| I be down in lil Haiti, bagin a lil weezy and a lil baby
|
| In a drop top Mercedes, I’m not what your used to
|
| I’m a lil koo-koo, I’ll put this 9 on your head like a fucking bluetooth
|
| And let the smoke from the Benz exhaust blend with
|
| The smoke from the cough cuz that marijuana I’m smoking
|
| Mary J what’s the 411, call guidos people I need 4 more guns
|
| And shoutout to LL for no fucking reason
|
| Cuz he the reason Def Jam was ever breathing
|
| Number one, you niggas can’t fuck with son
|
| Number two, new DJs don’t have a clue
|
| Number three, to ever to be a real MC
|
| You have to go back to '88 and battle Kool G
|
| Then battle Cool Jay with Cool Herp judging
|
| I’m the opposite of the levy in New Orleans, I’m not budging
|
| Niggas talking bout they cars, nigga I got a dozen
|
| You couldn’t see Game if you were Chris Paul cousin
|
| While we talking 'bout cousin, if you was cousin
|
| Then I’ll be blooding, so you still ain’t saying nothing
|
| I’m coming outta customs, on the phone with Busta
|
| Lil duffle bag boys, I’m swimming in trust funds
|
| So trust that its fun, let ms. |
| white scholar (?)
|
| And this white collar touch my ones
|
| Jay got married, whatup b
|
| I wish I could of threw the rice, just like salt to me
|
| And I’m right where I ought to be
|
| Across from Jack Nickolson nigga playoff seats
|
| Whatup Bynum, how’s that playoff …(?)
|
| Next time-out tell Kobe run the play-off me
|
| Cuz I dribbled in hallways all day, did drive-bys in broad day
|
| And I lost a homie in a car chase
|
| Think I’m bullshitting, call Face, call Mase
|
| I’m a ghetto boy nigga i grew up on Scarface
|
| Call Nas, how that Cuban cigar taste
|
| Ask about the homie Suge, I’ll blow the smoke in your face
|
| Now wouldn’t it be gangsta if i knocked out the nigga that hit him
|
| At the club throw up a motherfucking dub
|
| Im an animal around these parts, I’m a cannibal around your heart
|
| Hannibal chewing through cantaloupe
|
| Couldn’t find a doctor I had to make my own antidote
|
| Never detox and I blow it like Barry Manelope
|
| Cali Cronic Purple Haze, twisting up a back wood
|
| Thinking bout when I was running through 50s back woods
|
| In Connecticut my etiquette was gangsta
|
| Damn, I was right there when he dropped «Wanksta»
|
| The good old days, smoking the good old jays
|
| Rocking good old Jays, the nigga proof or the number fours
|
| I like the number nines, them shits were hot in the summertime
|
| Keep playing I’ll put your ass up under mine
|
| The old Jimmy Henchmen, that’s my ratchet game
|
| Welcome to Compton, corners call it baggage claim |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Baggage Claim, artist - The Game. Album song The Blackwall Street, Vol. 5, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп