Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Future, artist - The Game. Date of issue: 23.02.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Future |
| Guess I am a bad guy, I can see you like it You can be the headline, if I can be your sidekick |
| Baby this can be the future ('ture, 'ture, 'ture) |
| Baby this can be the future ('ture, 'ture) |
| Hey! |
| Hey! |
| Amalgam Digital baby! |
| Goin, goin, gone (let's go) |
| Jump Off |
| Free World |
| Baby girl is addicted (it's okay!), OD You can have any dude in this world but chose me (oh …) |
| You can have any chick in this world but chose her |
| To play the backseat and direct the chauffeur (uh) |
| And that ain’t just Jazz, ain’t down with Okur (I could) |
| I play publicist and give her exposure |
| (I mean a) keep you in the latest |
| (I mean a) damn near waistless |
| Body like a porn star (whoa, whoa), smile like a waitress (oh!) |
| Now she turnin me, uh, uh, on, uh, uh, on, uh, uh, on I mean, why get Club Bed or Club Med? |
| See (when) |
| We can just club in the bed of my mansion (cheah) |
| Leave for the weekend, jet to the Hamptons (hey) |
| Tats on her torso, (I mean), I love how she handle it (oh) |
| A shoe game, show off, just frontin (what?) |
| But baby don’t blink or you bound to miss somethin, come on Hey! |
| Hey! |
| Jump Off, I got it from here |
| Double Up! |
| Yeah |
| She want to roll with a rock star, fuck I’m him |
| Coupe, white air, seven five, eight cent |
| California slim |
| 501 blue, jeans on trim, New York match the brim |
| Lower than Manhattan (uh), lower than my pants saggin (uh) |
| Lower than my baby momma leanin in that Benz wagon (yeah) |
| And you can be heard, Toy Bird slip ons |
| LV clip ons, haters get shit on! |
| We roll up, 24's, so what? |
| Haters all swoll up Haters want my chain (ka ka), hold up |
| I’m not that nigga, I’m that nigga, so Jump Off or jump off (uhh) |
| Once enemies, my nemesis and I Was stuck in the Genesis, Free World is our reply |
| Let bygones be bygones, I’m gone |
| Let all your pain be champagne and Patron |
| Hey! |
| Baby this could be the |
| Hey! |
| Ta ha Baby this could be the |
| Come a, come a, come on Come a, come a, come a, come a, come on (talk to 'em) |
| Look she stay back, my baby grownin old |
| Little bit of cologne, little bit of Patron |
| Is how I got her home |
| (I mean a) now you say we spent mad hours on the phone, |
| like we both ain’t grown (yeah) |
| Wrist kind of heavy, I’m a little well known |
| Matching crosses, different color stones |
| (what?) |
| See, in one line I got her to come over |
| Tell her I’m dumb sober, but hung over |
| She play the club, sippin on Mimosa (hey) |
| I can fit your whole crew in one Rover |
| Just kick your shoes off 'fore you step in |
| (I mean) the cribs mine and I’m livin like the Jetson |
| Well let’s head OT, cop a one way |
| Step off the runway like we on the runway |
| Have your girlfriends thinkin you a runaway |
| Never mind, I already know what you gon’say (uh) |
| Cheah |
| Hey |
| Cheah |
| Ta ha Baby this could be the |
| Come a, come a, come on, come a Talk to 'em |
| Yeah (hey) |
| I mean, I’m thinkin this can be the |
| I’m thinkin, I’m thinkin this can be the |