The Game Red Bandana Lyrics:
not! *echoing*
blackwall street
the game
beach boy
charli baltimore (he wears a red bandana)
rockstar
we are the black gang
free shye
mother fuckers! (he wears a red bandana)
[chorus] on the front of murder dog (he wears a)
on the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
the whole world know (he wears a)
every nigga in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the nypd (he wears a)
why you snitch on me and tell em that (he wears a red bandana)
all the pirus know (he wears a)
even my crip niggas know (he wears a red bandana)
[verse 1] chea chea
dear god let me clense my soul/ throw
away all the rims and the gold/
o no I cant do that/ do I love god? True dat/
but I got a gun so move back/
im loco like 5 eses in the side of chevelle ridin on low pros/
im a renegade ride with the 44/ been a
gangbanger all my life, fuck the popo/
I aint never been a cocky kid/ know they could
kill me if they shot pac and big/
but I let my bandana hang/ in the city of angles we gangbang/
I move that chronic and yayo/ way before I
met 50, banks, buck and yayo/
ask eminem, even dr. dre know/ I put one
in last ten in the range rov/
used to push that rock like jay hov/ you
better lay low when the ak blow/
or get wings and a halo/ run to the hood and tell
em im the nigga they gotta pray for/
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah/
I said run to the hood and tell em im the nigga they
gotta pray for, lay low and stay low
[chorus] on the front of murder dog (he wears a)
on the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
the whole world knows (he wears a)
every nigga in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the nypd (he wears a)
why you snitch on me and tell em that (he wears a red bandana)
all the pirus know (he wears a)
even my crip niggas know (he wears a red bandana)
[verse 2] chea chea
im a gangbanger don't get it fucked
up/ you aint never bang, you aint never
laces chucks up/
so how the fuck you gon criticize me/ I aint the
reason niggas is bangin the nyc/
makin bullshit threats on the m.i.c./ I don't
wake up in cold sweats when I sleep/
[ Find more Lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.org/OPom ]I live comfortably/ with a red rag tied around the
45 in case nigga try to come for me/
mad cause I started my own company/ I don't know
what the fuck niggas want from me/
except something for free/ before the
documentary dropped, you bitch niggas
wasn't bumpin me/
and to some degree/ I gotta keep that 4-5th
under me/ I don't run from beef/
it's either cock back, squeeze, or be
underneath/ cause im from the streets
of (compton)
and my grandmother died before I was multi/
wasn't raised right cause my parents was
both high/
high off cocaine, my introduction to the dope
game came in 85 watchin soul train/
mama told me I was the future, and one day
I'll be fly like soul plane/
just don't bang/ but back then, I'd do anything
for a jerri-curl and a gold chain/
niggas always got something to say/ like
they aint never bumped n.w.a./
punk niggas talk shit, but when they need
hits they swallow their fucking pride and
come runnin to dre/
niggas come to LA when they need to talk/ cause
kanye told everybody jesus walks/
bush killed more niggas in the towers then
gangbanging ever did, that's why they
need new york/
[chorus] on the front of murder dog (he wears a)
on the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
the whole world knows (he wears a)
every nigga in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the nypd (he wears a)
why you snitch on me and tell em that (he wears a red bandana)
all the pirus know (he wears a)
even my crip niggas know (he wears a red bandana)
[outro] yeah mother fuckers
chuck taylor
o you thought I forgot about that alias huh
im going back to my roots
g-unit is dead
as a staff, a record label, and a mother fuckin group
your clothes cant sell
your shoes are straight garbage
your movies suck!
chicken little killed you nigga
hahahaha *echos*
how you like it nigga
I took yo style
I aint doin no third verse
imma just talk to you nigga
like you do when you get mad at me cause you cant
fuck with me lyrically mother fucker!!!
you gon do one of those sing song little clucky poppy hooks
you like the rap linsey lohan you fuckin faggot
write 8 balls about me nigga
I do this shit all day 50!
curtis jackson
boo boo
marcus...snitch
black wall street c. e. o. mother fuckas!
hurricanes in stores december 26th
stop snitchin stop lyin the dvd in stores december 6th
it's a tell all nigga
wait till my movie come out
im glad it aint based on my life
with that knock off 8 mile shit
you could never be eminem mother fucker
you aint lyrically inclined enough to be jay-z, nas, b.i.g. or pac
and in the modern day...today, tomorrow, next week
you cant fuck with the game nigga!
out
Lyrics: Red Bandana, The Game [end] 