Lyrics Jerseys In The Rafters - Snoop Dogg, The Game

Jerseys In The Rafters

Ayo, Dogg, what’s happenin' with motherfuckin' hip-hop, man?
Give us some lyrics, cuh
Some of that real hip-hop, y’know what I’m talkin' about?
Boy, you lost it, nigga
It was him (Who?) then me (Who?) and no one after
So I blaze my trail and wrote my own chapters
Stomped down, pterodactical
Gangsters stained my new jerseys in the rafters
Statisticians, they keep up with it
No sleep 'til they get it
And watch, they doubt it, they count it
So I learned how to dismount it
My landin' was perfect, a man with a purpose
I learned to resurface, a boss, but no workers
While you’re sleepin', I’m lurkin'
I’m shifty at fifty, I keep the work and I’m worth it
Big Snoop D-O double G, yellow like Uncle D
Mellow like R&B, ya bitches keep followin' me
I’m right where I oughta be, plottin' my pottery
I’m watchin' my calories, rechargin' my batteries
A ticket up front?
That’s my usual salary
They imitatin' my style, shit, I call it flattery
I’m here forever, nigga, and that’s just what that’ll be
Look it up, hook it up, charge it to the game until you book it up
Take a picture, nigga, look at us
Hit-Boy and Snoop Dogg in the kitchen, nigga, cookin' up
Ayy Dogg, get on the phone with Dre
Tell Dre call Interscope
Tell 'em niggas run me my shit, or else, nigga
The Game’s to be sold, blood, not to be told, blood
The chronic gettin' broke down, Backwoods get rolled up, yup
Fifty bloods when I showed up
West beef, chopper turn niggas into cold cuts
Snoop told me «Show love,"but niggas ain’t deserve it
I’ma talk my shit like I’m the next rapper murdered
with the Peter Pan workin'
Hand-to-hand serve 'em right outside of
Bullets ain’t got no names, my fully quick to aim
I bully niggas for change, I put in to rip the strains
Puppet master, got 'em duckin' faster
Aftermath, you niggas know it ain’t nothin' after
I can’t chill 'til I see a hundred mill'
Hope off with PJ in Aruba with a blunt, and chill
My old apartments still in action, water the runnin' still
And if I can’t kill you, these LA summers will
It was him (Who?) then me (Who?) and no one after
So I blaze my trail and wrote my own chapters
Stomped down, pterodactical
Gangsters stained my new jerseys in the rafters
Yeah, 2022, Death Row Records, nuff said