Lyrics Bulletproof Diaries - The Game, Raekwon

Bulletproof Diaries

Sit in the chair, yeah, yeah
Uh-huh, yeah
Sit my alligator jacket on the flo'
Let that shit crawl around, whattup Game?
How are you my nigga?
Let’s get this money, you heard?
Money in zipped duffle bags, shotgun shells
My killas gorillas, niggas couldn’t see 'em with gazelles
Fronting ass niggas, go hang with Pharrell
Trying to be a Cowboy, you catch bullets like Terrell
Owens, call it T.O., he leaking like a project sink
Busted open like a hot dog link
(Beef!) it gave me time to think, yeah I did my fucking prison thing
Came out still on point, like the RZA rings
I’m from Compton but my inkpen live in Queens
Rep the dub like Wu-Tang, and I got Killa Bees (respect)
Black Wall Mafia, new millenium Genovese
Got a million dollars say LeBron don’t win a ring (word?)
I know Kobe, I be on the floor, «Kobe!»
You know a nigga that can score 81?
Show me!
I got a Cuban Link to a fuckin O. G
And nigga you’re too close, what the fuck, you trying to blow me?
(back up)
This the face off (respect the don) diamonds all in the charm
(Iced out) Where you be?
(strip club, throwin ones)
Where you from?
(New York, where you from?) Californ'
(Big sharks) Me too (swimming in a pile of ones)
Yeah nigga, tomorrow man
Going to take you to go buy some 18-karat gold golf clubs nigga
In the Bronx
This the face off (respect the dons, hundred thousand on the arms)
Son where you be?
(Under palm trees staying warm)
(Who you be?) Raekwon, who is you?
(Amaz-on)
I’mma keep it (Compton) Staten ('til the day is done)
Geah, fronting on us nigga, it’s like
It’s like racing a nigga in Afghanistan to go get some oil nigga
You gon' fuck around and get your head burnt
I’m a New York dinosaur, Staten Island artifact
Hip-Hop's never dead, the Cuban gave 'em heart attacks
Sleep in the woods, target cats come from under the V’s
Sneeze wrong, course I’m clappin'
Keep it movin' homeboy, the mac’s always actin
Spit in your face, go 'head lil' baby rappers
Can’t fuck with us convicts, Stat-land
It’s like actions, cliques’ll die right with traction
It’s Wall Street money and two gunny’s
Slammers is extra chunky, yeah, me and my red monkeys
Silverback sales are few donkeys, all of us live comfy
Blow your head off like lunch meat
Chef and The Game run the country
Take over the world little girl, better stay out our brunch meetin'
Fuck with they paper they gun squeezin'
Off top, leak from the cop, then nigga jumped, this is front season
Yo, man yo Game man
Let these niggas know man f’real man
We official man
They wan' be reading our autobiographies in a minute, ya heard?
(Yo what if I was from Compton?) What if I was from Staten?
I’d be King Kong knocking down the buildings in Manhattan
(Guerrilla warfare) Shootouts, real block shit
West coast assassin on some real 2Pac shit
My style’s smoking like after a Glock spit
Game get the blood money, fuck bitches and pop Crys'
-tal like it’s New Year’s, cause this a new year
Look at the tracks, either Bigfoot or The Game been through here
The Benjamins won’t stop, and neither would a chrome Glock
I kill a fire-breathing dragon with a dome shot
Come through your hood in a Chevy Malibu, on stocks
We had a meeting before we got here, so shit gon' pop
Heads gon' roll, Patron gon' spill
Fitted caps getting peeled like the chrome on the wheels
Got a half a mil' say your wounds won’t heal
I declare war, nigga who gon' deal?
Yeah, y’all know what time it is man
«Bulletproof Diary» nigga, for real
Many may read this man
A lot of niggas might not make it home, you heard?
We speak for the real ones man, for the churchmen man
All them real general niggas man
All them niggas that’s out there man
Don’t get no rest or none of that man, for real
The Chef nigga, Game whattup baby?
I love you, ya heard?
Super mad love over here for you baby
You know how we do it, we go all over the fucking world man
Get a lot of bread man, word up, hunnid my nigga
We take you to Boca Chica or some’n man, knahmsayin?
Sip on some motherfuckin, Don Julio or some’n, y’knahmsayin?
With two foul rings on, y’knahmsayin?
Couple of mean Guatemalians wit us
Half Guatemala, half Somalian nigga
Niggas ain’t seen them colors man