The Game - Documentary Lyrics
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What happened in hip hop that got Pac and Big shotThe thicks plots, now every rapper claim he let his clique pop But even myself tote a gun and know to run then get shot I've been there before, now I'm *****in' with Doc Gotta do them Calvin Broadus numbers If not I push rocks anticipatin' my incarceration Media think I'm fakin' like Mason but when it comes to mase ***** off, Kelly, I don't take it in the face I find out who sprayed it, I'm puttin' you under the pavement No buddhist, priest, catholic, or baptist pastor can save him I'm far from religious but I got beliefs So I put cannary yellow diamonds in my Jesus piece I came back from the dead without a part of my chest Layed in a hospital bed on cardiac arrest I waited for three years while everybody else dropped Now I understand why Nas did a song with his pops I'm ready to die without a reasonable doubt Smoke chronic and hit it doggy style before I go out Until they sign my death certificate, all eyes on me I'm still at it, illmatic and that's the documentary Ready to die without a reasonable doubt Smoke chronic and hit it doggy style before I go out Until they sign my death certificate, all eyes on me I'm still at it, illmatic and that's the documentary, documentary If I die my niggas, ***** it, I did a song with Mary Blige My niggas got a hook from Faith, no verse from Jay I guess on West Side Story he thought I spit in his face Told Ed Lover and Money Luv I was talkin' to Ja With that mayback line it was payback time Keep *****in' with me nigga I'll put you under me Take your car and trade it in for eight three hundred C's If you cross my T I'll dot your eyes You do life in a cementary I'll do mine with Shyne Come home sit in the thrown with my legs crossed And my air force middle finger up, ***** the world 'Cause I'm feelin' like Puff when 'Life After Death' hit Mo' money, mo' problems and I lost my best friend I'm the second dopest nigga from Compton you'll ever hear The first nigga only put out albums every seven years You know what speakin' of Jay that just makes me roll down Now your song west side story, you got a line that says "Don't wear throwbacks or drive, ride in maybacks" Is that a shot at Jay? Naa, I was talkin' about Ja Rule Yeah, so, yeah, I got a lot of respect for Jay You know what I'm sayin' I never take shots at legends That's just somethin' I don't do Let me tell you why I do this shit I'm a son of a gun, 'cause mom's was a hoover crip First day I got signed I had to prove I spit Freestyle with Busta Rhymes son, Duke is sick The prodigee' of Doc Dre I could finally put the shoes on Now that the rumors of Rakim and Q gone They say truth hurts sunk, like quick sand Don't stop me in traffic and ask about Hitman I gotta restore the feelin' it crawled from under the rock After the dog pound crushed the buildings I got a family to feed, I'm the middle of middle children We can talk about a loan after I sell five million If I tell you I ain't Game and I don't know Dre You gonna do me like X-Zibit and cut half of my face? I take all the credit for puttin' the west back on the map If you ain't feelin' that guess I'm Gorilla Black I'm ready to die without a reasonable doubt Smoke chronic and hit it doggy style before I go out Until they sign my death certificate, all eyes on me I'm still at it, illmatic and that's the documentary Ready to die without a reasonable doubt Smoke chronic and hit it doggy style before I go out Until they sign my death certificate, all eyes on me I'm still at it, illmatic and that's the documentary, documentary
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You are now viewing The Game Documentary Lyrics
