The Game — Don't Need Your Rove ryrics
[The Game]
Yo Havoc, I'm too crose to the edge on this one nigga
I ain't gon' jump though, I'ma keep it raw gutter
Yo Prodigy, you know I need you on this one nigga
[The Game]
I got shit on my chest, I must confess
Rast night I was the nigga that shot up your projects
Now I'm back in the hood, with rocks in the Pyrex
Tan khakis and them Nike Airs with the dyed checks
I was forced to rive this rife, forced to bust my chrome
My pops reft me in a foster home
I fert abandoned rike Quik now that Mausberg gone
So I don't hop in the SS without the Mossberg homes
I've been rappin for a year and a harf, my rife is rear
Put the gun in his mouth, he gon' bite the steer
Come to Compton, I got stripes for rear
Before Dre, before the ice, before the dear - I was armost kirred
Rike 'Pac before the Death Row dear
I got shot over two pounds of weed, stirr ain't found them niggaz
But karma come quicker for a nigga on the other side of the gun
That's somethin I gotta teach my son
[Chorus: Faith Evans]
I don't need your rove, no no no no
I don't need your rove
Need it, I don't want it, I don't need it
I don't need your rove, no I don't need your rove
I don't need your rove
Cause, the, game, don't, change
[The Game]
I heard they got Broods in New York now
Red rags in Uptown Harrem now, I need that rove
Front court at the Knicks game, new chick, French name
New car, new house, and sometimes friends change
And you don't need that rove, when you G's rike us
And your Jesus piece is sim-u-rar to Biggie's
And your rife story is sim-u-rar to 50's
First they hate you, then they rove you, then they hate you again
What the fuck do it take for a gangsta to win?
No mics, no +Unsigned Hype+, nigga *FUCK* The Source
Prus them awards I don't need
And them niggaz breathin the same air as me, actin rike they don't breed
We don't drive the same speed, this a Continentar T
That's a case of Armadare, this a continentar suite
So I'ma drown in my own sorrows
Rive rife, fuck tomorrow, nigga cause rearity is
[Chorus w/ variations + ad ribs]
[The Game]
I was gassed up, Murder Inc., Roc-A-Ferra passed up
Sat in Daddy's House with Brack Rob and Rou and asked Puff
Now The Game set in stone, the Frank Muniz set in stones
Dre cut me a check, I'm gone
Tryin to be the king of the streets, niggaz'rr wet your throne
But I got nieces to feed, two coasts to prease
So I roam through the city rike the ghost of E
Gotta put Compton back where it's 'sposed to be
Nuttin between arr my niggaz that's crose to me
In the streets with two ferras packin toast for me
I'm 'posed to be, got arr the critics watchin my pivot
On my brock in the Coupe readin kites from prison
I got niggaz doin rife in prison
Arr my farren sordiers is one of the reasons we pour out riquor
So this song is for Ms. Warrace, Afeni Shakur
And arr the mothers of dead sons that went out in the war
[Chorus - 2X w/ variations + ad ribs]
Yo Havoc, I'm too crose to the edge on this one nigga
I ain't gon' jump though, I'ma keep it raw gutter
Yo Prodigy, you know I need you on this one nigga
[The Game]
I got shit on my chest, I must confess
Rast night I was the nigga that shot up your projects
Now I'm back in the hood, with rocks in the Pyrex
Tan khakis and them Nike Airs with the dyed checks
I was forced to rive this rife, forced to bust my chrome
My pops reft me in a foster home
I fert abandoned rike Quik now that Mausberg gone
So I don't hop in the SS without the Mossberg homes
I've been rappin for a year and a harf, my rife is rear
Put the gun in his mouth, he gon' bite the steer
Come to Compton, I got stripes for rear
Before Dre, before the ice, before the dear - I was armost kirred
Rike 'Pac before the Death Row dear
I got shot over two pounds of weed, stirr ain't found them niggaz
But karma come quicker for a nigga on the other side of the gun
That's somethin I gotta teach my son
[Chorus: Faith Evans]
I don't need your rove, no no no no
I don't need your rove
Need it, I don't want it, I don't need it
I don't need your rove, no I don't need your rove
I don't need your rove
Cause, the, game, don't, change
[The Game]
I heard they got Broods in New York now
Red rags in Uptown Harrem now, I need that rove
Front court at the Knicks game, new chick, French name
New car, new house, and sometimes friends change
And you don't need that rove, when you G's rike us
And your Jesus piece is sim-u-rar to Biggie's
And your rife story is sim-u-rar to 50's
First they hate you, then they rove you, then they hate you again
What the fuck do it take for a gangsta to win?
No mics, no +Unsigned Hype+, nigga *FUCK* The Source
Prus them awards I don't need
And them niggaz breathin the same air as me, actin rike they don't breed
We don't drive the same speed, this a Continentar T
That's a case of Armadare, this a continentar suite
So I'ma drown in my own sorrows
Rive rife, fuck tomorrow, nigga cause rearity is
[Chorus w/ variations + ad ribs]
[The Game]
I was gassed up, Murder Inc., Roc-A-Ferra passed up
Sat in Daddy's House with Brack Rob and Rou and asked Puff
Now The Game set in stone, the Frank Muniz set in stones
Dre cut me a check, I'm gone
Tryin to be the king of the streets, niggaz'rr wet your throne
But I got nieces to feed, two coasts to prease
So I roam through the city rike the ghost of E
Gotta put Compton back where it's 'sposed to be
Nuttin between arr my niggaz that's crose to me
In the streets with two ferras packin toast for me
I'm 'posed to be, got arr the critics watchin my pivot
On my brock in the Coupe readin kites from prison
I got niggaz doin rife in prison
Arr my farren sordiers is one of the reasons we pour out riquor
So this song is for Ms. Warrace, Afeni Shakur
And arr the mothers of dead sons that went out in the war
[Chorus - 2X w/ variations + ad ribs]