The Game

The Game - Compton 2 Filimoe lyrics

rate me

(feat. JT the Bigga Figga)

[Chorus: The Game + JT]

Compton to Fillmore here we go again

In the Bay, our chains hang, L.A. they can't bang

Compton to Fillmore here we go again

In L.A. they havin problems, the Bay we pop collars

Compton to Fillmore here we go again

In the Bay we pop hollows, L.A. they pop hollows

Compton to Fillmore here we go again

In the Bay we pop bottles, L.A. they pop bottles

[JT the Bigga Figga]

They can't cop what the bricks'll cost

But we stay in the lane to maintain in the 6 to floss

Leather gloves with the tips to toss

But the money was made from conversation had to clip the boss

Smash down at the V.I.P.

Street smarts is crucial for young niggaz in the CX-3

Drop Jag with the price to pay

Cause the bags was heavy my chain swangin like a ice capade

Got the feds lookin twice this way

Cause we shuffle the P's in different places that the {?} name

Compton to Fillmoe man the game is real

When you turn 15 get your stainless steel

Whole squad been trained to kill, we official

And switch to get rich now we after the meals

Hard times got cakes for 3

When it's havin a bundle we break bread for the safe and flee nigga

[Chorus]

[The Game]

I got guns, guns, guns, guns

Guns all over the club

We in V.I.P. strapped, security know that

25 deep, guns up under the throwback

That new R. Kelly shit sound like Bobby Womack

Black Wall Street in HURR, nigga where the hoes at

We got sour diesel, three cases of Hypnotiq

And more guns than the Nickerson Projects

Niggaz don't want beef with me

Cause they know they gotta pay for talkin shit but the sheets is free

And ain't nuttin to shoot the club up

You don't want drama in this motherfucker throw them dubs up

Jacob got the wrists on chill

And N.W.A. chain glow like the memory of Ill Will

Relax your mind and let your drawers feel free

You're now rollin to the sound of the Game and JT

[Chorus]

[JT the Bigga Figga]

But you can't come with the rest of her friends

Cause you know I'm a boss and won't play cause she short on my ends

Make rounds from the back of the Benz

With the {?} that kid with frog eyes with the corners to bend

The things we go through I'm beatin ya brains

Got some homies next do' and I picked up the Game

While they knockin on the do' I get deep in ya dame

Gotta charge you a G just for speakin my name

[The Game]

I'm not eatin your chocha or payin for the coach ma

I'm a pimp like 50, the nigga to leave you broke ma

6 in the mornin, you stretchin on the sofa

Singin "Ain't No Nigga" like Foxy Brown and Hova

I fuck 'em dogstyle with Billys and Novas

With or without chaffeurs, I make 'em fuck the both of us

You know what it is, the gangster's back

And I keep my banger at where my chain hang at

I'm ghetto

[Chorus x2]

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