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 »   200 Bars and Running lyrics   [13 visits]
   200 Bars and Running lyrics   13 visits]


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273b

The Game talking]

What the fuck is all this noise?

He from Cali he can't rap

He ain't better than this nigga

That's my favorite artist

Fuck y'all hear the breakdown



[Verse 1: The Game]

No detox I'm comfortable dog

Like the solo Reeboks right up under me dog

And it feel like I done it before

Sit in the throne pollutin the airwaves like a hummer exhaust

Don't let Makavelli fool you homey thuggin it costs

Pour out a little liquor for the loved ones that we lost

You ain't gotta wait for the album I don't fuck with The Source

But I turn up my Eazy-E and let it bump in the Porsche

I mean turn up my B.I.G. and let it bump in the Porsche

Tell 'em to roll red carpet when he come in New York

Hip-hop police on me think they runnin New York

Till I lace my and1 show 'em how to run in New York

They tryin to take me downtown put me under the court

Cuz Joe Buddens told 'em I carry a gun in New York

And homey that's strictly fact he got ripped on wax

So he snitched just to get me back

No matter what you say dog your shit be whack

You better watch what you say it might get you clapped

Here's a little advice homey switch your raps

Cuz that shit on your last album ain't get you plat's

What nigga you need a gun? I'll get you that

P-89 nigga let Dre stitch you back

??? Industry niggaz I'll admit to that

But I don't even want your chain I'll let the Crips do that

12 bars for that bitch he won't live through that

Even a nigga with a ten-year bid knew that

Put a gun in his mouth yeah, yeah do that

He a pussy (sniff, sniff) his own kid knew that

I'm Ready To Die B.I.G knew that

He ain't eatin look at his white tee you could see his ribs through that

You cocksucker let your ears do that

Or ride later do me ooh wee now back to rap

2 Lincoln continentals sittin back to back

Leavin Jersey City naw nigga Hackensack

Where's that somewhere where the crackers at

Real far from where the roaches and rats is at

Come to Compton I'll show you where the racquet's at

Down the street from the staples centers where they hack-a-shack

Give the advance money back I am not have to rap

Break Harry-O out tell him crack is back

That's nine five a bird take half of that

Import it, export it in cracker jacks

When you get to the projects ask for Black

You know what you started with give him half of that

He gon give you 50 g's in a plastic sack

And I'mma gives you 3500 cash for that

Gotta keep your mouth closed or I'mma blast the Mack

They won't believe you the whole world know that bastard rap

Once you outta the throne you can't have it back

Retirement home and ain't nothing after that

Except you layin in a casket black

Suit on you can't go to heaven with timberland boots on

No subliminals I ain't talkin to you Shawn

I'm talkin to that heartless mouse with no jewels on

Who the fuck put you on

Faggot ass nigga let men toss his salad like croutons

I fuck with Fab get my DJ Clue on

Sit inside Hot 97 with no tools on

And it don't matter is it's Sway or KaySlay

Angie Martinez I'll take 'em back to k-day

They act like they forgot about Dre-day

I don't rap for Free that's why they fired AJ

It's me leaking through your stereo

Envy me is a emcee prepare for your burial

I kill niggaz without lettin the Desert blow

Razor tongue and I'm far from Haitian son

All black like the range rover wheels

niggaz whisper around The Game like The Game won't kill

Let me show you the stars take you back to the car

Rewind time march 3, 1994

I was only in my teen's deuce-deuce in my Levi's

When Nas hit the scene I was still rockin knee-highs

Runnin with my brother phase he was seventeen

Two guns in the upper waist so we hit the block

Saw niggaz from a rival gang bumpin Dre

Ran up on the '64 and that's all she wrote

We runnin through the alley like Bishop chasin ? Ass

First murder and I did that without a mask

Fast-forward see Game gettin out a Jag

Two peeps shoot on he still got his rag

Gangbangin forever he still got his swag

Let me catch you in Los Angeles without a pass

Everybody in New York know that you a fag

Come out the closet show the world how to use a pad

Speakin death on my red bandana

Naw he couldn't have said that so I raised my antennas

Look at my Nextel got a call from Santana

That nigga a pussy we just saw him in Atlanta

So I hopped on the first thing smokin to Atlanta

Pulled up at 112 ran up on that black phantom

Security hopped out no Joe in here

Just Outkast gettin ready for a show in here

So I uncocked the .44 hopped in the cherry 'lo-lo

Chrome grill with the G-Unit logo

We watched Hov go now the world waitin for my solo

I'm the man Stat Quo know

I ain't gotta explain even Bo know

Have of these rap niggaz is faker than rolls gold

Get hit in the face with the back of the .44

And pissed on tryin to play The Game with a broke nose

My bitch harder than you yeah Vita loco

I haven't sold one record got rap in a chokehold

I'm Dre certified like the leader of the band

Run up you sure to die I'll leave you where you stand

Smurf-ette runnin around New York like he the man

But he peed in his pants

When he saw us at Summer Jam

Lucky I wasn't there I had to bury my man

Or I would've terrorized New York like the Son Of Sam

What you mean terrorize New York?

I mean expose these pussy ass niggaz like I'm Too Short

Somebody tell Domination I'll leave 'em in parts

leg in Jersey, arm in Brooklyn, head buried in Central Park

He can't walk through New York no more like john Storch

Gotta call cuz i'mma break his ankles like Hot-Sauce

Ask niggaz from your hood I'm thorough like 5 boroughs

Sit on any stoop ? In the thermo

Wait till Alpo come home

Like AZ from Harlem Dre gon pay me regardless

Cuz he know Jay-Z departed

And these other rap labels know don't feed they artists

Talkin blueprint shit you got three garages

Gettin money off Roc like little E and carter

Showin off your little chain like these is flawless

Send him 50 cent a day I can see he starvin

I got R&B bitches givin me m
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