Mr. West, Money, The Power - The Game lyrics
[Mr. West, Money, The Power - The Game lyrics]
Today Jimmy Hendrix is motivation
I guess it's time for me
To put them 808?s in
Middle finger to them faggot niggas hating
And Sak Pase to all my fucking Haitians
Give me a pimp cup to pour my Rose in
I'm in the same car that Ricky Rozay in
Tell Satan that it's a celebration
So get your hands up, nigga get your hands up
Now, which one of us is really Mr. West?
Probably the one of us that really
Needs to wear his vest
And I'm just shooting my
Niggas some subliminals
'Cuz he got all the bitches and
I be with the criminals
Beat sound like some crazy shit
That Tim would do
Now when you see me
I'm the brown Eminem to you
Show you what I'm finna do
But you don't know it's me though
Magic when I shoot, get to boxing like Hedo
Turkoglu, niggas, get to murking you niggas
Hit your block in the Caprice
And just circle you niggas
Know what I mean? Think you pheens
How I'm serving you niggas
Know what I mean? Think I'm beans
How I'm serving you niggas
And it ain't rice and beans
When I'm serving you niggas
Punk you in front of your crew
Steve Urkel you niggas
Putting bull shit out
I hope it works for you niggas
And when it don't, come and see me
I got that work for you niggas
Like uh (Mr. West, Mr. West)
Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West)
Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West)
Now, which one of us is really Mr. West?
He had a Rolls, I had a Rolls too
Eat your money up, you know how them hoes do
Burn rubber, swear to God they gon' love ya
Like rookie cops
Can't wait to be undercovers
I'm 6'5?, nigga basketball size
You act like I can't fuck
One of them basketball wives
I be a basketball Game
With my basketball dame
Feeling like, Hov, call back
I'm watching basketball dang
Damn, but I ain't talking 'bout dames
I ain't talking bout Hov
I'm just talking bout Game
Ask Ray Allen, they boy got game
Jesus Shuttlesworth, yeah the boy got range-s
In the parking lot, niggas talk a lot
They way they gossiping hip-hop should
Be a barber shop
Getting cash money baby
Why you tryna baller block?
Mad chick, her's
Man somebody gotta call the shots
I guess it's me y'all
The highest on the see saw
Get so much money
Why the fuck would I wann be y'all?
Shit, I be everywhere
But I don't ever see y'all
So for the next 12 songs
I'mma fucking R.I.P. y'all
Sometimes I hear anger talking
Asking how I'm feeling
I'm just happy to be alive, Lord willing
Four albums later, two more children
Feeling like 'Ye
"Mr. West is in the building"
What happened to the competition?
Nigga I killed 'em
Can't drink Crystal
The nigga Hov chilled 'em
I'm on this patent rhyme like
I know them niggas
Them haters say I fell off? I'm
'bout to show them niggas
Drake and J. Cole them niggas
I sold nine mill, made nine mill
And kept it hood nigga
Just like Drake told a nigga
I made it rain in hundreds
Like I was Big Meech
I made it rain in hundreds
When I was with Meech
Went from a Cutlass with the old front end
To a, um, Benz, stop light jumping
Now I'mma take you back to
Where I got jumped in
West side Compton, just east of the one ten
I just roll weed on your last album
And after that I'm 'bout to fuck
Your girl for 'bout an hour
Look around the club, uh
All I see is cowards
Mad 'cuz I got respect, the money
And the power
I just roll weed on your last album
And after that I'm 'bout to fuck
Your girl for 'bout an hour
Look around the club and all I see is cowards
Mad 'cuz I got respect, the money
And all the power
"No one man should have.." 'Ye said that
"Can't knock the: " Naw, Jay said that
"You can thank me: " Naw, Drake said that
"Mind playing tricks on me"
Scarface said that
But I'm about to roll this paper plane
Hit the barber shop
Get cut before this Laker game
Niggas hate The Game
Sometimes I hate the fame
They hate my bitch, they hate my chain
I'm so hood
I might fly to New York
And just take the train
On some John Travolta shit
Just take the train
So if you in New York at two o'clock
Don't take the train
I make niggas dissapear, no David Blaine
I split your whole team up, no Jay and Dame
Fresher than Will Smith was before Jada came
Four albums, twelve cars
But the flow stay the same
Every nigga I dap turn blood
It's like I'm made of flames
Dipping this red flag
Like the one I gave to Wayne
Go Dwight Howard, now watch them hoes run
Soon as the Game over
They back stripping for ones
Had your bitch all in my crib
Stripping for fun
Getting head
Thinking 'bout cars when I
Strip 'em for fun
Walk in my closet, throw on my J's
Pick up my gun
Spin the block with some some shit
That spit quicker than Pun
I respect two East Coast niggas
Biggie was one
If he was living, he'd say that
No one is sicker then son
Uh
Young gun, bar none
The tightest where I'm from
Roll some much kush
Got the leaves sticking to my thumb
As I break it down
Bring that six tray around
Banging Nas album, yeah, you can hate me now
Treat beef like haircuts, gotta fade it down
Ran out bars, guess I name-drop Slim and Baby
How can niggas hate on me?
'cuz I get Cash Money
Six bricks in the Aston Martin
That's fast money
I guess it's time for me
To put them 808?s in
Middle finger to them faggot niggas hating
And Sak Pase to all my fucking Haitians
Give me a pimp cup to pour my Rose in
I'm in the same car that Ricky Rozay in
Tell Satan that it's a celebration
So get your hands up, nigga get your hands up
Now, which one of us is really Mr. West?
Probably the one of us that really
Needs to wear his vest
And I'm just shooting my
Niggas some subliminals
'Cuz he got all the bitches and
I be with the criminals
Beat sound like some crazy shit
That Tim would do
Now when you see me
I'm the brown Eminem to you
Show you what I'm finna do
But you don't know it's me though
Magic when I shoot, get to boxing like Hedo
Turkoglu, niggas, get to murking you niggas
Hit your block in the Caprice
And just circle you niggas
Know what I mean? Think you pheens
How I'm serving you niggas
Know what I mean? Think I'm beans
How I'm serving you niggas
And it ain't rice and beans
When I'm serving you niggas
Punk you in front of your crew
Steve Urkel you niggas
Putting bull shit out
I hope it works for you niggas
And when it don't, come and see me
I got that work for you niggas
Like uh (Mr. West, Mr. West)
Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West)
Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West)
Now, which one of us is really Mr. West?
He had a Rolls, I had a Rolls too
Eat your money up, you know how them hoes do
Burn rubber, swear to God they gon' love ya
Like rookie cops
Can't wait to be undercovers
I'm 6'5?, nigga basketball size
You act like I can't fuck
One of them basketball wives
I be a basketball Game
With my basketball dame
Feeling like, Hov, call back
I'm watching basketball dang
Damn, but I ain't talking 'bout dames
I ain't talking bout Hov
I'm just talking bout Game
Ask Ray Allen, they boy got game
Jesus Shuttlesworth, yeah the boy got range-s
In the parking lot, niggas talk a lot
They way they gossiping hip-hop should
Be a barber shop
Getting cash money baby
Why you tryna baller block?
Mad chick, her's
Man somebody gotta call the shots
I guess it's me y'all
The highest on the see saw
Get so much money
Why the fuck would I wann be y'all?
Shit, I be everywhere
But I don't ever see y'all
So for the next 12 songs
I'mma fucking R.I.P. y'all
Sometimes I hear anger talking
Asking how I'm feeling
I'm just happy to be alive, Lord willing
Four albums later, two more children
Feeling like 'Ye
"Mr. West is in the building"
What happened to the competition?
Nigga I killed 'em
Can't drink Crystal
The nigga Hov chilled 'em
I'm on this patent rhyme like
I know them niggas
Them haters say I fell off? I'm
'bout to show them niggas
Drake and J. Cole them niggas
I sold nine mill, made nine mill
And kept it hood nigga
Just like Drake told a nigga
I made it rain in hundreds
Like I was Big Meech
I made it rain in hundreds
When I was with Meech
Went from a Cutlass with the old front end
To a, um, Benz, stop light jumping
Now I'mma take you back to
Where I got jumped in
West side Compton, just east of the one ten
I just roll weed on your last album
And after that I'm 'bout to fuck
Your girl for 'bout an hour
Look around the club, uh
All I see is cowards
Mad 'cuz I got respect, the money
And the power
I just roll weed on your last album
And after that I'm 'bout to fuck
Your girl for 'bout an hour
Look around the club and all I see is cowards
Mad 'cuz I got respect, the money
And all the power
"No one man should have.." 'Ye said that
"Can't knock the: " Naw, Jay said that
"You can thank me: " Naw, Drake said that
"Mind playing tricks on me"
Scarface said that
But I'm about to roll this paper plane
Hit the barber shop
Get cut before this Laker game
Niggas hate The Game
Sometimes I hate the fame
They hate my bitch, they hate my chain
I'm so hood
I might fly to New York
And just take the train
On some John Travolta shit
Just take the train
So if you in New York at two o'clock
Don't take the train
I make niggas dissapear, no David Blaine
I split your whole team up, no Jay and Dame
Fresher than Will Smith was before Jada came
Four albums, twelve cars
But the flow stay the same
Every nigga I dap turn blood
It's like I'm made of flames
Dipping this red flag
Like the one I gave to Wayne
Go Dwight Howard, now watch them hoes run
Soon as the Game over
They back stripping for ones
Had your bitch all in my crib
Stripping for fun
Getting head
Thinking 'bout cars when I
Strip 'em for fun
Walk in my closet, throw on my J's
Pick up my gun
Spin the block with some some shit
That spit quicker than Pun
I respect two East Coast niggas
Biggie was one
If he was living, he'd say that
No one is sicker then son
Uh
Young gun, bar none
The tightest where I'm from
Roll some much kush
Got the leaves sticking to my thumb
As I break it down
Bring that six tray around
Banging Nas album, yeah, you can hate me now
Treat beef like haircuts, gotta fade it down
Ran out bars, guess I name-drop Slim and Baby
How can niggas hate on me?
'cuz I get Cash Money
Six bricks in the Aston Martin
That's fast money