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The Game( ゲーム )
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Remedy [Explicit]
作詞:Isaac Hayes, Alvertis Isbell, Justin Smith, Jayceon Taylor
As my Daytons spin, lowrider sittin' low Hittin' corners so hard, you can taste my rims Rag top six-fo', Henny in the passenger side Smokin' chronic, just 'Let Me Ride'
You would do it if my name was Dre Second comin', motherfucker, throw it up for the king of L.A. I'm known for makin' bitches take they clothes off Long as I'm from Compton, California, I could never go soft
I'm hard as a motherfuckin' ounce of raw Dribble rock like Kobe Bryant bounce the ball Fuck the law, feedin' my son is a must Whip it soft, whip it hard, in crack we trust
Why Andrew Jackson look high as fuck on the 20? G answer, cocaine been around for centuries Since I'm young, black and rich, I'm the Public Enemy Ridin' the bass drum, Just Blaze got the remedy
(Now they got me in a cell) I got the remedy (Now they got me in a cell) Aftermath got the remedy
(Now they got me in a cell) Nigga, back up, back up, back up, back up (Now they got me in a cell) 'Fore you get your punk-ass smoked
I ain't no joke G, so don't provoke me I'm from the City of Angels where that Jacob watch is a trophy And starin' at that Hollywood sign'll get you straight jacked Where you from fool? Better say you pro-black
'Cause walkin' in Roscoe's wit'cha chain hangin' Is like Giuliani tryin' to get rid of the gangbangers Now that 'Pac passed, tryin' to put us on Death Row Get ready for the Aftermath
もっと沢山の歌詞は ※ Mojim.com I run through the city like Godzilla Doin' mo' damage than Ice-T when he dropped 'Cop Killer' Pull a shotty out the trunk of the Chevy There go another victim of a 187
Who's the grim reaper wit'cha life in his hand? Even the toughest niggaz run when my gun go blam So kick back and watch the bitches dance N.W.A. is back, now let me see your motherfuckin' hands
(Now they got me in a cell) Nigga, back up, back up, back up, back up (Now they got me in a cell) 'Fore you get your punk-ass smoked
(Now they got me in a cell) (Now they got me in a cell) Nigga, back up, back up, back up, back up 'Fore you get your punk-ass smoked
I'm back by popular demand and so All black interior on the cherry red six-fo' Niggaz endin' they careers tryin' to shut me up Actin' like I traded in my khakis for a button up
The West Coast still dippin' Game still Bloodin' and Snoop still Crippin' So what you sayin', loc? Red and blue bandanna Tied in a knot, as I creep through the chronic smoke
They say it ain't good weed if you don't choke Shit got my head spinnin' like the hundred spokes Three wheelin' through the neighborhood System on blast, as the motherfuckin' one-time pass
The key to drive-bys is aim steady Turn that Bape hoody into motherfuckin' confetti When you cross that enemy line Close your eyes, 'Parental Discretion Iz Advised'
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