Ali Bomaye

The Game

Album Jesus Piece

Intro: Game

Get my people out them chains, nigga
I mean handcuffs, time to man up
Put my hands up? Fuck you sayin’, bruh?
‘Cause I’m a black man in a Phantom
Or is it ’cause my windows tinted?
Car cost 300 thou’ and I blow Indo in it
You mad ’cause your daughter fuck with me on spring break
Well, I’ma fuck her till the springs break

Verse 1: 2 Chainz

Yeah, roll another one ’cause I’m winnin’
In my four-door, lookin’ real photogenic
Gentleman attire, in threads that won’t expire
I’m in a class of my own, my teacher got fired
Money gettin’ long, pussy rate keep risin’
Versace outfit cost me 3,000
From the P houses, did it from the wee hours
Sellin’ that chicken; no lemon pepper, no sweet and sour
First you get the power, then you get respect
I’m gettin’ so much money I can buy your bitch
Take it how you wanna, if you wanna take it
I like clubs where all the women workin’ naked
Fell in love with a waitress—what the fuck I’m thinkin’?
Bought that ho a ring, it was for her pinky
Uhn, that’s pimpin’, that’s slick
Got a bottle of cologne that cost more than your rent

Verse 2: Game

Fuck y’all mad at me for? Got a black card and a black Phantom
With a white bitch in Idaho, I do the same thing in (Montana)
Got a thick bitch in Atlanta, got a redbone in the Chi
Got two chains, they two-tone, two hundred racks, no lie

Chorus 1: Game

Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
I’m ’bout to rumble in the jungle in these new Kanye’s
Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
My lawyer threw them gloves on and beat another case

Verse 3: Game

Fuck y’all mad at me for, ’cause my belt got two G’s on it?
Her bag got two C’s on it? My daughter’s stroller got D’s on it?
Free Big Meech, free Boosie and C-Murder
Like New Orleans, like Baltimore, come to Compton you’ll see murders
And my AR see murders, that’s beef, nigga; no burgers
I’m insane and you Usain, nigga better turn on them burners
Got coke swimmin’ in that glass jar, bitch, go turn on them burners!
Got dope to sell in this hotel, no half price, no retail
You a bitch nigga; no female, I smack niggas; Sprewell
I’m on the block like D12, I got the white; no D-12
Like a little nigga in Africa, I was born totin’ that K
And that’s real shit, no Will Smith and no Nona Gaye
But they yellin’…

Chorus 2: Game

Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
Thank God that a nigga seen another day
Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
Got a chopper and a bottle—fuck it, let ’em spray!

Verse 4: Rick Ross

I take my case to trial, hire the Dream Team
Robbie Kardashian, Johnnie Cochran; I seen things
I dream big, I think sharp
Inhale smoke, Hawaiian tree bark
Humble yourself, you not a G, keep it one with yourself
Run to niggas for help, favors I keep one on the shelf
I got rifles with lasers, swing it just like the majors
Hit you right above navel
Now you swimmin’ in pavement
Gold medals on my neck, I call it Michael Phelps
Hoes settlin’ for less, I call ’em bottom shelf
Niggas tough on them blogs and never did nothin’ at all
On the road to the riches, bitches not taggin’ along

Verse 5: Game

Unless it’s ass in a thong, hit that ass and I’m gone
Disrespect my nigga Boss and I’m flashin’ the chrome
I’m wavin’ the TEC, Tity sprayin’ the MAC
Extendos in the back, gonna lap
I got a bitch that look like Laila Ali sittin’ in my lap
Got a call from Skateboard, pick ’em up at LAX
Speakin’ skateboards, where Tune at? Fuck with him
I’ll break a skateboard on a nigga back, 2 Chainz!

Verse 6: 2 Chainz

Skateboard on a nigga track
No lie, “No Lie” already got a plaque
Mama got a house, daughter got accounts
Just to think a nigga like me started with a ounce
Bad bitches and D-boys, we bring ’em out
If them niggas pussy, we douche ’em, we clean ’em out
This the voice of ghetto intelligence. If you got work
Go to work, don’t work at your residence

Verse 7: Game

…For presidents
Word to Muhammad, that triple beam is heaven-sent
Ridin’ through the jungles in that mothafuckin’ elephant
That’s a gray Ghost, with the ears on it
Swimmin’ through the hood like it got fins on it (Tell ’em!)
You know I got that work on the foreman grill
Weigh the mothafuckas in, made another mil
Got a nigga feelin’ like Cassius Clay
Thrilla in Manilla, nigga want it, whip his ass today

Chorus 2: Game

Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
Thank God that a nigga seen another day
Ali Bomaye! Ali Bomaye!
Got a chopper and a bottle—fuck it, let ’em spray!

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