Lyrics The Documentary - The Game

The Documentary

What happened in hip hop
That got pac and big shot
The thicks blocks
Now every rapper claim
He let his clique pop
But even myself told the gun
To know the run then get shot
Ive been there before
Now im fuckin with doc
(Gotta do the cala-rodas numbers)
If not i push rocks
Intisipatin my encarceration
Media think im fakin like mason
But when it comes to mase
Fuck r kelly i dont take it in the face
I find out who sprayed it And im putting you under the pavement
No buddhist priest, catholic, or babtist pastor can save him
Im far from religious
But i got beliefs, so i put
Cannary yellow diamonds
On my jesus peace
I came back from the dead
Without a part of my chest
Layed in a hospital bed on cardiac arrest
I waited for 3 years
While everyone else dropped
Now i understand why NAS
Did a song with his pop
Im ready to die
Without a reasonable doubt
Smoke chronic and hit it Doggy style before i go out
Until they sign my death certificate
All eyez on me Im still at it, illmatic
And thats THE DOCUMENTARY
If i die my niggas, fuck it I did a song with Mary Blige, my niggas
Got a hook from faith
No verse from Jay
I guess on westside story
He thought i spit in his face
I told am lovin only luv
I was talkin to Ja With that mayback line
It was payback time
Keep fuckin with me nigga
Ill put you under me Take your car and trade it in For eight 3 hundred C’s
If you cross my T I dodge your (?)
You’d do life in a cementary
Ill do mine with sean
Come home sit in the thrown
With my legs crossed
And my air force
Middle finget rough
Fuck the world
Cause im fellin like puff
When life after death hit
Mo’money, mo’problems
And i lost my best friend
Im the second dopest nigga
From compton u’ll ever hear
The first nigga only put out albums
Every 7 years (haha)
(You know what speakin of Jay
That just makes me roll down
Now your song westside story)
Ohh Ohh
(You got a line that says
Dont wear throwbacks
Or drive, ride in maybacks,
Is that a shot at Jay?)
Naa, i was talkin about Ja Rule
Yeah, So, Yeah, i got a lot of Respect for Jay
You know what im saying
I never take shots at legends
Thats just something i dont do Let me tell you why i do this shit
Im a son of a gun
Cause moms was a hoover crip
First day i got signed
I had to prove i spit
Freestyle with Busta Rhymes
(son you can sing)
Told to Jay and Doc Dre.
I could finally put the shoes on Now that the room was a rock cave
The q gone
They say truth hurts
Chunk, like quick sand
Dont stop me in traffic
And ask about hitman
I gotta restore the feelin
It crawled from under the rock
After the dog pound
Crushed the buildings
I got a family to feed
Im the middle of 9 children
We can talk about a loan
After i sell 5 million
If i tell you i aint game
And i dont know Dre.
You gonn do me like x-zibit
And cut half of my face?
I take all the credit
For putting the west
Back on the map
If you aint feelin that
Go sign Gorilla Black!!!
(DOCUMENTARY)