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the game – bad intentions (purp & patron) lyrics

[intro]
hey, yo, let me get some more patrón
cherry c0ke
some motherf-ckin’ zig-zags

[verse 1]
bad intentions, n-gga, f-ckin’ with the wrong one
call dre, tell that n-gga i’m on one
aftermath, n-gga, we blaze cuban cigars
and drive foreign cars, n-gga we stars
f-ck b-tches at our leisure
stuff d-ck inside they throat ’til they have seizures
hoes down, b’s up
roll the trees up, smokey robinson
get high, start trippin’, i like his jewelry, then i’m robbin’ son
f-ck a platinum plaque, n-gga hood with it
bouncin’ that impala down the sh0r- like, “what’s good with it?”
i’m a made man, i wear j’s and
i been around more rocks than a f-ckin’ caveman
i done sold it and bagged it
i done drove it and crashed it
f-cked my credit up smashin’ the aston
f.y.i., n-gga, i got a magnum
only time i been punked was by ashton kutcher
i’m a motherf-ckin’ butcher
leave me around anything white and i’ma cook it
i be all up in the kitchen, no need for an apr-n, playboy
i’m a professional, i’m cakin’, playboy
the last real d-boy in this rap sh-t
chrome 24s with the fat lip, call them sh-ts ras k-ss
rasclart, you f-ckin’ with the bomb squad
dismantle any mc for free, you been warned, god
church, high power
impala sittin’ clean like it took 5 showers
n-gga, i’m the g.a.m.e., so don’t you tempt me
your chest’ll be full and my clip’ll be empty
i’m simply one of the most raw n-ggas in this sh-t
why you think that i got in this sh-t?
paid for my momma house, ’bout 700k
can’t stop smokin’ but i’m down to a blunt a day
yay, i mean yayo
on the block, sun up, sun down, like where the day go?
we come through chargin’, n-gga, like san diego
seventeen chargers, couple of ’em same color but the sh-t is ok though
’cause all my n-ggas on the payroll get caught slippin’ and get a halo
and i ain’t talking ’bout the xbox
n-ggas let the tech knock
welcome to the real-life black ops
where it’s still f-ck the police, white or black cop
and we ain’t k!llin jonny law, n-gga, give ’em an -ss shot
put him on injured reserve
tie my number twelves up and then i give him the bird, word
that’s how i get down, all you rap n-ggas floppin’
who talkin’ sh-t now? only drake and yay worth coppin’
i take a hiatus, spend a little time gamblin’ in vegas
come back to back runnin’ faster than five lakers
so motherf-ck a hater and his family
about to finish the r.e.d. album up in miami
lebron can’t stand me, ’cause i got this purp in my cup
24s on the truck, laker game, n-gga, what?
ballin, jim jones voice, problem with the byrd gang?
see the chrome, boy, and my mother f-ckin homeboys?
but i’m from cali not to be confused with khaled
he say that we the best but i’m the best, that’s valid
and before you try to say that that’s a diss
i was at khaled’s house two days ago, b-tch
sippin’ long island iced teas with a white b-tch
that was just as bad as ice-t’s, but she’s not the wifey
the wife be at home with the kids
look at them and see how a motherf-cker live
24 cars, 5 and a half cribs, i was spendin’ money like goin’ broke was the sh-t
sh-t

- the game lyrics

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