Game - Red Bottom Boss Lyrics
[Verse 1 :Game]I’m about to tear this *****in’ track outPretend it’s Keri Hilson and blow a *****in’ back out22nd mixtape, half of em diss tapesBut ***** who I was dissin’ because I never made a mistakeBleek got what he deserved, Jay, I might have been trippin’I was fallin’, I was slippin’He was Jordan, I thought I was PippenHe was winnin’, I was losin’He threw a jab, I started bruisin’So I threw in the towel just to separate all confusionIvy Blue is beautiful, me sayin’ that’s unusualThat’s the father in me, don’t think I’m tryin’ to be cool with youThug life, Rihanna knuckles, Gucci shirt, designer bucklesLouis Vuitton billboard, the nigga’s boy just tryin’ to hustlePoster boy for them drug dealersI just want you all to love meBut I ain’t handsome, I ain’t trying to bug niggasY’all the Verizon man, I’m just gon’ stand behind y’allBut every now and then, I gotta remind y’all[Verse 2: Game]It’s that red bottom boss, niggaBurgundy Bentley truck, ***** what it cost niggaThat V12 start up like Ross niggaThat’s why them hoes call me the boss niggaCatch me in the Maybach, where them seats recline way backRemember, I had a Rocky for ya, and I ain’t talkin’ ASAPYou know I got that K strap, chopper with the base hatIf you see tip drillin’, King of Diamonds, tell I got like eight stacksAce of Spades by the crates, biatchNever lose, like Alexander the Great, biatchI only win like Baylor, I run the city like mayorsDon’t make me go dig up them old Chuck Taylor’sBack when me and Snoop was the only ones throwin’ up gang signsYa niggas wasn’t bloods until I cosigned y’allBut y’all that Verizon man, I’m just gon’ stand behind y’allAnd sometimes I gotta remind y’all[Verse 3: Game]Taylor Gang nigga, I ain’t Wiz doeI got that yellow brick road inside my ear lobesPlayin’ ice hockey, feelin’ like GretzkyLos Angeles King, and I’m who the whole city cheer forNiggas throwin’ subliminals, act like I don’t hear thoseI could give y’all 100 bars, but you all know y’all fear thoseAnd plus, I’m too attached to my lifestyle***** them Air 1?s, I’m too attached to these spikes nowLouis Vuitton’s, hard as croutonsThey comfortable like futonsThey suede, grey pouponThe yellow like Luke onThe Lakers, he was tradedBut they should have moved that nigga Marion, Gloria move onDamn, was that too strong?These niggas gettin’ pooped onWhile I get my Duke on, and crossover like DuhonLuke warm, I’m too hot, you’re too coldI’m 2Pac, you’re too old for hip hopStop. Recognize…
