THE - Remedy

GAME, THE - Remedy слова песни



Текст песни GAME, THE - Remedy




[The Game]As my, Daytons spin, lowrider sittin lowHittin corners so hard you can taste my rimsRag top six-fo', Henny in the passenger sideSmokin chronic just (Let Me Ride)You would do it if my name was Dre, second comin motherfuckerThrow it up for the king of L.A.( )I'm known for makin bitches take they clothes offLong as I'm from Compton, California I could never go softI'm hard as a motherfuckin ounce of rawDribble rock like Kobe Bryant bounce the ballFuck the law!! Feedin my son is a mustWhip it soft, whip it hard, in crack we trustWhy Andrew Jackson look high as fuck on the 20, G answerCocaine been around for centuriesSince I'm young, black and rich, I'm the (Public Enemy)Ridin the bass drum, Just Blaze got the (Remedy)[Chorus][scratched:] "Now they got me in a cell" - Chuck DI got the remedy[scratched:] "Now they got me in a cell" - Chuck DAftermath got the remedy[scratched:] "Now they got me in a cell" - Chuck DNigga back up (back up) back up (back up)'Fore you get your punk-ass smoked[The Game]I ain't no joke G, so don't provoke meI'm from the city of angels where that Jacob watch is a trophyAnd starin at that Hollywood sign'll get you straight jacked(Where you from fool?) Better say you pro-blackCausin walkin in Roscoe's wit'cha chain hanginis like Giuliani tryin to get rid of the gangbanersNow that 'Pac passed, tryin to put us on Death RowGet ready for the AftermathI run through the city like GodzillaDoin mo' damage than Ice-T when he dropped (Cop Killer)Pull a shotty out the trunk of the ChevyThere go another victim of a one-eight-sevenWho's the grim reaper wit'cha life in his handEven the toughest niggaz run when my gun go... blamSo kick back and watch the bitches dance N.W.A. is back, now let me see your motherfuckin hands[Chorus] [The Game]I'm back by popular demand and soAll black interior on the cherry red six-fo'Niggaz endin they careers tryin to shut me up Actin like I traded in my khakis for a button upThe West Coast still dippinGame still Bloodin, and Snoop still CrippinSo what you sayin loc? Red and blue bandanatied in a knot, as I creep through the chronic smokeThey say it ain't good weed if you don't chokeShit got my head spinnin like the hundred spokesThree wheelin through the neighborhoodSystem on blast, as the motherfuckin one-time passThe key to drivebys is aim steady Turn that Bape hoody into motherfuckin confettiWhen you cross that enemy lineClose your eyes, (Parental Discretion Iz Advised)




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