a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

the game - let's ride lyrics

[verse 1]
pull the rag off the six-fo’,
hit the switch, show n-gg-s how the sh-t go,
the game is back, the aftermath chain is gone,
the d’s is chrome, the frame is black.
(so watch it lift up)
till the motherf-cker bounce and break,
and knock both of the screws out the licence plate.
let the games begin,
these other rap n-gg-s so far behind me, go taste my rims,
sh-t, let the chronic burn as the datens spin.
it ain’t been this much drama since i first heard eminem,
in the club, poppin’ x pills like m & ms,
call it dre day, we celebratin’, b-tch bring a friend.
bottles on me, tell the waiter to order another round,
and put that cheap–ss hypnotic down.
(put your ‘cris up!)
if you feel the same way,
who got ’em hittin’ switches ny to la

[hook]
(if i could fit the whole hood in the club)
hop in the low-rider, long as you got b-tches in the back,
(i turn it into a strip-club)
call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo’ bounce that -ss,
(if i could fit the whole world in the club)
tell the dj to bang my sh-t, the west-coast in this b-tch
(pop bottles and twist up)
roll up chronic and hash,
in a blunt, call it aftermath

[verse 2]
somebody tell me where the drinks at,
where the b-tches at,
you f-cking on the first night, meet me in the back.
i got a pound of chronic, and a gang of freaks,
move b-tch! who the f-ck you think they came to see?
the protégé of the dre,
you take a picture with him, and you gotta f-ck me,
and you gotta f-ck busta, can’t touch eve,
got something in my waist that you can’t touch either,
that’s – my gangsta b-tch, and like crips and bloods,
i’m in the club on some gangsta sh-t.
(so n-gg- twist up)
light another dub,
b-tches get scared when n-gg-s start fighting in the club.
ain’t nothing but a g-thing, baby it’s a g-thing,
bounce like you got hydraulics in your g-string,
i f-ck a different b-tch seven days a week,
hit the switch, watch it bounce like a scott storch beat.

[verse 3]
n-gg-s thought i wasn’t coming back, look at me now
hoppin’ out the same cherry six-fo’ with the motherf-cking top down,
i’m the game, n-gg-
call your b-tch, she ain’t home, she with game, n-gg-
remember that, dre
you p-ssed me the torch, i lit the chronic with it, now the world is my ashtray,
ridin’ three-wheel motion ’till the -ss scr-pes,
turn sunset into a motherf-cking drag-race.
now watch it bounce,
hit the switch, let it bounce till the police shut the sh-t down.
(when you hit the club)
tell ’em you came with me,
(we gonna twist up)
in the vip
it’s a new day, and if you ever knew dre,
motherf-cker, you would say i was the new dre.
same impala, different spokes
same chronic, just a different smoke.

[hook]
(if i could fit the whole hood in the club)
hop in the low-rider, long as you got b-tches in the back,
(i turn it into a strip-club)
call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo’ bounce that -ss,
(if i could fit the hole world in the club)
tell the dj to bang my sh-t, the west-coast in this b-tch
(pop bottles and twist up)
roll up chronic and hash,
in a blunt, call it aftermath

- the game lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS