Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Eat Ya Beats Alive (feat. The Game), artist - The Game. Album song The Hidden Hand - Deluxe Edition, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 06.12.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: DJ NETWORK
Song language: English
Eat Ya Beats Alive (feat. The Game) |
Three wheel motion around the corner on these niggas mayne |
Smashin down the block, Charlie O beat in the deck |
Game, what it do? |
(What it do?) |
They love the way a nigga hop them six-fours and shit |
The way I, push buttons make them Diablo doors lift |
The way I, stick and move, when I’m behind the wheel |
Of that new Escalade with the Foreman grill |
The way I, peel back niggas jerseys |
It ain’t your life, I’m just not a big fan of James Worthy |
So wait 'til I see y’all, I’m real surgical with the Ruger |
But you won’t catch my face on E. R |
But you might catch them dudes from the ambulance |
Squattin on top of ya mans givin 'em each CPR |
Tryin to get 'em to «Breathe Again» like Toni Braxton |
Told y’all 'bout comin to Cali, with them phony accents |
Hollywood got movies, but it ain’t no actin |
So wear that bling to them awards like it ain’t no jackers |
We chain snatchers (twenty-fo' seven) |
When you’re on the West coast — eat ya beats alive |
When ya come to the lab — eat ya beats alive |
Fuckin with this cash — eat ya beats alive |
Cause it’s all about math — eat ya beats alive |
When you’re on the West coast — eat ya beats alive |
When ya come to the lab — eat ya beats alive |
All about this cash — eat ya beats alive |
Nigga all about math — eat ya beats alive |
It ain’t nuttin to spray you faggots |
Or have your moms get you a Burberry suit so you look good in that casket |
It’s you faggots, desperado in tact |
June, Drago, The Game and D-Mac (holla) |
Come through in a grim reaper black Cadillac |
Seven-three, ooh-wee, you see, who he |
With the ugliest, flows, money hungriest |
Oh, the kid got hoes, you ain’t know? |
Head is never optional, get my whistle, blizzow |
Carry pistols, to your Sources and your Grammys |
Of course it’s that nigga that kick down doors |
And leave rooms filled with corpses, Jordan and bloody Air Forces |
To get my dough I come back like Air Jordan |
Same shot, lil' older, still no nigga can hold him |
Stepped back, sold crack let the Compton streets mold him |
Big face said I could it, he’ll bet you a G |
See I’m the nigga with the most flow |
Figgaro from killer Cali, reppin Get Low, niggas know |
Independent with my hustle |
Couldn’t give a fuck money or muscle it’s time to bubble |
West coast is the place where we holdin it down |
Bay area thuggin, they knowin it now |
I’m from the home of the Get Low, home of the get dough |
Home where they want mo' so niggas get they pistol |
Run up in yo' back do', lookin for the cheddar cheese |
Canary wristwatch on celebrities |
Diamond bezelled iced out with hella cheese |
And every fuckin link is like a masterpiece |
Catch 'em slippin comin out the Burger King |
Parkin lot project life, we like to spark a lot |
Better known as a bandit, niggas cain’t stand it |
My whole block gets hard like granite |
Nigga |