The Game - Business Never Personal (feat. Justus) lyrics
[The Game - Business Never Personal feat. Justus lyrics]
Yo, when I'm out in Oakland
Catch me in the silver and black Coupe
With two Desert Eagles and an ounce of glue
When I'm out in San Fran
The P.D. real nervous
Cause they know I'm packin heat
Under the Willie Mays jersey
Nigga, it ain't nuttin for me
To empty a clip
Or wave my guns in the air
And just enter ya strip
I know about gangs
Had shootouts with plenty of Crips
I sold crack and been out of
Town with plenty of bricks
So ain't nuttin you can tell me
About the game
Come with beef and leave
Here without your brains
And I'ma drive upstate and try
To bounce this 'caine
In that Shelby the same
Color as moutanin rain
And you know I got the South clickin
Cause ain't nuttin like niggaz with gold
Teeth and them down South chickens
So fuck with my D and
Get found wit'cha mouth missin
This ain't about you and me
It's about business nigga
It's business never personal
Real live on blocks
If we ain't movin the rocks
Then we movin the stocks
Cross a hustler motherfucker you'll
Arrive in a box
It's the true to life struggle
'til we arrive on top
They don't understand me
Like the Birdman I got candy
Put the herb in, I got family
I'm doin 85, in the 50-mile-an-hour lane
Tryin to handle my business
The Figgaro stack change
Independent tycoons (tycoons) - yeah
My niggaz puff trees
Snort coke and chew shrooms
Bad to the bone (to the bone)
And cain't trust a nigga for shit
Cause Feds on the phone
My whole crew dirty, fuckin with amphetamines
Catch you slippin blow your
Whole crew to smitharines
Now the streets knowin (knowin)
And I'ma run this shit back with
My foot broke like Terrell Owens
Still blowin
Like Mike Jones of the Swishahouse
Gold knock them bitches outs
We take trips out to Houston and D.C
For the West coast, nigga can you feel me?
Catch me in the silver and black Coupe
With two Desert Eagles and an ounce of glue
When I'm out in San Fran
The P.D. real nervous
Cause they know I'm packin heat
Under the Willie Mays jersey
Nigga, it ain't nuttin for me
To empty a clip
Or wave my guns in the air
And just enter ya strip
I know about gangs
Had shootouts with plenty of Crips
I sold crack and been out of
Town with plenty of bricks
So ain't nuttin you can tell me
About the game
Come with beef and leave
Here without your brains
And I'ma drive upstate and try
To bounce this 'caine
In that Shelby the same
Color as moutanin rain
And you know I got the South clickin
Cause ain't nuttin like niggaz with gold
Teeth and them down South chickens
So fuck with my D and
Get found wit'cha mouth missin
This ain't about you and me
It's about business nigga
It's business never personal
Real live on blocks
If we ain't movin the rocks
Then we movin the stocks
Cross a hustler motherfucker you'll
Arrive in a box
It's the true to life struggle
'til we arrive on top
They don't understand me
Like the Birdman I got candy
Put the herb in, I got family
I'm doin 85, in the 50-mile-an-hour lane
Tryin to handle my business
The Figgaro stack change
Independent tycoons (tycoons) - yeah
My niggaz puff trees
Snort coke and chew shrooms
Bad to the bone (to the bone)
And cain't trust a nigga for shit
Cause Feds on the phone
My whole crew dirty, fuckin with amphetamines
Catch you slippin blow your
Whole crew to smitharines
Now the streets knowin (knowin)
And I'ma run this shit back with
My foot broke like Terrell Owens
Still blowin
Like Mike Jones of the Swishahouse
Gold knock them bitches outs
We take trips out to Houston and D.C
For the West coast, nigga can you feel me?