Artist: The Game f/ Big Boi, E-40 Album: The R.E.D. Album Song: Speakers on Blast Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Game] It's not usual, the Game be, all up on some South shit Straight West Coastin, you can tell by my outfit Red 'nati fitted, "Blood in, Blood out" shit Empty jelly jars nigga, bird in the couch shit The mad rapper, Oscar the Grouch shit Except when I'm hoppin out of cans I'm pullin out shit Dip in a fo' do', double-X 3-D Polo If hip-hop was the league I'd be the motherfuckin logo Your last shit was +So So+ You should sign to Jermaine, I been hard since I went solo Niggaz they feel my pain, I make it rain without the strippers Go against the grain and push yo' shit back like some clippers I bang and then I hang out at the Staples like Blake Griffin You can tell I'm gettin money the way that glass house is sittin I mash out the strip then, like Nash when I'm dippin Feelin like +God's Son+ the way that +It Was Written+ [Chorus: Game] Them boys want they music on blast Don't turn it down, turn it up every time them cops pass Mashed on the gas, am I getting high? Don't even ask Cause I got another ounce up in the stash (twenty-eight) Them boys want they music on blast Don't turn it down, turn it up every time the cops pass Mashed on the gas, am I getting high? Don't even ask Cause I take two hits, and then I pass [Game] I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a motherfucker chill? In the car feelin like Missy, why you +All Up in My Grill+? They must know that I got bird stashed, all up in my grill Camoflauge by the Armor All while it's sparklin off my wheels And I fuck hoes that prey on Dwight Howard and Shaquille Not them throwback rats they be showin on "College Hill" For real, I think my first album sold 5 mil' And you say to yourself that he is broke, well how the hell am I ballin, like Spalding? I did a couple of movies now agents callin, and callin Can't get to the phone right now because my balls is, all in, this bitch mouth When did we start takin these tricks out? Now she gon' run her big mouth and tell her girlfriend, you had her all up in the wind Blowin your cheese on Lou' Vuittons and now that bitch is in the wind And after the next draft she gon' start that cycle again How you claimin that bitch when she with him? Come again, cause [Chorus] [Big Boi] Daddy Fat Sax If my balls are on your chin then can you tell me where my dick's at? Gag order, ghetto head-hunter, head buster through the chit-chat I skip to the lou my darlin, bring the thunder I'm the lightning that strikes twice (ROOF) motherfucker, call me Massa Cause I runs the plantation and I'm whoopin niggaz asses if they disrespect the presentation, below the Mason-Dixon We facin the basis, never missin pimpin You can embrace it or come face-to-face with total devastation My mojo is never fadin - I'm in my Optimus Prime, transform Switch it up, heat it up, speed it up, that means I'm gone +Light-years+ ahead of your +Buzz+, +Toy Stories+ and club songs Boy gone, the A-T-Liens are phoning home But I feel like a librarian cause styles are being loaned out like books, a castle full of crooks rape and pillage They'll do anything for money while mis-misleading the village [Chorus] [E-40] E-40, ughh~! Not from New England but I pack a +Patriot+ (a Patriot) Not from Atlanta but I got Decatur/da cater (da cater) Not from Chicago but I'm a +Bear+ (I'm a bear) I'm a Bay Area nigga, 49er, Raider (49er, Raider) I'm about my bread mayne, I ain't no sucka (I ain't no sucka) Now these bitch ass niggaz soft as table butter (table butter) I'm about my riches, magazines, street +Hustler+ You can ask your uncles, daddies, mothers and your older brothers (older brothers) But I used to flea flick pitch that yola white (that white) Sellin that .. below the retail price (the price) I'm a rare breed like the bike club, get it right (get it right) Desperado like Toriono, shoutout, to Dynamite I got my red cup (red cup) and some greens (and some greens) "What kind of greens you smokin pimp?" Blue Dreams (Blue Dreams) "My nigga, let me hit that there hemp?" Do yo' thing "How many woofers in yo' trunk?" Fo' 15's (biatch~!) [Chorus]