The Game - 300 Bars & Runnin' lyrics

My mama took me to Sam Goody's
I wanted to buy a 50 Cent CD
I took that shit home
That shit was wack like a motherfucker
Don't fuck with Game

I like 50 Cent
He reminds me Spongebob
And Tony Yayo is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the Explorer
They're my friends
Psyche

I went down one of them Bodaga
Shit's right there in Harlem
Got me a bootleg Lloyd Banks
And Young Buck CD
Took that shit home, put it in my boom box
Thought I was 'bout to be
On some radio Raheim shit
Man that shit sound like
Some Vanessa Williams '88
I mean Olivia cute but they
Say that bitch a man
So this Black Wallstreet for life now
GGG-UNOT!

300 Bars and Running
Just loan me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk with me

Here the breakdown, pass the doja
.45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em
Them niggaz they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president
But this ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker
Bring your ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss
And you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When
I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a nigga
Take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah, standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire
Then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it
Then throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep through it
We can go bar for bar
I'll let the lines speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is over let
Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing
I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only
Niggaz that rapped in Philly?
See them niggaz with the soonies
Leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
Compton camcorder said Curtis Jack in Philly
Make a U turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese steak
That's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs
Start searching for the glock
And I can't forget
B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die
When I heard that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I
Murk you on the spot
Label's signing many things
Still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the block
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say
He coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get lonely on top
You can hate me or love me
But now the cops the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win
But we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a GGG-u not!
Acting big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on that new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out
Before you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors
I'm from Cedar Block
So I got my hot tops
That make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper
Check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there
They can't believe you dropped
Now I'm moving on up to
George and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it
Then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let Lucifer rap
Bring hell to niggaz when
Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets
Put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs
Tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm still by your side
No matter who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the Ruger clap
Is Rufus back?
I see what you thinking, you want me to die
Is that so?
Now you left leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
We got reservations in heaven
You ready? Let's go!
Drop them off, then the sound like Esko
I'm a say 'he hit me first'
If me and Dre talk
All Nas said back was he had a??
Now that's the eulogy
Beef is kinda foolish see
Niggaz running their mouth about what the
Fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before
I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with
Plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out
I'm fine
Then I go right back, nigga I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia
You only drop dimes
I knew you changed
When you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent
My niggaz make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot nigga wig
He got G-Unit wings
Throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's Capone and NORE
You ain't the talk of New York
Your sixteens is boring
Take that shit off nigga, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd
Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy soldier
On Sesame street doing voice overs
Bitch ass nigga need a rhyme dictionary
To rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch
With them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got signed
He got stuck
He called 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong nigga
When you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is
Say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna
Make your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja
Why you ain't go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen
That's just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom
And you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops
He ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning I
Couldn't trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all
If I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my
Name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my
Name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my
Name like Mike Jones
I said
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my
Name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you
Can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it
But it in the store the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars
They ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred
Nigga this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Running
And I beef with any nigga
Say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you want it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike
Or Clue
And watch them shit's sell out
Like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I
Catch the nigga Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how
To DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick
Asking what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's police to use his
'Cause Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods, Bloods gonna get ya
For that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This nigga bootlegging my music
Ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs
Then put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house
Put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad
Let him scream for the jakes
'Cause when you fucking with Jayceon
You can bleed in the lake
For caking off niggaz on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record
You will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy
You'd run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every
Time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only for your shit just a lil bit
Niggaz only for your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me just a lil bit
Only on two songs
Now back to some killer shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
Beating on your chest, I see to your death
Yep
Tell Ecko to make him a suit
Tell Reebok to make him some boots
Get him a head band
To cover the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can
Walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun
Blam without a M-E T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his strings
Take my advice
Never wear air max for the game
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a Latin king
'Cause if your left with the
Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They will stab you in Folsom
Then fuck you on Rikers
And Life Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who
Lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna
Leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hit's
You should've kept them for yourself
Nigga stop acting tough before
I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary live
On top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your
Ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack empty
The rest in the passenger
Fase yelling that's enough
Let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the
Doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking
Fase think I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hearse on 41st and traffic
What
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it
Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New York cab
I miss the Old King, that New York had
Who's this fake nigga
On pictures with the Jake nigga?
Got his crew starving 'cause he
Ain't the whole cake
Nigga
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you talking
About who you shot
I'll use another six bars to
Tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent
He went out like a gangsta
You went out with Vivica
Three months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Trying
We thought you was hot
Now the same nigga wanna take
Us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club
Him and Lloyd Banks hugging
Nigga got mad when The Game start buzzing
So fuck making friends now
I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking about we a family
Game had to go
Nigga I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'Cause I don't wanna be cool
I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands
Or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks
Don't wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and
The matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons
I was the first one with it
Four times platinum
I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted
Then wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord Givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop
I'll wait for the day
Niggaz hating on me
They don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon
To make a mistake
So they can put me in the
SWAT car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can drive down criminal way
Pushing the rock
Nah this ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot
And I want the winter to stay
'Cause I'm a cold nigga when I
Put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre
He turned them into grenades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
Like I close my eyes
And woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever
Then I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest
A hundred thou wet Jacob
Whole crew got chains
A hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit Satan
And the only thing I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the more
Willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop
Watch where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house
They they calling all cars
'Cause they heard about what went on in D.C
Heard about Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now tell me do he got a conscience?
I think not
'cause if he did I wouldn't
Be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem
Wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, like??
50 whispered in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends
I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air
One hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school?
I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dana Day
On the corner like Common
Now that ain't common
It's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
And I still shine like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit
And I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the paint
Shit
I be mad, I ain't
I'm supposed to stop I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, Impala liftin'
And I keep a black .45 on
The side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like
I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision
Blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like Kim before the d-cup
Continuously getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got
The cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I
Guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that
So muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac
Impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that murder T-IP, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up
When the 'K' clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck
Now it's time for payback
It go
How you from Cashville but you
Ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's
Your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I
Gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my AK-47
This nigga playing with his life
I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game
Talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial
It's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David
'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe
When it's war he pull out butter knifes
Motherfucker I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc.
Now who the wanksta?
When Suge had you
You were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and
Went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus
And felt your little flow
Then he made you temporary
Replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your
Spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands
And you ain't had the ten stacks
Picture that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to find
I told Monica when I catch
Him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop
When I run inside the Candy Shop
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I mean for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath
Like I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go
Lay it down like sheet rock
Don't worry about the flow
The boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November
Nigga fuck Reeboks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac
I need three spots
280 in, ain't no getting me back
I'm yelling fuck the world
On my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens
Then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever motherfucker, yeah
Who want beef?
Now whenever motherfucker, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted
Resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want peace
So give 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in peace
From west to east the flow is outdatable
Irreplaceable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot
I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace
You cannot replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return
I remain Jayceon
A king in the making
And the throne is for the taking
So I climb the mountain top
And put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hood rat bitch
Can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Running, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone
Gone gone gone gone gone