The Game - Rolling Stone lyrics
rate me(Verse)
Nigga pull up, hop out the cutlass, tell a nigga fuck this
I ain’t toleratin no fuck shit
Wifey at the halfway house, with a bitch with her ass hanging halfway out
I aint bout no games nigga, that’s my name
Gold grill with a blunt hangin halfway out
Nigga can’t tell me shit unless he got hits and then he can tell me how them hash weigh out
Crib laid out like a pimp here, your bitch there on a bed made out
Nigga talkin that fuck shit, we just spread out
Boy get yo whole motherfuckin hood K’d out
I was born in the CP, Tommy on my lap
If it’s cheese in that hoe you can find me in the trap
But when it’s snap, give a fuck about a rap
Yuck me and Buck back, 7-11 on the crack
See a Cadillac? Get the fuck up outta there
Grand Theft Auto on a bitch ass nigga
Getting 3 up, bring a truck up outta that
Then pop bottles, let me hit that nigga
Roll blunts the size of this mack
I’m in love with the kush, ain’t givin that back, trill nigga
Smoke til my lungs collapse
Pass out with a 5th of that cognac
Real niggas gon recognize this G shit
Don’t come at me with no peace shit
That peace shit, that was ‘89
I get yo ass hit with 89’s
Motherfucker fore the cops get down, nigga J’s comin off
Drive off with the K’s runnin off
Fly home, tuck my sons into bed
Kiss my daughter on the head and leave a note by her motherfuckin bed
Hook:
Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
Papa was a rolling stone, my son
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
(Verse)
Ain’t shit changed with me nigga
Been around the world with the same AK
Same clip with mo bodies on it
Then hook yo hood with this beef shit
Lookin around but nobody want it
Niggas know what’s up with Buck
Get a couple murder cases comin up
Shoot first!
Molly poppin, that’s young niggas
All they really wanna do now is so guns
Movin on and I’m gone
Papa got a brand new home
And I’m not lookin back, I’m just cookin crack
Until I get back where I belong
My bitch leave brains all on my seat
But these niggas’ blood all on my hands
Been ridin up and down these streets
Fuckin as many niggas I can
Shotgun shell still in my leg
Got a few racks still on my head
Gotta stay strapped now, they handicapped now
Fuck niggas who’s stealin my bread
Had to buy a graveyard for just trappers
Ain’t got a funeral home for you rappers
Know I can play the role with you actors
When we gon get enough to come after
Now send it nigga, I’m going Kendrick nigga
You can start the shit but I’mma end it nigga
If you getting money better spend it nigga
This real life, no pretending nigga
Back at it again, fresh out the pen
Remember back then? They had to let me in
And yall niggas talkin bout cashin out
I need a trash bag to put the cash in
Hook:
Papa was a rollin stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
Papa was a rollin’ stone, my son
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
(Verse)
They told me papa was a rolling stone
Like Mick Jagger keep bitches round they whips, Charlie hold it holmes
You ain’t a poet cus you wrote a poem
I am lyrically until these spirits really higher on the totem pole
I get the cheese, cheddar mozzarella
American, moderate, jack, swizz, feta, mars the prevalone
I bring a nigga down limb by limb
Blood sweat tears molecules flesh then show my chromosomes
Jim star, raise it fo yo dome
With a hole in yo face shot just like Macaulay Culkin Home Alone
Tote the chrome and spark blast with a dark mask, tryna pop trash, blowin at yo motor home
I’m on LeBron, catch you bitchin on my block
I’mma knock it out the park
Babe Ruth, go and throw it go
I grab his bones squeeze 3, brought him like DD, you PC no ET in fully home
Guantanamo… all of yall fucked up
Young Buck, roll em holmes
Have a glass of murda, have em grab the burner
I’m so nice, can see these rappers cry so loaners
My way fowl, don’t convert you have a jazz converter
You need bigger hard drives, I’mma crash yo server
I was raised with the killers in a class of burglars
I’ve been the truth in the booth go and ask the jugger
This is annihilation, you niggas violatin, won’t die hatin, getting shots like immunization
I’m sendin vibrations that could shake a wise nation
And if the devil was a liar then you gon die satan
You ever disrespect my brother soldiers
You gon see a bunch of Rolls with tints, throw em in the cellar
Blood on my hands so blood money low
You got blood on yo hands cus you a cutthroat
Hook:
Papa was a rollin stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
Papa was a rollin’ stone, my son
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
