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Walkin down the street, in my All Stars
 In my, khaki suit, doin what I do
 Walkin down the street, smokin, chronic
 In my black locs, lookin, AT you
 
 [The Game]
 Guess who's back on the West coast tracks
 It's the motherfuckin messiah of gangsta rap
 Still dip in the six-fo', still puffin on the same chronic
 Haters mad cause I still got it
 I never fall off, even without the Doc
 You niggaz sellin your soul tryin to stay on top
 Bitch nigga check your Kotex, you niggaz ain't movin shit
 Like the hand on a fake-ass Rolex
 I'm five million sold, the cover of my last album
 The only time you see me sittin on gold
 I'm the most anticipated, most celebrated
 Most loved and the motherfuckin most hated
 Keep rollin like gold Daytons
 Niggaz got the game fucked up like Hennessy with a Coke chaser
 You gotta deal with me, I'm the West coast saviour
 Niggaz think of me everytime they six-fo' scraper
 
 What do you call a nigga who's overbearin
 Belligerent, foul, defiant and very disrespectful
 You call that nigga the Doctor's Advocate
 He's a reflection of Dr. Dre in his heyday in the worst way
 The five star surgeon general
 Took Jayceon to the Aftermath research department
 And gave him a blood test
 It came back G-A-M-E positive
 The nigga's infected with the Game virus
 His oratorical skills are so impeccable
 That niggaz in the streets call him Cyrus
 The young don who is down with violence
 Cause in his heart he's a tyrant
 It's not a game, it's just called The Game
 There'll be no referees, no halftime reports
 When the game is over, The Game is over
 You can't put a quarter in the machine and get three mo' men
 THAT'S, the end
 
 [The Game]
 I done been to hell and back
 Left for dead, you know who to thank for that
 Finished my second LP without a Dr. Dre track
 You can take my soul but can't take my plaques
 I'm the motherfuckin snare when it touch the beat
 I'm the 808 drum that got you movin your feet
 I'm the heir to the throne after the D-R-E
 Product of my environment, you old-ass niggaz
 Get ready for your early retirement
 Before I let hip-hop burn down I run in the building like a fireman
 Who can outspit me when I'm high off sticky
 Throwin back Patron shots in some creased up dickies
 I'm D.O.C. certified, Ice Cube Lynch'd me
 Snoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked me
 You still with me? Me and my mic
 Can't be seperated like Interscope and - hahaha
 Ohhh shit
 This some good ass motherfuckin weed
 California sticky green!
 This is the aftermath for the Aftermath
 West, coast! 
            
 
HATA BİLDİR
 
 
		
        
        
        
         
         
         
         
        
        
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