The Game, JT the Bigga Figga - Compton 2 Filimoe lyrics
[The Game, JT the Bigga Figga - Compton 2 Filimoe lyrics]
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay, our chains hang
L.A. they can't bang
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In L.A. they havin problems
The Bay we pop collars
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay we pop hollows
L.A. they pop hollows
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay we pop bottles
L.A. they pop bottles
They can't cop what the bricks'll cost
But we stay in the lane to
Maintain in the 6 to floss
Leather gloves with the tips to toss
But the money was made from conversation
Had to clip the boss
Smash down at the V.I.P
Street smarts is crucial for young
Niggaz in the CX-3
Drop Jag with the price to pay
Cause the bags was heavy my chain
Swangin like a ice capade
Got the feds lookin twice this way
Cause we shuffle the P's in different
Places that the name
Compton to Fillmoe man the game is real
When you turn 15 get your stainless steel
Whole squad been trained to kill, we official
And switch to get rich now we after the meals
Hard times got cakes for 3
When it's havin a bundle we break bread
For the safe and flee nigga
I got guns, guns, guns, guns
Guns all over the club
We in V.I.P. strapped, security know that
25 deep, guns up under the throwback
That new R. Kelly shit
Sound like Bobby Womack
Black Wall Street in HURR
Nigga where the hoes at
We got sour diesel, three cases of Hypnotiq
And more guns than the Nickerson Projects
Niggaz don't want beef with me
Cause they know they gotta pay for talkin
Shit but the sheets is free
And ain't nuttin to shoot the club up
You don't want drama in this
Motherfucker throw them dubs up
Jacob got the wrists on chill
And N.W.A. chain glow like the
Memory of Ill Will
Relax your mind and let
Your drawers feel free
You're now rollin to the sound
Of the Game and JT
But you can't come with the
Rest of her friends
Cause you know I'm a boss and won't
Play cause she short on my ends
Make rounds from the back of the Benz
With the that kid with frog
Eyes with the corners to bend
The things we go through
I'm beatin ya brains
Got some homies next do' and
I picked up the Game
While they knockin on the do' I
Get deep in ya dame
Gotta charge you a G just for speakin my name
I'm not eatin your chocha or
Payin for the coach ma
I'm a pimp like 50
The nigga to leave you broke ma
6 in the mornin, you stretchin on the sofa
Singin "Ain't No Nigga" like
Foxy Brown and Hova
I fuck 'em dogstyle with Billys and Novas
With or without chaffeurs
I make 'em fuck the both of us
You know what it is, the gangster's back
And I keep my banger at
Where my chain hang at
I'm ghetto
In the Bay, our chains hang
L.A. they can't bang
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In L.A. they havin problems
The Bay we pop collars
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay we pop hollows
L.A. they pop hollows
Compton to Fillmore here we go again
In the Bay we pop bottles
L.A. they pop bottles
They can't cop what the bricks'll cost
But we stay in the lane to
Maintain in the 6 to floss
Leather gloves with the tips to toss
But the money was made from conversation
Had to clip the boss
Smash down at the V.I.P
Street smarts is crucial for young
Niggaz in the CX-3
Drop Jag with the price to pay
Cause the bags was heavy my chain
Swangin like a ice capade
Got the feds lookin twice this way
Cause we shuffle the P's in different
Places that the name
Compton to Fillmoe man the game is real
When you turn 15 get your stainless steel
Whole squad been trained to kill, we official
And switch to get rich now we after the meals
Hard times got cakes for 3
When it's havin a bundle we break bread
For the safe and flee nigga
I got guns, guns, guns, guns
Guns all over the club
We in V.I.P. strapped, security know that
25 deep, guns up under the throwback
That new R. Kelly shit
Sound like Bobby Womack
Black Wall Street in HURR
Nigga where the hoes at
We got sour diesel, three cases of Hypnotiq
And more guns than the Nickerson Projects
Niggaz don't want beef with me
Cause they know they gotta pay for talkin
Shit but the sheets is free
And ain't nuttin to shoot the club up
You don't want drama in this
Motherfucker throw them dubs up
Jacob got the wrists on chill
And N.W.A. chain glow like the
Memory of Ill Will
Relax your mind and let
Your drawers feel free
You're now rollin to the sound
Of the Game and JT
But you can't come with the
Rest of her friends
Cause you know I'm a boss and won't
Play cause she short on my ends
Make rounds from the back of the Benz
With the that kid with frog
Eyes with the corners to bend
The things we go through
I'm beatin ya brains
Got some homies next do' and
I picked up the Game
While they knockin on the do' I
Get deep in ya dame
Gotta charge you a G just for speakin my name
I'm not eatin your chocha or
Payin for the coach ma
I'm a pimp like 50
The nigga to leave you broke ma
6 in the mornin, you stretchin on the sofa
Singin "Ain't No Nigga" like
Foxy Brown and Hova
I fuck 'em dogstyle with Billys and Novas
With or without chaffeurs
I make 'em fuck the both of us
You know what it is, the gangster's back
And I keep my banger at
Where my chain hang at
I'm ghetto