Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cellphone, artist - The Game. Album song Blood Moon: Year Of The Wolf, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 13.10.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Entertainment One
Song language: English
Cellphone |
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 |