| You can catch five, or catch me in the CL-5
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| Whatever way dog, the Game get live
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| Keepin it gangsta in a P.D. |
| fitted velour
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| Late night I’m in Dublin’s and I got myself a four
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| The hood love me, hoodrats gotta hug me
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| Pop ex, spark the buba, the shit get ugly
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| Rock the mic anywhere, and I ain’t talkin 'bout a concert dog
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| Talkin 'bout ten niggas in converts dog
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| Get it crackin like we out in the yard, and the warden’s watchin
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| Only difference is the whores is watchin
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| Still love to see a nigga, roll up on 20's
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| Hop in that six-four, roll up on Bentley’s like
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| I’m a gangsta bay-bee from the C-P-T
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| Run with the +Pound+ like I’m from DPG
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| If it’s beef, you C-Murder like it ain’t No Limit
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| And I represent the P like Russell Simmons
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| I’m a neighborhood superstar, get it, right
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| Got it? |
| Good, okay
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| It’s the Black Sox and Get Low we get dough
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| In the Yay they pimp hoes, in Compton we six-fo'
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| I’m a shining star
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| And I gotta hit the boulevard in that new Jaguar
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| Why he move through traffic like that, purple haze
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| Ralways, the Ojays, the gangsta lean so
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| Please believe that I keep two G’s in my jeans
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| Two gats in my sleeve, two rats in my Beam'
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| X-5, mami let’s ride
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| Weave in and out of traffic from Compton to Bed-Stuy
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| It’s the kid from the far West I, oh, shit
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| He know how to do more than flip pies
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| Get money like them stick up guys
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| Them «Ocean 11» licks got the young kid rich for life
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| And I talkin 'bout a movie or George Clooney
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| I’m talkin 'bout, runnin in your spots with uzis tucked in the Coogi
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| Dude me? |
| Naw truly, might lose your lives
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| They say I’ve, got 2K2 covered like A. I
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| I know ya, love to watch me, 'specially when I’m lookin rocky
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| The trey with the broccoli with my handles on the Kawasaki
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| Handle my jewels with the cuff in my shoes
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| AD jacket on my elbow, 50 coast the jewels
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| In my neighborhood I’m Young Bill Gates, never shuffle the cake
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| So cover my face, and run up in the place
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| I’m a superstar, dick and my chain, glass bezel and bang
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| 80 karats on my pinky and rang
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| Crews buzz when you speakin my name, cause I’m deep in the game
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| With top cool thangs and million dollar planes
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| I’m a maniac, young boy gone, like a young Roy Jones
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| You ought of my zone and ain’t nobody home
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| In my neighborhood, produce stars, stakes is high
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| Now we soarin through the spacious skies
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| Drop yo' body with them cakes and ride, the handle is up
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| Switchin gears with the pedal and ride |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Game Get Live , by - The Game. Song from the album Untold Story - Part 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп