Verse 1: Game
I'm about to tear this fuckin' track out Pretend it's Keri Hilson and blow a fuckin' back out 22nd mixtape, half of em diss tapes But fuck who I was dissin' because I never made a mistake? got what he deserved, Jay, I might have been trippin I was fallin', I was slippin He was Jordan, I thought I was Pippen He was winnin', I was losin He threw a jab, I started bruisin So I threw in the towel just to separate all confusion Ivy Blue is beautiful, me sayin' that's unusua That's the father in me, don't think I'm tryin' to be cool with yo Thug life, Rihanna knuckles, Gucci shirt, designer buckles Louis Vuitton billboard, the nigga's boy just tryin' to hustle Poster boy for them drug dealers I just want you all to love me But I ain't handsome, I ain't trying to bug niggas Y'all the Verizon man, I'm just gon' stand behind y'al But every now and then, I gotta remind y'al
Verse 2: Game
It's that red bottom boss, nigga Burgundy Bentley truck, fuck what it cost nigga That V12 start up like Ross nigga That's why them hoes call me the boss nigga Catch me in the Maybach, where them seats recline way back Remember, I had a Rocky for ya, and I ain't talkin' ASAP You know I got that K strap, chopper with the base hat If you see Tip trillin', King of Diamonds, tell I got like eight stac Ace of Spades by the crates, biatch Never lose, like Alexander the Great, biatch I only win like Bay, I run the city like mayors Don't make me go dig up them old Chuck Taylor's Back when me and Snoop was the only ones throwin' up gang si Ya niggas wasn't bloods until I cosigned y'al But y'all that Verizon man, I'm just gon' stand behind y'al And sometimes I gotta remind y'al
Verse 3: Game
Taylor Gang nigga, I ain't Wiz doe I got that yellow brick road inside my ear lobes Playin' ice hockey, feelin' like Gretzky Los Angeles King, and I'm who the whole city cheer for Niggas throwin' subliminals, act like I don't hear those I could give y'all 100 bars, but you all know y'all fear those And plus, I'm too attached to my lifestyle Fuck them Air 1's, I'm too attached to these spikes now Louis Vuitton's, hard as croutons They comfortable like futons They suede, grey poupon The yellow like Luke on The Lakers, he was traded But they should have moved that nigga Marion, Gloria Damn, was that too strong? These niggas gettin' pooped on While I get my Duke on, and crossover like Duhon Luke warm, I'm too hot, you're too cold I'm 2Pac, you're too old for hip hop Stop. Recognize...
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