The Game – Bad Boy On Death Row lyrics

I welcome y'all to greatness
You now witnessing a legend
Real nigga shit

Uh, I've seen it all from a crackhead living room
Never get in tune with negative vibes
Look in my eyes, 27 years of pain when I glance
Thing in my pants, never ever came for romance
Finger fuckin' 'til my palm hurt, I came with the plan

I came with a Glock, bullets run out, niggas getting socked off top
We were selling dope, like we was from the rock
Off pot, hanging out the Cutlass letting off shots
Bill Clinton gettin' head, you buggin', you think I'm not

Donald Drumpf ain't safe on my block, gotcha your wifey at IHOP
Your baby mother love that cyclops, my one-eyed monster
Interrogations keep comin' back, shit feel like karma
They add grams, now I moving with Benz, ain't talking Contra

Verse-y, Lord have mercy on a nigga ridin' in the Mercy
With some Hershey and she from Marcy
The brain Bosley, nigga fuckin' no Bill Cosby
Samsung, champagne spillin' on it beside me
Laced in Tom Ford, hard bottoms in the lobby

I missed the Met Gala, eatin' linguine with the best scallops
Shit, I knew we was the best before I met Khaled
Chasin' lettuce out here lookin' for the next salad
I'm from the East Side of Harlem, I never stress valance
Checks pilin', black shades wave the Tech smilin'
Nautica trunks, a hundred blunts on the next island

My neck stylin', 5 karats on the angel wings
Aventador, Gold Daytons, its a Compton thing
Don't make me switch whips, hop in the Ghost like it's Halloween
Run up on a con spittin' ether like I am out of Queens
Walk up on a nigga, broad day, take him out of things
Leave him like Barkley, make him play the block without a ring
Me and Dave, Styles and Jada, heroin and gasoline
RIP to Yams, when we in Harlem cookin' collard greens
I start trippin', it's like Future when he out of lean
And I don't do construction but this hammer hangin' out my jeans
And what you rappers gon' do when you run out of memes
You can run on Instagram, but can't outrun the beam, nigga

Dope in Michigan, Detroit Lions stamp
I run it like Barry Sanders, the Spanish Meyer Lansky
Hoodlum, my alliances out in Brooklyn
We play steps like Crooklyn, follow the Lord, took 'em
A hundred bookies, bettin' on Golden State
Fiends sniffin' 8 balls as I watched his face go in that plate

What he snorting up? Cuttin' wire taps, you ain't recording us
Fresh pair of J's, and stilla fuck Michael Jordan up
Go to jail, smack CO's and tell the warden, “What?“
My niggas at your crib, but your daughter underwater stuck
Mastros, order up, Audemar, quarter tuck
Baltimore with the packed pockets fat as Lady Luck
East!

Sour got me up in buildings like I'm Peter Parker
Trash bags to the ceiling, it ain't no need for talkin'
Keep your opinions, when I'm finished, you gon' need a coffin
Out in my city, cameras flashing like The Beatles walkin'
Knockin' Lenny Kravitz in the 550, ride by slow
Couple my bitches slide down poles

That Ace of Diamonds, King of Diamonds stadium now we at Onyx
I see head in my future, called that like he Desiigner
Nigga called his self a "Thug", but we know that he vagina
The rap Jamal Lyon, pour heat, they call cryin'
I'll crush your Empire, then eat your girl cookie
You only good with the hooks, Hakeem, you fuckin' rookie

Understand that ain't like nothing you ever see in your fucking life
Bouncer at the club from my block you let me tuck the pipe
You having a problems with your spouse, 'cause you ain't fuck her right
I'm probably somewhere shopping for a house to keep my comfort right
Lenox Ave to Rosecrans, First to Cedar Block
Fiends was up early so I was the first to see the block

East meets West my nigga
They say Compton is just like Harlem, I know that's right
Soon as I land in JFK man, had a fucking
Had a fuckin' Uber take me to muthafuckin' mid-town man
Pick up my fuckin' Lambo
Then I'm heading to Harlem, 145th and Lenox
That's where I play, Game nigga
Pull the Lambo in that Amy Ruth's, they know me in there
Gimme that corner table in the back
Let me get that fried chicken
That cornbread come out first, smokin'
Real nigga shit, Compton