[The Game:] As my, Daytons spin, lowrider sittin low Hittin corners so hard you can taste my rims Rag top six-fo', Henny in the passenger side Smokin chronic just +Let Me Ride+ You would do it if my name was Dre, second comin motherfucker Throw it up for the king of L.A. I'm known for makin bitches take they clothes off Long as I'm from Compton, California I could never go soft I'm hard as a motherfuckin ounce of raw Dribble rock like Kobe Bryant bounce the ball Fuck the law!! Feedin my son is a must Whip it soft, whip it hard, in crack we trust Why Andrew Jackson look high as fuck on the 20, G answer Cocaine been around for centuries Since I'm young, black and rich, I'm the +Public Enemy+ Ridin the bass drum, Just Blaze got the +Remedy+
[Chorus:] [Chuck D: scratched] "Now they got me in a cell" I got the remedy [Chuck D: scratched] "Now they got me in a cell" Aftermath got the remedy [Chuck D: scratched] "Now they got me in a cell" Nigga 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 me I'm from the city of angels where that Jacob watch is a trophy And starin at that Hollywood sign'll get you straight jacked (Where you from fool?) Better say you pro-black Causin walkin in Roscoe's wit'cha chain hangin is like Giuliani tryin to get rid of the gangbaners Now that 'Pac passed, tryin to put us on Death Row Get ready for the Aftermath I run through the city like Godzilla Doin mo' damage than Ice-T when he dropped +Cop Killer+ Pull a shotty out the trunk of the Chevy There go another victim of a one-eight-seven Who's the grim reaper wit'cha life in his hand Even the toughest niggaz run when my gun go... blam So 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 so All 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 up The West Coast still dippin Game still Bloodin, and Snoop still Crippin So what you sayin loc? Red and blue bandana tied in a knot, as I creep through the chronic smoke They say it ain't good weed if you don't choke Shit got my head spinnin like the hundred spokes Three wheelin through the neighborhood System on blast, as the motherfuckin one-time pass The key to drivebys is aim steady Turn that Bape hoody into motherfuckin confetti When you cross that enemy line Close your eyes, (Parental Discretion Iz Advised)Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
