Lyrics The Future - The Game, Joe Budden

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