Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pest Control , by - The Game. Release date: 19.09.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Pest Control |
| All rats gotta die though |
| In New York, Quad Studios, gettin' high though |
| Off that sour diesel and that hydro |
| This nigga take an L every time he go viral |
| Welcome to the West, and this ain’t The Life of Pablo |
| Stay on that bullshit it’s gon' start to feel like Chicago |
| Keep it one hunnid, you Nicki Minaj sideshow |
| Still chasin' dreams, I made «Dreams» in '05 though |
| Ridin' around, 10 Cam Newtons in the Tahoe |
| And when we touch down everybody catchin' spirals |
| Dressed in all black like the Panthers |
| We seen your Sway freestyle, Omelly ain’t the answer |
| You ain’t got the answers, man! |
| You ain’t got the answers! |
| (Kanye…) You ain’t |
| got the answers! |
| You ain’t got the answers, Sway! |
| I’ve been doin' this more |
| than you! |
| Niggas ain’t got the answers for me |
| You shoulda went and got A.I., left Beans in rehab |
| Yeah, take Beans back to rehab |
| On Instagram lookin' like a mothafuckin' bean bag |
| Flyin' through Philly on them Wocky sticks |
| Punk-ass nigga, I’ll beat you with a hockey stick |
| The nigga Hov gave you the game, you ain’t soak it |
| You was s’posed to throw up the Roc, not smoke it |
| Talkin' you gon' be in L.A. in three hours |
| It’s a 5-hour flight, put this bum in the shower |
| Pussy, I’m not a rookie, akhi, don’t push me |
| Strapped, Ninja Turtles, nigga’s runnin' with a rat |
| Now Tak tell 'em how you coppin' pleas on the jack |
| Fuck runnin' in the game, you gon' be runnin' into Wack |
| You jumped Quentin Miller and now you don’t scrap |
| It was time to go at Drizzy and now you don’t rap |
| Ask your bitch, she know I beez in the trap |
| You gotta move out of L.A., I’ll put them Bs on your back |
| And Barbie keep her thumb in your butt |
| That Ken doll love gettin' fucked |
| Hide behind your niggas, you ain’t got the guts |
| Ridin' dirt bikes with your ass on some nuts |
| Now you can pop a wheelie to that! |
| I went from B-more to New York to Philly and back |
| It’s a lot of cheese at stake, this nigga really a rat |
| I fuck with Philly, but this nigga make y’all city look wack |
| And that’s on Piru, yeah, I put the P on that hat |
| You get hit with the Eagle, roll a Philly to that |
| Now tell the world how you got your bitch |
| You FaceTimed Nicki while Safaree was fuckin' a chick |
| You ain’t shit but a rat to me, a snake that don’t rattle me |
| Lil' homie won’t scrap with me, time to body his faculty |
| I’m in traffic, B, bumpin' this old Cassidy |
| Meesha’s another casualty, fuckin' with me’s a tragedy |
| The louder your scream, the wacker the verse |
| I put that dick chaser logo on the back of your hearse |
| They say the meek shall inherit the Earth |
| So I went and dug your ass up, 'cause Drizzy buried you first |
| And why you tryna pick on Wale? |
| You told me that you don’t fuck with Rozay |
| And YG can’t give you a pass |
| I add 20 to your 40s, put the 60s on your ass |
| And don’t try to whine to the Grapes |
| You not the Rams, don’t come back to L. A |
| I fuck around and catch an Uber to Slay |
| I’m a drama king, and a street sweeper with a K |
| Nigga, this is 2Pac mixed with the old Guwop |
| 15 years, 30 mil', nigga, who flopped? |
| One good song, but you ain’t got a classic yet |
| Bought your first album, ain’t took it out the plastic yet |
| Move from Philly to L.A. and think he Fresh Prince |
| Sean Kingston got robbed and now you niggas best friends |
| Fat sloppy Twinkie eatin' ass nigga |
| You ain’t got no pass, nigga, I’ma beat your ass, nigga |
| Jelly bean smugglin' fuck-ass nigga |
| I’ll get some clippers and cut your mama’s mustache, nigga |
| Fuck your sister while you watch 'cause she’s kinda thick |
| And make that bitch take a knee, like Colin Kaepernick |
| Now back to Squeak Milly, Meeky Mouse |
| You gon' fuck around, get tied up inside Nicki house |
| I got esés on Beaumont, posted like Cousins |
| Waiting for the word to pump it up, like Joe Buddens |
| Thou shall not fuck with Chuck, pawns are stuck |
| Fold you up in boxes; |
| Armani tux |
| Louie sweats, armor tucked |
| Night night, use that pillow like a silencer, from dawn to dusk |
| Get at me, you niggas gon' see me in gloves |
| Or see me in clubs with «Summer Sixteen» in the snub |
| Lying on the Internet like you ain’t talking to twelve |
| Got the cops at my door, like they dropping off mail |
| I seen that fake paperwork on XXL |
| Rat niggas chew through walls and leave you in cells |
| Before you see me in jail, you will see me in hell |
| You went and got the whole Philly, it’s just me by myself |
| I could have went and got Kendrick, went and got Snoop |
| Went and got Nipsey, Jay Rock, ScHoolboy Q |
| Could have went and got E-40, brought Ice Cube back |
| And have Dr. Dre screaming «Meek Mill is a rat» |
| It’s a wrap, red khakis, red Cincinnati |
| I’ma see you in the streets, don’t at me |
| You like a boat with a hole you can’t sail |
| Meek Mill, me and Drake gave you them two Ls |
| (Ooouuu, Ooouuu, Ooouuu) |
| When these rats start snitching, break 'em off! |
| (Ooouuu, Ooouuu, Ooouuu) |
| When these rats start snitching, break 'em off! |
| Pussy nigga! |
| (Mumbles) |
| I got on gold headphones, gold chain |
| Gold on my wrist, aim (Mumbles) |
| If you ain’t getting money, boy, you lame |
| You rat bastard! |