The Game, JT - Fuck Wit Me lyrics

Yo, it's the nigga with the nasty
Flow and the clean rag six-four
With the D's spinnin I can bag a ho
Top down so my rag can show
Whatever in the dutch
Purple or orange haze it's just
A bag of 'dro
Hit snatch with my khakis on, Aladdin Lounge
In Mark Jacobs denim and Don Magli's on
I'm a gangsta and the birds they love it
20 with a babyface and sit
On base like Kirby Puckett
You can't buy a Ferrari fuck it
Cop lle' from J
The bricks come with Louis Vuitton luggage
He order rock and cover it, the dimes is free
The quarters is 75, the ball is live
Ain't nobody fumblin on my block
We in the field like Biggs or Marshall Faulk
We runnin the rock
Nothin less than a hundred a pop
Anything less you a cop
Shoot you and take your vest and your glock
Motherfuckers

What'chu know about stackin G's; you got
To come fuck wit me
Puffin on sticky green; you got
To come fuck wit me
My team is just oh so clean; you
Got to come fuck wit me
What'chu know about stackin G's; you gots
To come fuck wit me

I'm in the streets like the place is mine
Told to cover my tracks
I push paper to increase my shine
I'm on my chief
Jumpin out the wagon like Tyco
And get the kind of paper
That these niggaz'll die fo'
Bossed out, camouflage under my vest B
Motorbike, fast cars, broads and jetskis
Rule #1, keep your eye on your cash flow
Cause rule #2 will get rid of your best so
None of 'em best show, ridin in stress mode
'less they got petrol, pushin that Benz slow
Pick up the Game, let's count some cash
Then we, get to the do'
Then you put on your mask
On some other shit, ridin wit'cha boy now
We on the West coast, seek and destroy now
It's like when Cal-Berkeley whooped
On that Georgetown
We had a riot in the streets
Fin' to blow now fo'sho' now

The underboss, ill too fast
Buildin my stocks off the blocks
And the wears will sag
Not Gil but tryin to top, the nerd Bill Gates
From the city of project buildings
And them mossberg K's
San Francisco, West coast, Northern Bay
California
Man it's Get Low so best to toast
Or torch'll spray on ya
Uhh, makin mafia moves, skate from the cops
Yeah they tried stoppin ya dude
But nah, the ball, it don't stop
A shot callin if I fall
Then my thoughts gon' flock
Yeah, underboss with Game and Doc Figgaro
Clear and I'm the in-di-vi-dual
Holdin weight, in the dope state
Tokin the 8-8, oh, fold
Watch our bread and our team skyrocket
Visualize I can rip beam on the cash
And not 8 guys can't stop it