The Game - Ain't Fuckin With You lyrics
[The Game - Ain't Fuckin With You lyrics]
That T.M. shit, that T.M. shit
Trackmasters, that T.M. shit, that shit
That T.M. shit – Game!
I don't care that you lookin like
Beyonce on her best day
(I ain't fuckin wit'chu)
You got your high heels on and
Your body feel warm but tonight
(I ain't fuckin wit'chu)
You got your hair did right and
Your panties too tight but tonight
(I ain't fuckin wit'chu)
Could be another night, girl, but tonight
(I ain't fuckin wit'chu)
I'm tired of playin your games
You pissin me off
I'm watchin LeBron so holla when
This shit go off
You say I be trippin but really
It's you that be gone
Always bringin up Tanisha be givin me dome
I ain't tryin to hear that
I'm just tryin to chill
So chill
Like Chamillionaire or Mike Jones grill
All in front of my flat screen
True Religion black jeans
Dancin like Ciara, I ain't Bow Wow or 50
Tryin to get me but I back out
I could blow your back out
Lay you down, put it in the hole
Like Stackhouse
We used to hit midtown
Throwin all them stacks out
Run through the Louis Vuitton store
And clean the racks out
Used to feel good
When I watch your Porsche back out
You bought Keyshia Cole album
Now you tryin to act out
Flippin like a Sidekick
Tell me what is that 'bout?
You can't take the heat
Get the fuck up out of Shaq house
Black out
Bitch, I'm rollin 21's and over
Not the club
The dubs on that platinum Range Rover
My neck's so iced out
My wrists so shined up
I make hoes line up, see a pole climb up
Brown sugar or light skin
Black or white skin
If she could drop it low then
She could be my night friend
Or my one night stand, if she got a nice tan
Before I leave I cut the
Light off of your nightstand
Back to the house
My girl wanna have real sex
Nah, I keep my kids like Britney Spears' ex
Take her back to the future
I ain't even here yet
And that line was fly, bitch I'm a Leer jet
Stop playin girl, stop playin
Stop playin girl, stop playin!
Stop playin girl, stop playin
I said stop playin, you better stop playin
'Fore I break you off like a Kit Kat
You know I wanna hit that
Banana split that
But a real nigga had to sit back
Cause that's what we do
When girls be with the chit-chat
Every mornin on "The View"
Them girls be with the chit-chat
Enough with all the riff raff
Let me see your cat walk
I'm old school, Garfield
I can make your cat talk
But I'm a gangsta, so I'ma back off
Keyshia and DMX
I'll leave yo' ass with that thought
For real
That T.M. shit, uh huh, that T.M. shit
Trackmasters, that T.M. shit, that shit
That T.M. shit – Game!
Trackmasters, that T.M. shit, that shit
That T.M. shit – Game!
I don't care that you lookin like
Beyonce on her best day
(I ain't fuckin wit'chu)
You got your high heels on and
Your body feel warm but tonight
(I ain't fuckin wit'chu)
You got your hair did right and
Your panties too tight but tonight
(I ain't fuckin wit'chu)
Could be another night, girl, but tonight
(I ain't fuckin wit'chu)
I'm tired of playin your games
You pissin me off
I'm watchin LeBron so holla when
This shit go off
You say I be trippin but really
It's you that be gone
Always bringin up Tanisha be givin me dome
I ain't tryin to hear that
I'm just tryin to chill
So chill
Like Chamillionaire or Mike Jones grill
All in front of my flat screen
True Religion black jeans
Dancin like Ciara, I ain't Bow Wow or 50
Tryin to get me but I back out
I could blow your back out
Lay you down, put it in the hole
Like Stackhouse
We used to hit midtown
Throwin all them stacks out
Run through the Louis Vuitton store
And clean the racks out
Used to feel good
When I watch your Porsche back out
You bought Keyshia Cole album
Now you tryin to act out
Flippin like a Sidekick
Tell me what is that 'bout?
You can't take the heat
Get the fuck up out of Shaq house
Black out
Bitch, I'm rollin 21's and over
Not the club
The dubs on that platinum Range Rover
My neck's so iced out
My wrists so shined up
I make hoes line up, see a pole climb up
Brown sugar or light skin
Black or white skin
If she could drop it low then
She could be my night friend
Or my one night stand, if she got a nice tan
Before I leave I cut the
Light off of your nightstand
Back to the house
My girl wanna have real sex
Nah, I keep my kids like Britney Spears' ex
Take her back to the future
I ain't even here yet
And that line was fly, bitch I'm a Leer jet
Stop playin girl, stop playin
Stop playin girl, stop playin!
Stop playin girl, stop playin
I said stop playin, you better stop playin
'Fore I break you off like a Kit Kat
You know I wanna hit that
Banana split that
But a real nigga had to sit back
Cause that's what we do
When girls be with the chit-chat
Every mornin on "The View"
Them girls be with the chit-chat
Enough with all the riff raff
Let me see your cat walk
I'm old school, Garfield
I can make your cat talk
But I'm a gangsta, so I'ma back off
Keyshia and DMX
I'll leave yo' ass with that thought
For real
That T.M. shit, uh huh, that T.M. shit
Trackmasters, that T.M. shit, that shit
That T.M. shit – Game!