Back to the previous page

Artist: The Game f/ Lupe Fiasco
Album:  California Republic Mixtape
Song:   Skate On
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash

The G-A-M-E, whattup man?
(Stars on the Trak) Yessir!
Aww (Lupe and me, red Ferrari)
(Two-thousand and ten, in-fin-ity)

[Lupe Fiasco]
Where the Almighty low, well alrighty then
I'm all mighty hoe, call me mighty Joe Quinn
With Josephine Baker in the Benz
On them shiny toes, glass slipper niggaz
with your Cinderalla chins (pow~!) I'm a shark in the water
You see my flippers and my fins
The pool is my palace, go on send them niggaz in
Rocks tar, lets take the Bentley for a swim
I run the world take your hood to the gym
Stretch it all out, and get it all thin
Back on my fat shit, get it all again
Rap on my back bitch, hip-hop on my brim
You think you're high now?
Well thy style's no higher than my eyebrows - it should be a sin
Cleanse! Flow clear kinda like how air look
or like a Cinderella pair look
Or like Cinderella barefoot...
No matter how many ankles of crews
The moral of the story you can't fill my shoes
(Who?) Lu!

[The Game]
Mass murderer! And the last verse from Lupe, touché
Ferrari drop top, but it came with a toupee
Niggaz say they got cars like us, but do they?
Rap Phantoms, pack tandem and strippers from Atlanta
Menage-a-trois let 'em fuck; I'll watch
Stay on my J-O, Roley when I'm punchin the clock
Up on the block, everything mine I, stay on my grind
Chasin dollar signs, bumpin +Nas+, it's "Halftime"
And I'm the G-A, money sign easy nigga
Don't want shit for free but, Weezy nigga
Load the Glock up, cops pop up
You can go to Iraq, take all the straps, come back and couldn't stop us
Aston with the top kush, paint job rock dust
Hand what I got in the trunk'll get us all locked up
So fuck niggaz and I'm talkin from behind the trigger
Now come get a nigga, cause I'm sick of niggaz

[Chorus: The Game] + (Lupe Fiasco)
Hatin on me, you wastin your time
Nigga wanna kill me? Then go stand in that line
Kill that shit, I ain't tryin to hear that shit
I know you hear that shit, so nigga
(Skate on, skate on) wit'cha your bullshit
(Skate on, skate on) Lupe tell 'em nigga
(S-s-skate on, skate on)
(Me and my niggaz tryin to stay on, so skate on)

[The Game]
Usually wake up early like them Philly niggaz
In the weed spot, rollin kush A-R, go get a Phillie nigga
First smoke or not, we swimmin in hard rock
We push it out all spots 'til they get us up off blocks
Straight for the 'bout pops, then bag it and bang LOX
Watch for the top cops cause we nourish our own crops
Smokin like blood claats inside of the drug spot
Rotate 'em like Van Gundy, big man on the block
Don't worry bout my residentials, or my credentials
My flow a cocktail, through a Def Jam window
That's for Shakur, I'm the rapper niggaz fear
No need for Craig Mack to kick the +Flava in Ya Ear+
Keep the Lambo' in fifth gear, catch me on a sunny day
Paint drippin like Lil Weezy in Baby tears
King of L.A. I think I made it clear
Ain't nobody outsellin five except Eminem and Dre this year


[The Game]
Now I've been rappin for nine years, four months, forty-five
forty-six, forty-seven seconds, I was Dr. Dre's weapon
Had the option to stay, and kept swervin
Made some rookie mistakes, but so did Kyrie Irving
If 50 was Lebron on a bad night
or Floyd Mayweather when Manny Pacquiao did his jab right
I fucked a bad bitch but that was last night
And I ain't gon' say no names but she be singin, and her ass tight
This year I'm gettin my cash right, thirty years old
Let Drake or Soulja Boy live fast life
Who ever said The Game whack, change that, 'fore the thang clap
Niggaz fucked up rap, I bought the flame back
Couple albums later, still the same cat
And my P.O., only motherfucker thinkin that I ain't strapped
Next time you doubt me I'ma have my accountant down South me
You can do this rap shit without me
I'm out G, in that twenty-eleven Audi
Twenty-two Pirellis oiled up like the Saudis
About to pick Lupe up from the hotel
Yo Pharrell, let 'em know