Game - 200 Bars And Runnin' Lyrics
[Game Talking]What the ***** is all this noise?He from Cali he can't rapHe ain't better than this niggaThat's my favorite artist***** y'all hear the breakdown[Verse 1: The Game]No detox I'm comfortable dogLike the solo Reeboks right up under me dogAnd it feel like I done it beforeSit in the throne pollutin the airwaves like a hummer exhaustDon't let Makavelli fool you homey thuggin it costsPour out a little liquor for the loved ones that we lostYou ain't gotta wait for the album I don't ***** with The SourceBut I turn up my Eazy-E and let it bump in the PorscheI mean turn up my B.I.G. and let it bump in the PorscheTell 'em to roll red carpet when he come in New YorkHip-hop police on me think they runnin New YorkTill I lace my and1 show 'em how to run in New YorkThey tryin to take me downtown put me under the courtCuz Joe Buddens told 'em I carry a gun New YorkAnd homey that's strictly fact he got ripped on waxSo he snitched just to get me backNo matter what you say dog your shit be whackYou better watch what you say it might get you clappedHere's a little advice homey switch your rapsCuz that shit on your last album ain't get you plat'sWhat nigga you need a gun? I'll get you thatP-89 nigga let Dre stitch you back??? Industry niggaz I'll admit to thatBut I don't even want your chain I'll let the Crips do that12 bars for that ***** he won't live through thatEven a nigga with a ten-year bid knew thatPut a gun in his mouth yeah, yeah do thatHe a ***** (sniff, sniff) his own kid knew thatI'm +Ready To Die+ B.I.G knew thatHe ain't eatin look at his white tee you could see his ribs through thatYou *****sucker let your ears do thatOr ride later do me ooh wee now back to rap2 Lincoln continentals sittin back to backLeavin Jersey City naw nigga HackensackWhere's that somewhere where the crackers atReal far from where the roaches and rats is atCome to Compton I'll show you where the racquet's atDown the street from the staples centers where they hack-a-shackGive the advance money back I am not have to rapBreak Harry-O out tell him crack is backThat's nine five a bird take half of thatImport it, export it in cracker jacksWhen you get to the projects ask for BlackYou know what you started with give him half of thatHe gon give you 50 g's in a plastic sackAnd i'mma gives you 3500 cash for thatGotta keep your mouth closed or i'mma blast the MackThey won't believe you the whole world know that bastard rapOnce you outta the throne you can't have it backRetirement home and ain't nothing after thatExcept you layin in a casket blackSuit on you can't go to heaven with timberland boots onNo subliminals I ain't talkin to you ShawnI'm talkin to that heartless mouse with no jewels onWho the ***** put you onFaggot ass nigga let men toss his salad like croutonsI ***** with Fab get my DJ Clue onSit inside Hot 97 with no tools onAnd it don't matter is it's Sway or KaySlayAngie Martinez I'll take 'em back to k-dayThey act like they forgot about Dre-dayI don't rap for Free that's why they fired AJIt's me leaking through your stereoEnvy me is a emcee prepare for your burialI kill niggaz without lettin the Desert blowRazor tongue and I'm far from Haitian sonAll black like the range rover wheelsniggaz whisper around The Game like The Game won't killLet me show you the stars take you back to the carRewind time march 3, 1994I was only in my teen's deuce-deuce in my Levi'sWhen Nas hit the scene I was still rockin knee-highsRunnin with my brother phase he was seventeenTwo guns in the upper waist so we hit the blockSaw niggaz from a rival gang bumpin DreRan up on the '64 and that's all she wroteWe runnin through the alley like Bishop chasin ? AssFirst murder and I did that without a maskFast-forward see Game gettin out a JagTwo peeps shoot on he still got his ragGangbangin forever he still got his swagLet me catch you in Los Angeles without a passEverybody in New York know that you a fagCome out the closet show the world how to use a padSpeakin death on my red bandanaNaw he couldn't have said that so I raised my antennasLook at my Nextel got a call from SantanaThat nigga a ***** we just saw him in AtlantaSo I hopped on the first thing smokin to AtlantaPulled up at 112 ran up on that black phantomSecurity hopped out no Joe in hereJust Outkast gettin ready for a show in hereSo I un*****ed the .44 hopped in the cherry 'lo-loChrome grill with the G-Unit logoWe watched Hov go now the world waitin for my soloI'm the man Stat Quo knowI ain't gotta explain even Bo knowHave of these rap niggaz is faker than rolls goldGet hit in the face with the back of the .44And pissed on tryin to play The Game with a broke noseMy ***** harder than you yeah Vita locoI haven't sold one record got rap in a chokeholdI'm Dre certified like the leader of the bandRun up you sure to die I'll leave you where you standSmurf-ette runnin around New York like he the manBut he peed in his pantsWhen he saw us at Summer JamLucky I wasn't there I had to bury my manOr I would've terrorized New York like the Son Of SamWhat you mean terrorize New York?I mean expose these ***** ass niggaz like I'm Too ShortSomebody tell Domination I'll leave 'em in partsleg in Jersey, arm in Brooklyn, head buried in Central ParkHe can't walk through New York no more like john StorchGotta call cuz i'mma break his ankles like Hot-SauceAsk niggaz from your hood I'm thorough like 5 boroughsSit on any stoop ? In the thermoWait till Alpo come homeLike AZ from Harlem Dre gon pay me regardlessCuz he know Jay-Z departedAnd these other rap labels know don't feed they artistsTalkin blueprint shit you got three garagesGettin money off Roc like little E and carterShowin off your little chain like these is flawlessSend him 50 cent a day I can see he starvinI got R&B *****es givin me ménage'sDeep massages I could hear Eazy talkinTellin me to have a seat in Tamika's officeBuy Ruthless and get Lil' E involved inPromote without that magazine in BostonTake a couple mil make Beans a offerGive him money we don't see that oftenBut it was all a dream like I seen Memph Bleek in MarcyI ain't say you won't see Bleek in MarcyI said my said he won't see Bleek in MarcyI'm from Compton where niggaz used to bleed for barkliesDrive lo-lo's and we ain't need keys to start 'emJust a little information for your summer vacationBring your chain cuz every nigga in L.A. waitinMad cuz Detroit beat the shit out the LakersAnd they'll kill you cuz Joe can't find Gary PaytonMeanwhile the throne vacant and Da Band ain't makin itShyne got a new deal, Def Jam gotta pay usRay Roy Jones got knocked out shortly after they weighed him inniggaz got beef with G-Unit but ain't sayin shitQuiet as a church on TuesdaysNiggaz say they hate my music but my alerts only two waysNigga I'm a hazard like Michael Jackson in khakisTouch kids but I do that with a semi-automaticWith or without traffic I pull my shit out and blast itI'm blind to the masses like Stevie wonder without glassesI'm a savage spit murder like a .38 Magnum16 bars of baggum let the hook toe tag 'emMurder any MC throw 'em in that white wagonLet him die and come back look at 'em he white flagginSpreadin rumors like when I see Game I might jack 'emI'm tellin the world he reach for my chain I might clap 'emCuz niggaz shot me in 2001Took one in the heart cuz I was too proud to runThe clip was empty when the police found my gunSo I don't bring that gangbangin shit around my sonNigga 50 took 9 he know how it feelAnd I found out Buck got shot up in CaShvilleAnd Sha Money told me Lloyd Banks got hitAnd Yayo just came home G-G-G-UnitBackstage at a D-12 concertA fan asked me how it feel to be walkin in Snoop's converseNiggaz show me love when they see me in the streetsBut they frown when I don't wanna hear none of they beatsNigga this shit crazyEm said some shit when was 16 now they tryin to warn Slim ShadyI forgive him I got problems of my ownHow you think the streets gon' act know that Suge homeThese niggaz is birds I can see the feathers on 'emIf Doc give me the word I put this Berretta on himWhen the beef is on my piece is onThem white sheets is on 'em Doc breathin on 'emAnd I got an extra clip in my ReeboksCuz I'm in and out my socks every time I see copsGame got the streets locked call 9-1-1Get the whole *****in LAPD shotNiggaz snitchin to the street copsGet your nephews and your niece shotWith my heat *****ed in the beach stopNigga witta attitude like a heard Dr. Dre doin DetoxNiggaz fightin for the throne that ain't shitTryin to measure the fallin legends but the shoe won't fitNiggaz might think I'm ridin dickCuz I let the cemetery puttin creases in my G-Unit'sTryin to talk Jesus Christ into lettin me dig 'em upSo they could stand side by side again and live it upThis might be the last time you hear me biggin 'em upWith suicidal thoughts bangin me and my ***** in the truckMy conscience tellin me if I put the clip in the buckIt might be loud enough to wake B.I.G and them upWhat if that was P. Diddy sittin in the truckAnd 2Pac was in jail the day you called to hit him upI wouldn't be outside 40/40 bumpin 'Jigga What'Wouldn't be sign to Dr. Dre I wonder is its luckThey got me on MTV with Banks, Fifth, and BuckI ain't tryin to be L.A.'s king he carry a pimp cup[The Game talking]Snoop Dogg got the crown niggaWhat the ***** y'all mad at me forI ain't sold one *****in recordI'm just tryin to use these 200 bars to feed my family niggaI ain't no threatI can't rap I'm from Compton rememberYou gotta be out your mother*****in mindAsk KaySlay, ask Clue, ask Whoo Kid, ask Funk FlexI'll murder anyone of you mother*****inG-G-G-G-UnitAh!
