Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lookin At You, artist - The Game. Album song Doctor's Advocate, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 31.12.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Geffen
Song language: English
Lookin At You |
| Walkin down the street, in my All Stars |
| In my, khaki suit, doin what (I) do |
| Walkin down the street, smokin, chronic |
| In my black locs, lookin, (AT) you |
| Guess who’s back on the West coast tracks |
| It’s the motherfuckin messiah of gangsta rap |
| Still dip in the six-fo', still puffin on the same chronic |
| Haters mad cause I still got it |
| I never fall off, even without the Doc |
| You niggaz sellin your soul tryin to stay on top |
| Bitch nigga check your Kotex, you niggaz ain’t movin shit |
| like the hand on a fake-ass Rolex |
| I’m five million sold, the cover of my last album |
| the only time you see me sittin on gold |
| I’m the most anticipated, most celebrated |
| Most loved and the motherfuckin most hated |
| Keep rollin like gold Daytons |
| Niggaz got the game fucked up like Hennessy with a Coke chaser |
| You gotta deal with me, I’m the West coast saviour |
| Niggaz think of me everytime they six-fo' scraper |
| What do you call a nigga who’s overbearin |
| Belligerent, foul, defiant and very disrespectful |
| You call that nigga the Doctor’s Advocate |
| He’s a reflection of Dr. Dre in his heyday in the worst way |
| The five star surgeon general |
| Took Jayceon to the Aftermath research department |
| And gave him a blood test |
| It came back G-A-M-E positive |
| The nigga’s infected with the Game virus |
| His oratorical skills are so impeccable |
| That niggaz in the streets call him Cyrus |
| The young don who is down with violence |
| cause in his heart he’s a tyrant |
| It’s not a game, it’s just called The Game |
| There’ll be no referees, no halftime reports |
| When the game is over, The Game is over |
| You can’t put a quarter in the machine and get three mo' men |
| THAT’S, the end |
| I done been to hell and back |
| Left for dead, you know who to thank for that |
| Finished my second LP without a Dr. Dre track |
| You can take my soul but can’t take my plaques |
| I’m the motherfuckin snare when it touch the beat |
| I’m the 808 drum that got you movin your feet |
| I’m the heir to the throne after the D-R-E |
| Product of my environment, you old-ass niggaz |
| get ready for your early retirement |
| Before I let hip-hop burn down I run in the building like a fireman |
| Who can outspit me when I’m high off sticky |
| Throwin back Patron shots in some creased up dickies |
| I’m D.O.C. |
| certified, Ice Cube (Lynch'd) me |
| Snoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked me |
| You still with me? |
| Me and my mic |
| can’t be seperated like Interscope and — hahaha |
| Ohhh shit |
| This some good ass motherfuckin weed |
| California sticky green! |
| This is the aftermath for the Aftermath |
| West, coast! |