The Game: 200 Bars and running

[The Game talking] What the fuck is all this noise? He from Cali he can't rap He ain't better than this nigga That's my favorite artist Fuck y'all hear the breakdown [Verse 1: The Game] No detox I'm comfortable dog Like the solo Reeboks right up under me dog And it feel like I done it before Sit in the throne pollutin the airwaves like a hummer exhaust Don't let Makavelli fool you homey thuggin it costs Pour out a little liquor for the loved ones that we lost You ain't gotta wait for the album I don't fuck with The Source But I turn up my Eazy-E and let it bump in the Porsche I mean turn up my B.I.G. and let it bump in the Porsche Tell 'em to roll red carpet when he come in New York Hip-hop police on me think they runnin New York Till I lace my and1 show 'em how to run in New York They tryin to take me downtown put me under the court Cuz Joe Buddens told 'em I carry a gun New York And homey that's strictly fact he got ripped on wax So he snitched just to get me back No matter what you say dog your shit be whack You better watch what you say it might get you clapped Here's a little advice homey switch your raps Cuz that shit on your last album ain't get you plat's What nigga you need a gun? I'll get you that P-89 nigga let Dre stitch you back ??? Industry niggaz I'll admit to that But I don't even want your chain I'll let the Crips do that 12 bars for that bitch he won't live through that Even a nigga with a ten-year bid knew that Put a gun in his mouth yeah, yeah do that He a pussy (sniff, sniff) his own kid knew that I'm +Ready To Die+ B.I.G knew that He ain't eatin look at his white tee you could see his ribs through that You cocksucker let your ears do that Or ride later do me ooh wee now back to rap 2 Lincoln continentals sittin back to back Leavin Jersey City naw nigga Hackensack Where's that somewhere where the crackers at Real far from where the roaches and rats is at Come to Compton I'll show you where the racquet's at Down the street from the staples centers where they hack-a-shack Give the advance money back I am not have to rap Break Harry-O out tell him crack is back That's nine five a bird take half of that Import it, export it in cracker jacks When you get to the projects ask for Black You know what you started with give him half of that He gon give you 50 g's in a plastic sack And i'mma gives you 3500 cash for that Gotta keep your mouth closed or i'mma blast the Mack They won't believe you the whole world know that bastard rap Once you outta the throne you can't have it back Retirement home and ain't nothing after that Except you layin in a casket black Suit on you can't go to heaven with timberland boots on No subliminals I ain't talkin to you Shawn I'm talkin to that heartless mouse with no jewels on Who the fuck put you on Faggot ass nigga let men toss his salad like croutons I fuck with Fab get my DJ Clue on Sit inside Hot 97 with no tools on And it don't matter is it's Sway or KaySlay Angie Martinez I'll take 'em back to k-day They act like they forgot about Dre-day I don't rap for Free that's why they fired AJ It's me leaking through your stereo Envy me is a emcee prepare for your burial I kill niggaz without lettin the Desert blow Razor tongue and I'm far from Haitian son All black like the range rover wheels niggaz whisper around The Game like The Game won't kill Let me show you the stars take you back to the car Rewind time march 3, 1994 I was only in my teen's deuce-deuce in my Levi's When Nas hit the scene I was still rockin knee-highs Runnin with my brother phase he was seventeen Two guns in the upper waist so we hit the block Saw niggaz from a rival gang bumpin Dre Ran up on the '64 and that's all she wrote We runnin through the alley like Bishop chasin ? Ass First murder and I did that without a mask Fast-forward see Game gettin out a Jag Two peeps shoot on he still got his rag Gangbangin forever he still got his swag Let me catch you in Los Angeles without a pass Everybody in New York know that you a fag Come out the closet show the world how to use a pad Speakin death on my red bandana Naw he couldn't have said that so I raised my antennas Look at my Nextel got a call from Santana That nigga a pussy we just saw him in Atlanta So I hopped on the first thing smokin to Atlanta Pulled up at 112 ran up on that black phantom Security hopped out no Joe in here Just Outkast gettin ready for a show in here So I uncocked the .44 hopped in the cherry 'lo-lo Chrome grill with the G-Unit logo We watched Hov go now the world waitin for my solo I'm the man Stat Quo know I ain't gotta explain even Bo know Have of these rap niggaz is faker than rolls gold Get hit in the face with the back of the .44 And pissed on tryin to play The Game with a broke nose My bitch harder than you yeah Vita loco I haven't sold one record got rap in a chokehold I'm Dre certified like the leader of the band Run up you sure to die I'll leave you where you stand Smurf-ette runnin around New York like he the man But he peed in his pants When he saw us at Summer Jam Lucky I wasn't there I had to bury my man Or I would've terrorized New York like the Son Of Sam What you mean terrorize New York? I mean expose these pussy ass niggaz like I'm Too Short Somebody tell Domination I'll leave 'em in parts leg in Jersey, arm in Brooklyn, head buried in Central Park He can't walk through New York no more like john Storch Gotta call cuz i'mma break his ankles like Hot-Sauce Ask niggaz from your hood I'm thorough like 5 boroughs Sit on any stoop ? In the thermo Wait till Alpo come home Like AZ from Harlem Dre gon pay me regardless Cuz he know Jay-Z departed And these other rap labels know don't feed they artists Talkin blueprint shit you got three garages Gettin money off Roc like little E and carter Showin off your little chain like these is flawless Send him 50 cent a day I can see he starvin I got R&B bitches givin me mnage's Deep massages I could hear Eazy talkin Tellin me to have a seat in Tamika's office Buy Ruthless and get Lil' E involved in Promote without that magazine in Boston Take a couple mil make Beans a offer Give him money we don't see that often But it was all a dream like I seen Memph Bleek in Marcy I ain't say you won't see Bleek in Marcy I said my said he won't see Bleek in Marcy I'm from Compton where niggaz used to bleed for barklies Drive lo-lo's and we ain't need keys to start 'em Just a little information for your summer vacation Bring your chain cuz every nigga in L.A. waitin Mad cuz Detroit beat the shit out the Lakers And they'll kill you cuz Joe can't find Gary Payton Meanwhile the throne vacant and Da Band ain't makin it Shyne got a new deal, Def Jam gotta pay us Ray Roy Jones got knocked out shortly after they weighed him in niggaz got beef with G-Unit but ain't sayin shit Quiet as a church on Tuesdays Niggaz say they hate my music but my alerts only two ways Nigga I'm a hazard like Michael Jackson in khakis Touch kids but I do that with a semi-automatic With or without traffic I pull my shit out and blast it I'm blind to the masses like Stevie wonder without glasses I'm a savage spit murder like a .38 Magnum 16 bars of baggum let the hook toe tag 'em Murder any MC throw 'em in that white wagon Let him die and come back look at 'em he white flaggin Spreadin rumors like when I see Game I might jack 'em I'm tellin the world he reach for my chain I might clap 'em Cuz niggaz shot me in 2001 Took one in the heart cuz I was too proud to run The clip was empty when the police found my gun So I don't bring that gangbangin shit around my son Nigga 50 took 9 he know how it feel And I found out Buck got shot up in CaShville And Sha Money told me Lloyd Banks got hit And Yayo just came home G-G-G-Unit Backstage at a D-12 concert A fan asked me how it feel to be walkin in Snoop's converse Niggaz show me love when they see me in the streets But they frown when I don't wanna hear none of they beats Nigga this shit crazy Em said some shit when was 16 now they tryin to warn Slim Shady I forgive him I got problems of my own How you think the streets gon' act know that Suge home These niggaz is birds I can see the feathers on 'em If Doc give me the word I put this Berretta on him When the beef is on my piece is on Them white sheets is on 'em Doc breathin on 'em And I got an extra clip in my Reeboks Cuz I'm in and out my socks every time I see cops Game got the streets locked call 9-1-1 Get the whole fuckin LAPD shot Niggaz snitchin to the street cops Get your nephews and your niece shot With my heat cocked in the beach stop Nigga witta attitude like a heard Dr. Dre doin Detox Niggaz fightin for the throne that ain't shit Tryin to measure the fallin legends but the shoe won't fit Niggaz might think I'm ridin dick Cuz I let the cemetery puttin creases in my G-Unit's Tryin to talk Jesus Christ into lettin me dig 'em up So they could stand side by side again and live it up This might be the last time you hear me biggin 'em up With suicidal thoughts bangin me and my bitch in the truck My conscience tellin me if I put the clip in the buck It might be loud enough to wake B.I.G and them up What if that was P. Diddy sittin in the truck And 2Pac was in jail the day you called to hit him up I wouldn't be outside 40/40 bumpin 'Jigga What' Wouldn't be sign to Dr. Dre I wonder is its luck They got me on MTV with Banks, Fifth, and Buck I ain't tryin to be L.A.'s king he carry a pimp cup [The Game talking] Snoop Dogg got the crown nigga What the fuck y'all mad at me for I ain't sold one fuckin record I'm just tryin to use these 200 bars to feed my family nigga I ain't no threat I can't rap I'm from Compton remember You gotta be out your motherfuckin mind Ask KaySlay, ask Clue, ask Whoo Kid, ask Funk Flex I'll murder anyone of you motherfuckin G-G-G-G-Unit Ah!