| Who really the best rapper since 'Pac got killed
|
| I done answered that question when I copped my deal
|
| Ask yourself when the Game is comin, after next summer
|
| I predict my shit’ll drop before the next Howard homecoming
|
| Now who in the runnin, no one, ask the niggas who want it
|
| I got a four-fifth and it just like me, it stay gunnin
|
| Me and my niggas stay blunted fogged up in the 600
|
| Guilty as charged, blunts in the air, guns in the doors
|
| It’s written, Compton niggas never run from the law
|
| Plus we get Monopoly money with hotels and a board
|
| So I’ll never see a jail, and I’m allergic to bars
|
| Can’t sit behind 'em or drink at 'em, so we travel with ours
|
| Poppin Crist' in the 6, like we drivin through Mardi Gras
|
| Thinkin 'bout beads and titties as I roll through the city
|
| And I keep 16 in the clip, and I let 'em all go
|
| Like the Lakers did Ellie, Atty and Nick, huh
|
| When shit get thick, niggas start dyin
|
| Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
|
| Payback come through violent, nigga
|
| We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent, cause
|
| When shit get thick, niggas start dyin
|
| Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin
|
| Payback come through violent, nigga
|
| We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent
|
| No garbage we smoke molta, move big cocoa
|
| We off the train tracks like the great space coaster
|
| We hit real big and consistant like Sam Sosa
|
| Prepare for war, like United States soldiers
|
| Lock tight and rock right like grey eight oz’s
|
| I’ll be hittin up spots, in them flip Range Rovers
|
| Before you even try to play, foolish all over
|
| Empty out yo' pockets, turn everything over
|
| We ball out cursin yeah we keep it the sickest
|
| When we roll by the quads in them Z-66's
|
| Big spittin, grip kitten, that big face greed
|
| Always dirty never clean but we live like kings
|
| Legendary like Sting, it’s a history to follow
|
| But not known for stingin known for gettin off hollows
|
| Shoot me a glass of Remy, nah fuck it the whole bottle
|
| And watch me act bad and take off, full throttle
|
| I’m from a batch where it ain’t no cut, we all in
|
| 36 on a triple beam scale for meal
|
| Duffle bag on my shoulder my route, through the back of the jet
|
| To bag up baguettes and everybody know it
|
| I’m the iceholder makin the cut, never breakin 'em up
|
| My favorite color is rainbowed up
|
| Ain’t a coke dealer, but I got bricks for cheap
|
| Hit the lab for a fo' day block, we got heat
|
| You niggas can’t compete when I walk in the streets
|
| We Get Low, and there’s no idea with the info
|
| It’s a rule of thumb, let them dudes a come
|
| I’m cruisin some, 20 inch shoes and some
|
| I’m in the widebody xm-5, all my snakes is live
|
| We check your five, the spot where the tec dies
|
| And everybody gotta holla the name
|
| It’s jt from the Fillmoe streets to cpt |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song When Shit Get Thick, artist - The Game. Album song Untold Story, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп