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the game - still me lyrics

(feat. ikay & mya)

[intro – ikay]
yow! a weh di f-ck do dem?
black wallstreet, cry nation,
yeah!
from kingston to compton… ha ha,
yow game! weh yuh deh pon?
warminister!
ha ha… dem fi know,
yeah!
game! f-ck wid dem.

[verse 1 – the game]
straight outta the motherf-ckin p-ssy hallway in the projects,
to park in a four door bentley on my set,
same hood, same motherf-ckin steps i sat on and took the plastic off of “life after death”,
bangin, boning biggie biggie i did a 360,
the aftermath for that is the n-gg- 50 ain’t wit me,
no hard feelings, we both made millions,
you can hate me or love me but n-gg- i spit real sh-t,
like i’m comatose, tell the doc i’m sick,
before “detox”, let me take my last chronic hit.
now i am gangsta rap,
inhale the weed smoke and coughed up five platinum plaques,
so i’m a let the n-gg- dr. dre hit,
next time i have dreams of f-ckin an r&b b-tch,
i don’t make love, i make hits,
i put a condom on and stuff my d-ck in this hip hop sh-t.

[chorus – mya]
feels good…
gangsta…
still hood…
gangsta.

[verse 2 – the game]
i’m that six figure n-gg-,
who got the word from krs-one and stole the blueprint from jigga,
n-gg-z yellin game did this, game did that,
game ain’t do sh-t but bring the motherf-ckin west coast back,
i hear the whisperin goin on in the hood,
i sent a motherf-ckin hallmark card to suge,
that n-gg- know that we all good,
so you can catch a cab to h-ll wit them death threats i’m already dead,
i put the .38 revolver to my own f-ckin head,
before i let the sh-t eat my conscience,
ain’t a n-gg- in the world could tell me i can’t come thru compton,
before i retire my converse, i’ll ride the train thru nyc with the terrorist bombers,
somebody tell my mama i’m crazy,
poppa was a rolling stone so that makes me a crack baby,
i’m in rehab three times a week,
because i’m a motherf-ckin fiend for a dr. dre beat.

[chorus – mya]
feels good…
gangsta…
still hood…
gangsta.

[verse 3 – ikay]
uh, yea! uh,
it’s da motherf-ckin i dot,
jamaica on my back,
ten pounds of weed on my block,
cops coming, hide that,
i’m so f-ckin blessed,
straight off da river, so f-cking fresh,
heyy!
mi got mi chopper pon mi,
p-ssyhole! suck yuh mother, tek yuh eyes off mi rapper money,
got respect fi di shottas only,
stick to the streets like cheese to macaroni,
a weh di f-ck do dem,
five shots, a duppy dem,
glock innah mi hand, mi a go fi dem,
big dog never scared ah di puppy dem,
i got no love fi dem,
got slugs fi dem,
i be on some street sh-t,
weed in my eyes so i can’t see sh-t,
be on some g sh-t,
let dem n-gg-z talk, run up on you wit da hawk and squeeze clips,
they wanna know where da n-gg- from,
kingston jamaica got dem n-gg-z bombed,
i’m never wrong,
i am the the street motherf-ckas, here i am.

[chorus – mya]
feels good…
gangsta…
still hood…
gangsta.

- the game lyrics

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