The Game - Krush Groove (feat. JT the Bigga Figga, Get Low Playaz) lyrics
[The Game - Krush Groove feat. JT the Bigga Figga, Get Low Playaz lyrics]
We on our third song, we on our third song
Heyyeyy
You understand it
I'm official with mine; I'm double-clutchin
On the fo'-wheel
Pushin quarters like niggaz doin dope deals
Fo' cut 50 like a verse and a half
I cut the brick and now we countin the math
We 'bout that birdplay
My crew's committed, you dudes gon' get it
Have a seat you through when I'm finished
My troopers is fitted
Got 'em posted out in Brooklyn
Hollis Queens to the Bridge
We in the studio the Figgaro
Done did it again
We got factors out in the ditch
Where they smackin a bitch
I got homies out in the Bronx
Where they bustin at cops
It ain't no game with the underground
Came from the underground
Pushin a hundred thousand, we out the trunk
Never browsin
JT, another boss from the Bay
And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre
What'chu say nigga?
JT, another boss from the Bay
And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre
Motherfucker
Hey yo it seem to me like
E'rybody got they own truth
Believe me I'm in them
Sheets like phonebooths
I play the game I was born to score
But I'm a lil' too cute
For them corner stores
A little too, known, to stand on the block
And a lil' too eager to sit in the spot
Mami, I'm from the Eastside
Yup yes that side
Heads fly if I open ya chest that wide
Gimme a bad vibe end up on ya backside
Or you can get your back and side
Splatted in back of ya ride
And I can make it happen
If I don't make it rappin
This lump of Satan I'm packin thrash
'em with a major passion
I slash ya face and fracture you
Flashin in the latest fashion
And have you dashin from Manhattan
All the way to Aspen
Your shit is whack
Heard your tape and had to take an aspirin
Step ya game up
Listen, before I get up in the mornin
I ask the Lord for strength
Tryin to get my niggaz out the hood
You know how the forces get
It's like the devil got a hold of my neck
And I'm gettin this change runnin
'round reppin my set
Momma used to look at me funny; she
Could tell her baby boy changed
Must be out there gettin some money
But it's a price for everything
You know how the game go
For them birds niggaz'll cock
Back the calico
Now you introduced to the beef
What'chu gon' do now?
Bitch up, skid in your crib
Or pull them tools out?
A lot of niggaz is real
A lot of niggaz is fake
A lot of niggaz shake your hand
And shake hands with Jake
Fuck what'chu heard, I startled your brain
I hit the spot like a in ballers and jeans
On some eighty-eight shit
More "Raw" than Kane
It's not my fault she looked at me
- you better talk to your dame
That's just
Part of the game and you got served
Who got nerve cause Lethal
Hard like Tupac words
And, why y'all Chucks always
Actin like tough guys
You must be trippin or
You slippin on mudslides
And in the hood you see
It's different from one time
What's your bloodline
Play the strip to the sunshine
And I don't even know why
I'm wastin my breath
I oughta be like Makaveli and
Be fakin my death
I keep that good shit it's tastin so fresh
And all y'all sloppy Joe niggaz
Yo y'all makin a mess
We on the way to yo' nap
So put your tapes in the deck
And spit in a hundred bars
Straight without breakin a sweat
Heyyeyy
You understand it
I'm official with mine; I'm double-clutchin
On the fo'-wheel
Pushin quarters like niggaz doin dope deals
Fo' cut 50 like a verse and a half
I cut the brick and now we countin the math
We 'bout that birdplay
My crew's committed, you dudes gon' get it
Have a seat you through when I'm finished
My troopers is fitted
Got 'em posted out in Brooklyn
Hollis Queens to the Bridge
We in the studio the Figgaro
Done did it again
We got factors out in the ditch
Where they smackin a bitch
I got homies out in the Bronx
Where they bustin at cops
It ain't no game with the underground
Came from the underground
Pushin a hundred thousand, we out the trunk
Never browsin
JT, another boss from the Bay
And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre
What'chu say nigga?
JT, another boss from the Bay
And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre
Motherfucker
Hey yo it seem to me like
E'rybody got they own truth
Believe me I'm in them
Sheets like phonebooths
I play the game I was born to score
But I'm a lil' too cute
For them corner stores
A little too, known, to stand on the block
And a lil' too eager to sit in the spot
Mami, I'm from the Eastside
Yup yes that side
Heads fly if I open ya chest that wide
Gimme a bad vibe end up on ya backside
Or you can get your back and side
Splatted in back of ya ride
And I can make it happen
If I don't make it rappin
This lump of Satan I'm packin thrash
'em with a major passion
I slash ya face and fracture you
Flashin in the latest fashion
And have you dashin from Manhattan
All the way to Aspen
Your shit is whack
Heard your tape and had to take an aspirin
Step ya game up
Listen, before I get up in the mornin
I ask the Lord for strength
Tryin to get my niggaz out the hood
You know how the forces get
It's like the devil got a hold of my neck
And I'm gettin this change runnin
'round reppin my set
Momma used to look at me funny; she
Could tell her baby boy changed
Must be out there gettin some money
But it's a price for everything
You know how the game go
For them birds niggaz'll cock
Back the calico
Now you introduced to the beef
What'chu gon' do now?
Bitch up, skid in your crib
Or pull them tools out?
A lot of niggaz is real
A lot of niggaz is fake
A lot of niggaz shake your hand
And shake hands with Jake
Fuck what'chu heard, I startled your brain
I hit the spot like a in ballers and jeans
On some eighty-eight shit
More "Raw" than Kane
It's not my fault she looked at me
- you better talk to your dame
That's just
Part of the game and you got served
Who got nerve cause Lethal
Hard like Tupac words
And, why y'all Chucks always
Actin like tough guys
You must be trippin or
You slippin on mudslides
And in the hood you see
It's different from one time
What's your bloodline
Play the strip to the sunshine
And I don't even know why
I'm wastin my breath
I oughta be like Makaveli and
Be fakin my death
I keep that good shit it's tastin so fresh
And all y'all sloppy Joe niggaz
Yo y'all makin a mess
We on the way to yo' nap
So put your tapes in the deck
And spit in a hundred bars
Straight without breakin a sweat