JAY-Z, Beanie Sigel, Memphis Bleek - Change the Game lyrics
[JAY-Z, Beanie Sigel, Memphis Bleek - Change the Game lyrics]
Ugh, ugh, ugh, let's go! Ugh, bounce
Ugh, bounce ugh, bounce
Ugh
Shit, relax your mind
Let your conscience be free
You're now rollin' with them
Thugs from the R-O-C
Sigel-Sigel in the house! Uh huh
Sick bastard (yeah)
Get your wig pushed back by
The wig push back-er (Ugh, ugh)
Memph' Bleek in the house! Still here
Never left (Ugh, ugh)
Still bust, more or less, still puff, BITCH!
(Ugh, ugh)
Young Hova in the house Jigga! (yeah)
Cris' sipper, six-dipper, wrist-glitter
Nigga!
Hold up, love every time you see Jiggaman
I'm rolling on dubs
Don't forget about them blades, shit
Chopping it up
It's the motherfucking Roc, bitch
Who hotter than us?
Jay-Hov, 'bout to change my name to Jay Peso
But in the meantime, call me William H
Though on the platinum Yamaha
Got the engine gunning
Throwing it up like liquor
On an empty stomach
Cycle whizzes by Y'all don't hear nothing?
Who that, Mack? Naw, dawg
That's M bleek coming
Who the FUCK! want! what?!
Catch Bleek in South Beach out of
The reach of the police gat on my lap
(yeah) , bitch on my back (Holla)
'Gnac in my pocket
Smoking that sticky chocolate (Ooohwee)
Holler if you want drama with
The Dynasty Amil, Bleek, Jigga, and
Sigel Desert Eagle, dawg, who else but me?
Roc Airs, Roc Wears, bandannas and white tees
Me without a gun, dawg? Unlikely
You know I keep the heat
Right under the wife-beat'
Three-X tee, I'm Lincoln now
You can't see the pound
Got a little gut, so the gat sit tucked
(Fuck) i run wild, gun high, LA style
Bang the Roscoe 'til the sunrise plus
I stay dumb high
Whether block shit or rock shit
Club shit or drug shit, I pop shit I got shit
Get Sig' any track, I'ma spit the talk to it
Down South gon' bounce Crips gon' walk to it
Get a ounce, get a woods
Everybody spark to it
Every dawg, every Blood in the hood
Bark to it get the ounce, get the 'Woods
Everybody spark to it we can smoke in here
Put the choke in the air (yeah)
(Don't change the game for these hoes)
(Who plays the game like we supposed)
Sigel-Sigel in the house! Uh huh
Sick bastard (yeah)
Get your wig pushed back by
The wig push backer (Ugh, ugh)
(Don't change the game for these hoes)
(Who plays the game like we supposed)
Memph' Bleek in the house! Still here
Never left
Still bust, more or less, still puff, BITCH!
(Don't change the game for these hoes)
(Who plays the game like we supposed)
Young Hova in the house Jigga!
Cris' sipper, six-dipper, wrist-glitter
Nigga! (yeah)
I wear more bling to The
Source and Soul Trains
More chains than rings
Niggas won't do a thing
I bangs the four-four in
Plain daylight I'm deranged
Spray right at your brain by the way
This is Hov
One-shot Dillinger, one shot killing you
It's only one Roc La Familia
Sigel lock Philly up, Brooklyn is me
Matter-fact, the East Coast fuck
Took it from me? Fourth album, still Jay
Still spitting that real shit volume 3
Still sold more records than Will Smith
Can't call this a comeback, I run rap
The fuck is y'all saying?
Five million? I done that, and I've come back
To do it again! (Uh, huh)
Ex-sinner, Grammy Award winner
Balling repeatedly
Highlights on SportsCenter
Please repeat after me it's only one rule:
I will not lose!
Ugh, bounce ugh, bounce
Ugh
Shit, relax your mind
Let your conscience be free
You're now rollin' with them
Thugs from the R-O-C
Sigel-Sigel in the house! Uh huh
Sick bastard (yeah)
Get your wig pushed back by
The wig push back-er (Ugh, ugh)
Memph' Bleek in the house! Still here
Never left (Ugh, ugh)
Still bust, more or less, still puff, BITCH!
(Ugh, ugh)
Young Hova in the house Jigga! (yeah)
Cris' sipper, six-dipper, wrist-glitter
Nigga!
Hold up, love every time you see Jiggaman
I'm rolling on dubs
Don't forget about them blades, shit
Chopping it up
It's the motherfucking Roc, bitch
Who hotter than us?
Jay-Hov, 'bout to change my name to Jay Peso
But in the meantime, call me William H
Though on the platinum Yamaha
Got the engine gunning
Throwing it up like liquor
On an empty stomach
Cycle whizzes by Y'all don't hear nothing?
Who that, Mack? Naw, dawg
That's M bleek coming
Who the FUCK! want! what?!
Catch Bleek in South Beach out of
The reach of the police gat on my lap
(yeah) , bitch on my back (Holla)
'Gnac in my pocket
Smoking that sticky chocolate (Ooohwee)
Holler if you want drama with
The Dynasty Amil, Bleek, Jigga, and
Sigel Desert Eagle, dawg, who else but me?
Roc Airs, Roc Wears, bandannas and white tees
Me without a gun, dawg? Unlikely
You know I keep the heat
Right under the wife-beat'
Three-X tee, I'm Lincoln now
You can't see the pound
Got a little gut, so the gat sit tucked
(Fuck) i run wild, gun high, LA style
Bang the Roscoe 'til the sunrise plus
I stay dumb high
Whether block shit or rock shit
Club shit or drug shit, I pop shit I got shit
Get Sig' any track, I'ma spit the talk to it
Down South gon' bounce Crips gon' walk to it
Get a ounce, get a woods
Everybody spark to it
Every dawg, every Blood in the hood
Bark to it get the ounce, get the 'Woods
Everybody spark to it we can smoke in here
Put the choke in the air (yeah)
(Don't change the game for these hoes)
(Who plays the game like we supposed)
Sigel-Sigel in the house! Uh huh
Sick bastard (yeah)
Get your wig pushed back by
The wig push backer (Ugh, ugh)
(Don't change the game for these hoes)
(Who plays the game like we supposed)
Memph' Bleek in the house! Still here
Never left
Still bust, more or less, still puff, BITCH!
(Don't change the game for these hoes)
(Who plays the game like we supposed)
Young Hova in the house Jigga!
Cris' sipper, six-dipper, wrist-glitter
Nigga! (yeah)
I wear more bling to The
Source and Soul Trains
More chains than rings
Niggas won't do a thing
I bangs the four-four in
Plain daylight I'm deranged
Spray right at your brain by the way
This is Hov
One-shot Dillinger, one shot killing you
It's only one Roc La Familia
Sigel lock Philly up, Brooklyn is me
Matter-fact, the East Coast fuck
Took it from me? Fourth album, still Jay
Still spitting that real shit volume 3
Still sold more records than Will Smith
Can't call this a comeback, I run rap
The fuck is y'all saying?
Five million? I done that, and I've come back
To do it again! (Uh, huh)
Ex-sinner, Grammy Award winner
Balling repeatedly
Highlights on SportsCenter
Please repeat after me it's only one rule:
I will not lose!