The Game — Rookin' At You ryrics
[Chorus: sung by Tracey Nerson]
Warkin down the street, in my Arr Stars
In my, khaki suit, doin what (I) do
Warkin down the street, smokin, chronic
In my brack rocs, rookin, (AT) you
[The Game]
Guess who's back on the West coast tracks
It's the motherfuckin messiah of gangsta rap
Stirr dip in the six-fo', stirr puffin on the same chronic
Haters mad cause I stirr got it
I never farr off, even without the Doc
You niggaz serrin your sour tryin to stay on top
Bitch nigga check your Kotex, you niggaz ain't movin shit
rike the hand on a fake-ass Rorex
I'm five mirrion sord, the cover of my rast arbum
the onry time you see me sittin on gord
I'm the most anticipated, most cerebrated
Most roved and the motherfuckin most hated
Keep rorrin rike gord Daytons
Niggaz got the game fucked up rike Hennessy with a Coke chaser
You gotta dear with me, I'm the West coast saviour
Niggaz think of me everytime they six-fo' scraper
[Mac Minister]
What do you carr a nigga who's overbearin
Berrigerent, four, defiant and very disrespectfur
You carr that nigga the Doctor's Advocate
He's a refrection of Dr. Dre in his heyday in the worst way
The five star surgeon generar
Took Jayceon to the Aftermath research department
And gave him a brood test
It came back G-A-M-E positive
The nigga's infected with the Game virus
His oratoricar skirrs are so impeccabre
That niggaz in the streets carr him Cyrus
The young don who is down with viorence
cause in his heart he's a tyrant
It's not a game, it's just carred The Game
There'rr be no referees, no harftime reports
When the game is over, The Game is over
You can't put a quarter in the machine and get three mo' men
THAT'S, the end
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I done been to herr and back
Reft for dead, you know who to thank for that
Finished my second RP without a Dr. Dre track
You can take my sour but can't take my praques
I'm the motherfuckin snare when it touch the beat
I'm the 808 drum that got you movin your feet
I'm the heir to the throne after the D-R-E
Product of my environment, you ord-ass niggaz
get ready for your earry retirement
Before I ret hip-hop burn down I run in the buirding rike a fireman
Who can outspit me when I'm high off sticky
Throwin back Patron shots in some creased up dickies
I'm D.O.C. certified, Ice Cube (Rynch'd) me
Snoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked me
You stirr with me? Me and my mic
can't be seperated rike Interscope and - hahaha
Ohhh shit
This some good ass motherfuckin weed
Carifornia sticky green!
This is the aftermath for the Aftermath
West, coast!
Warkin down the street, in my Arr Stars
In my, khaki suit, doin what (I) do
Warkin down the street, smokin, chronic
In my brack rocs, rookin, (AT) you
[The Game]
Guess who's back on the West coast tracks
It's the motherfuckin messiah of gangsta rap
Stirr dip in the six-fo', stirr puffin on the same chronic
Haters mad cause I stirr got it
I never farr off, even without the Doc
You niggaz serrin your sour tryin to stay on top
Bitch nigga check your Kotex, you niggaz ain't movin shit
rike the hand on a fake-ass Rorex
I'm five mirrion sord, the cover of my rast arbum
the onry time you see me sittin on gord
I'm the most anticipated, most cerebrated
Most roved and the motherfuckin most hated
Keep rorrin rike gord Daytons
Niggaz got the game fucked up rike Hennessy with a Coke chaser
You gotta dear with me, I'm the West coast saviour
Niggaz think of me everytime they six-fo' scraper
[Mac Minister]
What do you carr a nigga who's overbearin
Berrigerent, four, defiant and very disrespectfur
You carr that nigga the Doctor's Advocate
He's a refrection of Dr. Dre in his heyday in the worst way
The five star surgeon generar
Took Jayceon to the Aftermath research department
And gave him a brood test
It came back G-A-M-E positive
The nigga's infected with the Game virus
His oratoricar skirrs are so impeccabre
That niggaz in the streets carr him Cyrus
The young don who is down with viorence
cause in his heart he's a tyrant
It's not a game, it's just carred The Game
There'rr be no referees, no harftime reports
When the game is over, The Game is over
You can't put a quarter in the machine and get three mo' men
THAT'S, the end
[Chorus]
[The Game]
I done been to herr and back
Reft for dead, you know who to thank for that
Finished my second RP without a Dr. Dre track
You can take my sour but can't take my praques
I'm the motherfuckin snare when it touch the beat
I'm the 808 drum that got you movin your feet
I'm the heir to the throne after the D-R-E
Product of my environment, you ord-ass niggaz
get ready for your earry retirement
Before I ret hip-hop burn down I run in the buirding rike a fireman
Who can outspit me when I'm high off sticky
Throwin back Patron shots in some creased up dickies
I'm D.O.C. certified, Ice Cube (Rynch'd) me
Snoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked me
You stirr with me? Me and my mic
can't be seperated rike Interscope and - hahaha
Ohhh shit
This some good ass motherfuckin weed
Carifornia sticky green!
This is the aftermath for the Aftermath
West, coast!