Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Too Much , by - The Game. Song from the album Doctor's Advocate, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 31.12.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Geffen
Song language: English
Too Much |
| I’m from the old hood, somethin like yo’hood |
| Where niggaz don’t know good, or know Suge, but the blow good |
| So we rock it like Tracy McGrady |
| Send it to Houston in a gray Mercedes |
| I’m a product of my environment, grew up in the 80's |
| So that mean, me Kanyeezy and Jeezy all crack babies |
| And it’s evident my flow is heaven-sent |
| First LP, on the same shelf as the veterans |
| Nigga I can’t be fucked, like a lesbian |
| I’m to hip-hop what Cartoon is to Mexicans |
| I’m a artist, never claimed to be the hardest |
| Just number one since B.I.G. |
| and 'Pac departed |
| Nate ridin with me, Snoop ridin with me All you other niggaz used to be good like Ken Griffey |
| I’m on fire like the tip of a blunt |
| On fire like a nigga that let it drip for a month |
| I’m a Blood, you can Crip if you want, just let it bump |
| like you got Scott Storch tied up in the trunk |
| I’m the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man |
| Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man |
| Too much Cris’in the club not to get drunk |
| Too many bitches in the world not to fuck |
| Too much chronic in the studio not to roll it up And too much bass in the trunk, so let it bump |
| You look like you mad as fuck, but who cares? |
| Grabbin her by the arm, cause she stare |
| Don’t know how much atten-tion you pay |
| You better be ready to die, in this game |
| I thought I told y’all |
| I’m done with the beef clown, my son three now |
| And I’ve been watchin Dre so long I’m makin beats now |
| Game on the rebound like Ben Wallace in the D-Town |
| I mean Chi-Town, fuck it it can go down |
| Nigga I spit the whole round, fo’plus fo'-pound |
| Nigga this the wild wild West, call it a showdown |
| And I’m Billy the Kid 'til they split my wig |
| I come back from the dead, tell 'em kill me again |
| Put my head on the barrel, dare a nigga to shoot me |
| I’m gangsta, took more shots than Tookie |
| I’m alive, so I’ma take a Patron shot for Tookie |
| Roll a California blunt and keep watchin the movie |
| Inspired by this gangbangin shit since I was two |
| I brought the West coast back, what the fuck you do? |
| I’m the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man |
| Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man |
| Drive fast, both hands on the dash |
| Close both of your eyes and hope that you don’t crash |
| It’s lyrical homicide, both airbags out |
| Roll the fuckin windows down, let the bass out |
| Niggaz — drop the top on whatever in Bitches — let your ponytail blow in the wind |
| Inhale the chronic, blow out dollar signs |
| Nigga you can drive a Bentley if only in your mind |
| Four doors, leather and wood |
| Ride like I got a horse stable under my hood |
| And I keep a chrome fo'-five under my hood |
| So if I die, nigga bury me under my hood |
| Who had the hottest bitch in the game, wearin they chain |
| Mr. H to the Izzo, Nas and Hurricane |
| Long as my family straight, read this at my wake |
| I gave 'em «The Documentary"and they scraped the plate |
| Twenty magazine covers, nigga look at his face |
| I can not, will not ever be replaced |
| I’m the ice cream truck man, guns in the trunk man |
| Drugs in the trunk man, call me the front man |
| He wolfin a lot of shit, he look scared |
| You can’t find your girl, she right here |
| I’m not a bad dream, I’m a nightmare |
| 'Sides there’s way too many hoes in here |