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The Game - Invisible Felon Lyrics

Yeah I be doing this shit when the fuck I want to, man
Spend all my time with my son. (Yeah)
Got a new baby on the way
A new son, two sons
Yeah, King Justice, Harlem Caron, that's who I do it for

Verse 1:
Nigga I lock the whole block up
Cedar block, what
You can't stop us, or drop us
Long nose snub in the drop, what
We real niggas
Compton blood runners and gunners
The red Raiders, been on hiatus
Made it back for the summer
Fuck rap! It ain't about that
Hip hop is dead you whack rappers put one in the head
Nas said it, he ain't regret it. I talked to him
Any nigga disagree run up on the passanger side and put a spark to him
Phoney ass rap niggas swear they gon' clap somethin'
Talking out the side of they mouth, with no gat frontin'
As long as I'm alive, this shit don't stop
We know who killed B.I.G. and Pac, he gon' drop

You niggas think you scare me nigga
You don't scare me, B
I'm from Compton motherfucker
Real life, real gangs, real shootouts motherfucker
I took them shots
I see you standing there
So what, bitch? Move!

Verse 2:
I'm the West Don,
The next one, to kick his fucking feet up
Puffing on chiefer,
Niggas give me the chills I pick the heat up
I'm scared of who, you? Fuck naw!
I let this shit blow, circle the block before I duck off
I stayed blunted, stay around pussy, stay lick it up
With the finest bitches, you niggas trickin'
I'm with the Bucks
Like Milwuakee I shoot 'em dead
Left hand like Michael Redd
Recycle the flow, come back, I'm dead Pres.
Too political
Guerilla on mass beats, leave your career in critical, condition
Destroy niggas my mission is to disposition,
All you faggots
I ain't beefing with one nigga, there's room for all you niggas in this casket
Get in!

Ol' homo ass niggas, B
Niggas straight fucking homos nigga
When you see me in the streets nigga, you don't say shit
Niggas don't be doing shit
Whole bunch of niggas man, loud noise makers
Fuck y'all!

Verse 3:
I stand over niggas with a gun
Let it hum
Your crew run, run, run
Your crew, run, run
I stand over niggas with a gun
Let it hum
Your crew run, run, run
Your crew, run, run
I fuck over niggas
Only give props, to them older niggas
Snoop, Cube, Rakim, KRS, the coldest niggas
Can't forget Nasty Nas, and that Hova nigga
Disrespectful tongue, yet they still, I owe them niggas
Pay hommage, spray llamas
Drive Bentleys roll through any hood
You don't believe me then ride with me
I pray on the soul, of any nigga that collide with me
He bust first, I shot back
The moral is you die with me

See nigga I don't really give a fuck about all that shit you be talking about on these punk ass records, nigga
First of all: you don't sell records, nigga
Second of all nigga: you ain't as handsome as me
Third of all: you ain't fucking as many bitches as I'm fucking
Fourth of all: You ain't got enough O.G. motherfucking homies backing you, nigga
Fifth of all: fuck, you!

Thanks to Nano

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