| Big blunts in the air, I dont even care
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| Spilling Ace of Spades on my all white airs
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| Stuntin in my J’s
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| I got every pair, they put out since '85
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| Cus a nga bout his gear
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| Hoes all up in my ear, cus im stylin'
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| Try to go bottle for bottle with us
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| Can’t do it, money we runnin through us
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| So competition throw the towel in
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| We over here, with fireworks up in the air
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| Bitches with good hair, cus you know we about to spark
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| Bobby Ray just walked in, Wiz about to park
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| The party bout to start, jewelry glowing in the dark
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| We got all the bitches wet, Skylar Diggins from the?
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| And you know your boy is sharp, cus she in my bed
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| I tell her take her clothes off, and open her legs
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| Keep them Louboutins on when she giving head
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| Cus you already know my favorite colour RED!
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| Im gettin bread while im
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| Standing on the corner
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| Watching my logo
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| I got my dime in the crib, iron in my Polo
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| Soon as your boy hit the streets, you know that I’m clean
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| So fresh and so clean, Outcast know what I mean
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| I throw that Andre 3000, one in the changer
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| And I dont ride through the hood, with out one in the chamber
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| You know i used to be broke but now nga im getting it
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| As I roll up up, I sit back and laugh in amazement
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| As how this all started in bottom of a basement
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| Back when i got started, nga saying «your shit is basic»
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| Now when you mention me, you must say Grammy nominated
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| All these haters drunk of hate, they basically wasted
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| Call a cab for these ngas, cus they ain’t gon make it
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| Can somebody please tell me just where Bobby Ray is
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| Well he’s prolly faded, prolly in a spaceship
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| Prolly outside of his mind, cus you know he crazy
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| But I kind of dig his style, its pretty contagious
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| Man them prolly doing him all kind of favors
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| I mean, it’s gotta be absolutely outrageous
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| Well, I couldn’t tell you what it is
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| More people tell me that they down, the bigger that I get
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| But I just keep doing my thang, cruise control in my own lane
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| And let these suckas complain
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| Im standing on the corner, watching the world go
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| I got my dime in the crib, holding up their dolo
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| Soon as your boy hit the stage you know the screaming
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| Its that pandemonium, if you know what i mean
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| I throw that Eastside up, Compton to Decatur
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| And on the Westside, I hit the homie Game up
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| I used to be letting on, now the ngas listening
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| Big money talk, big joint to spark
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| These Jordans on my feet, that’s hoe big money walk
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| Shawty give me head, like she don’t need body parts
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| Running my city like the King of New York
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| Poppin' champagne, hit him with the cork
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| Eating so good, nga need a fork
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| And i ball hard, nga need a court
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| The way lil mama give me brain, i swear she must have been a dork
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| Durrrrrr, you know me i keep one rolled up
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| Smoking with my bitch from overseas, where my Porsche from
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| And these hating ngas get no love
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| I be rolling weed, getting rich, fucking they bitch
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| Letting you spend all of your m, sending her on trips
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| I meet her there, you know, 'cus you smell the weed in her hair
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| You worried bout me keeping it player, instead you failed
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| Treated her fair, don’t need to look, she in the air
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| Standing on the corner, talking that shit
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| You ain’t really saying nothing, just hating of him
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| Every time i’m in my car i’m smoking that green
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| Even though this real life, its like a movie scene
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| I ain’t in the club if I Don’t Blaze Up
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| It don’t matter where I go, I’m throwing my gang up
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| Nobody used to know me but but
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| Now a nigga famous, now a nga famous |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Standin On a Corner, artist - The Game. Album song The Blackwall Street, Vol. 7, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп