The Game - Jamal

Man 1 — You got the shit?

Man 2 — What?

fuck you mean do I got the shit, nigga?

the fuck

Man 1 — Cmon, man

Man 2 — Think I’m just comin' here to bullshit?

Man 1 — Hey man, whassup man, why you gotta get all hostile n shit?

Man 2 — What?

Nigga what?

why the fuck I gotta get hostile, nigga?

Nigga is you-what?

Nigga WHAT?

In the Ghetto

I knew this wild nigga named Slim (?)

Lived his life as a sin

And packed a black Mac-10

Wore a lot of Je-wels

To show he had not

Lost his money a lot

Cross Slim (?), you get shot

A house on the hill

Where he stashed all his bills

Freak bitches on the weekends

With niggas that kill

Discuss keys at the table with 'bangers

Head-hangers

Their life before coke

That made them win dough

Now they put their work on out-of-towner drug lords

To make 'em feel their manhood

And get the things they couldn’t afford

Peep, this shit is hella

Listen to what I tell ya'

Journey with some real ghetto dwellers

I’m just, chillin' on the block

With the Glock cocked

And I got it locked

Now it’s my dope spot

The plot, was like, 3 on the dot

Get the product, duck

I’m leavin they stash spot knocked

(Put 'em up!)

Get the keys, use the gangster bitch for bait

She ran up on em screamin'

I had the infrared beamin'

And I don’t hesitate

(Why?)

It’s time to regulate

(uh-huh)

I cock back, let off three from the Tec then I break

Back to my rest

And I ain’t throw away my gun

I change clothes

In case somebody saw what I wore

When I tore that lame’s ass out the frame

Never will I come dumb

I’m just young to The Game

The same day

I was supposed to make dough

Y’know

Cut it up in slabs of Oz (?) and roll them hoes

No hesitation gots no time to get done up

The doper MY shit, the bigger MY come-up

What must I do about the envy’ing some

(Nothin')

They won’t last while I shine like the Sun

Keepin the cops all clocked

Cos the block is locked

I got a quarter-mill stack

Prayin not to get popped

Ooh it’s hot!

Niggas get mobbed, they try to stop

The clientele is deep

With powders and ready rocks with blue tops

Drop-tops and the Glock cocked

Cos what go around come around

In the city that’s hot

Spittin my man Pac (?)

On the steady block

With pushers on each corner

Went from bottom-rock to top

Killa friends that’ll rob for your rings and watch

Angel Dust to boost the high up a notch

Now times has changed

Gettin real scary

Last week I identified five in the obituaries

Little niggas want it all and enticed

To be precise — «Fuck rhymin'»

A Tec and shoot dice to be nice

Kill a nigga for the Tommy Hilfiger

Or the Polo

Shootin' game at the neighborhood Ho’s

«You better slow down»

My old head said

«You think you the baddest thing «I couldn’t turn back

(Why Not?)

No gettin out

Once I’m in it then I’m in it for life

And as it turns out

I caught that body

The cops is on scout

I can’t trust my clout

I gotta lay-low down south

I reminisce watchin' bitches suck a bone

Sick mind sittin' on a settee

So I phone home

During my rap I heard my Fam got jammed on the turf

Possession of a gram and a hammer

I hope he don’t snitch in the slammer

I be just

Coolin with my niggas on the block

Smokin weed by the cess spot

And it don’t stop

I be just

(Hahahahahahahaa

As we take ya’ll black funky asses on another journey

To the dark side

Aww shit

Jamal represents in this motherfucker

Blowin your brains on different terrains

Comin straight out of Philly as we take the Chocolate City

Onto another Era

(?) All day

All night long as we drop it to the One, Two

This is Doctor Travis, signing off

Trick bitches)