The Game

Album Purp & Patron: The Hangover


People tryin’
To do what?
To find a way out
Oh yeah, that was me in 2004
Love ain’t around
Ain’t never been around
Look at California
Yeah, that’s right (That’s right)
Every time you look at me (Look at me-look at me)
Look at California
You look at California
I am the West side (West side-West side)
Look at Cali-look at Cali-California

Verse 1

Palm tress, beautiful women
Drop-top Phantom, now this is livin’
Started off choppin’ crack in my Grandma kitchen
But y’all know that, so let’s get down to business
Out of towners beware of what you wear
“Yo, son I’m from New York,” but we don’t care
The Crips, the Bloods, the Eses
The Daytons, the Dubs, the Chefes
What you know about Cali, everything irate
I make the dinner, you be sure to scrape the plate
From Compton’s Most to N.W.A
From Snoop Dogg to Dr. Dre, niggas love us
What about the bitches?
You mean these bitches bouncin’ in my backseat when my Impala hit switches?
They ridin’ with a king, a California king
If it ain’t about that, it ain’t ’bout a mothafuckin’ thing
I’m livin’ the American dream, sittin’ fat but I don’t sing
I don’t fuck with rats if you know what I mean
You thinkin’ 50 but I’m talkin’ Christina Milian
Sucked a million dicks but still ain’t sold a million
Bitch tryna get a rock like a milli on
I know you like, “what this gotta do with L.A.?”
Bitch tried to fuck me and she almost fucked Dre, so


Yeah, slow this shit down, man
I’ma let California fuck you now, yeah
That’s right, yeah, how it feel?
Know California niggas got big dicks, big trucks, big mouths, big guns
We’ll fuck you all night
Straight R&B, Black Wall Street Records we don’t play no games
I mean, after four albums, what the fuck you want from a nigga?
I got the houses here, Miami, condo in New York, condo in Wilshire
I done lived in Beverley Hills
Look down the street at Range Rovers, Bentleys and Phantoms passin’ by
As the wind blows through my fuckin’ fade
Niggas know what it is with me, nigga
California King and that’s for life
Don’t give a fuck what a nigga say

Verse 2

Let me introduce ya to somethin’ you’re not used to
I’m California’s future, sit back, watch what I do to
These Dre beats, these Timbaland tracks
I Just Blaze ’em, I spit crack
I Scott Storch ’em, you can’t afford ’em
Every hot producer seen Game record
My flow out of this world like Neptune
California was dyin’, I came to the rescue
First time Snoop Dogg ever heard me spit
His reply was like, “Damn, nephew”
That was ’05
Now it’s ‘011, four albums, six years, I’m ahead of my time
I let you niggas be LeBron
Even he can’t see Kobe in his prime
Picture Kobe and LeBrons, that’s too much game, I’m outta my mind
That’s a hot line, I think niggas wanna hear me say that one more time
Picture Kobe and LeBrons, that’s too much game I’m outta my mind
Outta my soul
Been havin’ out of body experiences since I was seven years old
Look at California, he ain’t scared
Shot a deuce-five ‘fore he had Nike Airs
My pops like, “There goes the block”, I’m like, “Where?”
Brass knuckles in my Levi’s, never fight fair
Twenty years later, I’m right here
Red rag wipin’ off all white Airs
Let a nigga step on ’em, I’ma go Wyclef on ’em
Could go Raekwon the Chef on ’em
Throwin’ up a dub, bangin’ Wu-Tang
Ridin’ wit’ a chopper like a young Hussein
In a new range
Fuck with the Crips but I’m from the P-I-R-U gang
Momma, I did it, you told me to so I spit it
I don’t just talk Cali, I lived it
From Aftermath to Sick Wit It
I’m sick wit’ it, so, nigga, admit it
You will never be Game, never be Pac, never be Doggy Dogg
I don’t know why you spit ’cause, nigga, you ain’t shit
You writin’ for Detox? Nigga, suck my dick
Me and Hittman did that before
First Mel-Man left and then I seen the trapdoor
Came in through the back, nobody can stop him
Not E-V-E, Busta Rhymes or Rakim
And Bus my nigga, so I would never diss ’em
Fuck over any other rapper with Henny in my system
Who want it? Not Jigga
I’m treacherous like Trigga
I’m Naughty By Nature, nigga
With more priors than Richard
And I can say whatever ’cause I made Jimmy Iovine richer
And he get richer every time I call you a bitch ass nigga
Let Chris Bosch run up on Kobe again
I’ma catch him in the club and open his chin
‘Cause I ride or die for this Cali shit
Break a nigga off proper like a Valley bitch
I chop a nigga down like a brick of raw
I’m Notorious like Biggie Smalls
I know he from New York, but he like me
Last thing I wanna do ‘fore I D-I-E is
Look at-look at-look at California
Look at-look at-look at California
Look at-look at-look at California
Look at-look at-look at California


I know New York the mecca of hip hop
A-Town stay doin’ they thing
Chi-Town breed Kanye and muh’ fuckin’ Common
Sometimes y’all gotta look at California
Ayo, Jimmy Iovine, tell Dre these headphones the shit

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