| I remember days on Crenshaw, take a nigga Beamer
|
| Hit the hood, take his rims off
|
| Then hit that block, let him hear that Pac
|
| That shit don’t stop
|
| Soo woo, new coupe, through the west side
|
| New Benz, top down, new rims, new bitch throwin' up P’s, whoo whoop
|
| Compton niggas ain’t never gon' be the same
|
| It’s in my blood, you see my veins
|
| You see my tats, you feel my pain
|
| You in my hood? |
| You from a gang
|
| You got 2 seconds to answer where you from, or you gon' see your brains
|
| Now that you slumped I see your change
|
| Nigga we got canals, shelves, niggas that tried, niggas that died
|
| Niggas that fell well, off in their jail cell
|
| Shit, we got niggas with full clips
|
| That dip through you set and disappear like «Hell Rell»
|
| No bail like the peace price
|
| Get caught up in the middle of the street at the light, you fuckin' bean pie
|
| Middle of your forehead nigga, that’s where your beam lie
|
| (You be ok) Cause I done seen God
|
| Niggas sellin' crack, Dre sellin' headphones
|
| 2Pac in heaven, bumpin' Biggie «Dead Wrong»
|
| Cherry red Impala, Bible had
|
| I just killed a nigga on my cellphone
|
| Puff sellin' vodka, weed got my head gone
|
| G-Man in heaven, name on that headstone
|
| LJ in prison, and my nigga Legs gone
|
| I just killed a nigga on my cellphone
|
| Stop that
|
| Playin' chronic, blazin' chronic with the windows tinted
|
| Cause those that don’t cut the checks, the ones in yo' business
|
| Rappers sendin' death threats but still ain’t sent no killers
|
| You take a stretch squeeze myself, can’t depend on niggas
|
| Shit on niggas check the urinal and you’ll see
|
| That I be droppin' jewels and you should take 'em like a jewel thief
|
| Wolves teeth is what I use to eat my fuckin' pray up with
|
| Used to make the yayo flip now Game told me to lay your hits
|
| Teamed up, toured the US just to let the name ring
|
| Goin' home to fuck shit up, I did the King James thing
|
| Steak and lobster with the gentleman, sit with a gangster posture
|
| Blowin' all these bands fans, screamin' like it’s Frank Sinatra
|
| Made it out the South Bay village homies hate I prosper
|
| But I don’t owe you niggas shit, I’m supposed to thank my mama
|
| Only chase for commas, got 'em in now raise the Llama
|
| Hotter than a blazin' comet, fuckin' south central moth
|
| The fuck?
|
| Oh shit
|
| What?
|
| This mother fucker’s recording down him sucking a warm dick nigga
|
| You bullshit
|
| Nigga bring your mother fuckin phone, I gotta get this shit on the gram nigga,
|
| gotta get my followers up,
|
| I’m gonna blow the internet up with this mother fucker
|
| That bitch on WorldStar nigga
|
| Damn
|
| Push the door open nigga, watch out
|
| Oh the nigga bustin' on
|
| Nasty bitch
|
| Bitch get the fuck out of my house bitch
|
| Nasty bitch
|
| The dead nigga, the mother fucker wolf game head, bitch I dodn’t even know
|
| Wolves could cum my nigga
|
| Lowkey
|
| Shawty got the best head ever |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cellphone , by - The Game. Song from the album Blood Moon: Year Of The Wolf, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп