Featuring: Shyne Pharrell Williams
Songwriter: The Game Shyne Pharrell Williams
Producer: The Neptunes
[Verse 1: The Game]
Far as dough, I'm stuffed with cash, popping like fuckle tags
Rappin' in Belize, Louis Vuitton duffle bags
Guess who home, my nigga Shyne
Straight out the brick house to a brick house
Money flowin' like it's Cristal
Shine on it swiss styles, I'm hood as Kid Styles
My Clair Bomber jacket perfect for the pit stop, it is now
You boys don't want none, release on the blood Glock
They here by, they go numb
Goin' plan no. 1 with the gang no. 2
Start track no. 3 back to ypee MV
(Gots the chill) While I stack a mill to the ceiling
Ten gangstas outside, meeting gangstas in the building
One nigga can't stop this motherfuckin' killin'
Hell on earth the repercussion, if blood is spilt on my children
Cowboys and Indians, motherfuck the pilgrims
Infiltrate my squad near every cat buildin'
[Hook: (Pharrell) The Game]
(They don't want none)
Don't make a nigga pull Glocks and bust shots
Spin that black ghost around the block
(They don't need none)
We got pills for days
Give a bitch chills and thrills for days
Know I mean?
(Let 'em have some)
Ace of Spades by the fountains
Kush by the ounces, marijuana mountains
(In a week I'm)
We bringin' the funk
Yo B, let 'em know
Money Gang uh
[Verse 2: Shyne]
Fish out the cooker, bein' busy for the pussy
In the kitchen with the cook of blood yea, then you rough us
You fuckin' hookers, y'all a bunch of Ashton Kutcher's
With the finger tag backs, you ain't jackin' that
Yo Game, I'm laughin' at these coppers turned shoters, imagine that
You're mad a fuckin' life happen at
You's the only one there, I swear
Stuck the blood clut cryin'
I'm in Belize with Game when these shots fired in this silence
Y'all motherfuckaz singin'
I've see the paperwork, you a fuckin' pigeon, no kidding
Count clood to the ceilin'
George Jackson shit, Vic, Vag, villain
Hopin' every cell they creepin'
County fuckin' with me, I'm the best livin'
(They don't want none)
Don't make a nigga pull Glocks in the shots
Spin that black ghost around the block
[Hook: (Pharrell) The Game]
(They don't need none)
We got pills for days
Give a bitch chills and thrills for days
Know I mean?
(Let 'em have some)
Ace of Spades by the fountains
Kush by the ounces, marijuana mountains
(In a week I'm)
We bringin' the funk
Yo B, let 'em know
Money Gang uh
[Verse 3: The Game]
Check it, what the blood clot?
Nigga blood got Ferrari's and Lambo's parked outside the drug spot
Survived five shots, you know that
When bitch niggas died, they cried
Cause they had to pay for that
Payers took it, where the blow at?
I just won a hundred racks on blackjack and you know I'm 'bout to blow that
They don't make real niggas where you from
Sick 45, I'm 'bout to finger fuck the trigga till them hollows come
Talk shit? Swallow one
You fuckin' move me
I disrespect niggas like in old Italian movies
I'm sayin', I live, you ready
I come in the restaurant with my shirt off and spit in your fuckin' spaghetti sauce
Boss, my pocket's fatter than my nigga Ross
Wipe this spilled Patron off my mouth with my Louis glove
Understand?
I'm a California felon
Bust your cerebellum, skateboard go and tell 'em
[Hook: (Pharrell) The Game]
(They don't want none)
Don't make a nigga pull Glocks in the shots
Spin that black ghost around the block
(They don't need none)
We got pills for days
Give a bitch chills and thrills for days
Know I mean?
(Let 'em have some)
Ace of Spades by the fountains
Kush by the ounces, marijuana mountains
(In a week I'm)
We bringin' the funk
Yo B, let 'em know
Money Gang
Far as dough, I'm stuffed with cash, popping like fuckle tags
Rappin' in Belize, Louis Vuitton duffle bags
Guess who home, my nigga Shyne
Straight out the brick house to a brick house
Money flowin' like it's Cristal
Shine on it swiss styles, I'm hood as Kid Styles
My Clair Bomber jacket perfect for the pit stop, it is now
You boys don't want none, release on the blood Glock
They here by, they go numb
Goin' plan no. 1 with the gang no. 2
Start track no. 3 back to ypee MV
(Gots the chill) While I stack a mill to the ceiling
Ten gangstas outside, meeting gangstas in the building
One nigga can't stop this motherfuckin' killin'
Hell on earth the repercussion, if blood is spilt on my children
Cowboys and Indians, motherfuck the pilgrims
Infiltrate my squad near every cat buildin'
[Hook: (Pharrell) The Game]
(They don't want none)
Don't make a nigga pull Glocks and bust shots
Spin that black ghost around the block
(They don't need none)
We got pills for days
Give a bitch chills and thrills for days
Know I mean?
(Let 'em have some)
Ace of Spades by the fountains
Kush by the ounces, marijuana mountains
(In a week I'm)
We bringin' the funk
Yo B, let 'em know
Money Gang uh
[Verse 2: Shyne]
Fish out the cooker, bein' busy for the pussy
In the kitchen with the cook of blood yea, then you rough us
You fuckin' hookers, y'all a bunch of Ashton Kutcher's
With the finger tag backs, you ain't jackin' that
Yo Game, I'm laughin' at these coppers turned shoters, imagine that
You're mad a fuckin' life happen at
You's the only one there, I swear
Stuck the blood clut cryin'
I'm in Belize with Game when these shots fired in this silence
Y'all motherfuckaz singin'
I've see the paperwork, you a fuckin' pigeon, no kidding
Count clood to the ceilin'
George Jackson shit, Vic, Vag, villain
Hopin' every cell they creepin'
County fuckin' with me, I'm the best livin'
(They don't want none)
Don't make a nigga pull Glocks in the shots
Spin that black ghost around the block
[Hook: (Pharrell) The Game]
(They don't need none)
We got pills for days
Give a bitch chills and thrills for days
Know I mean?
(Let 'em have some)
Ace of Spades by the fountains
Kush by the ounces, marijuana mountains
(In a week I'm)
We bringin' the funk
Yo B, let 'em know
Money Gang uh
[Verse 3: The Game]
Check it, what the blood clot?
Nigga blood got Ferrari's and Lambo's parked outside the drug spot
Survived five shots, you know that
When bitch niggas died, they cried
Cause they had to pay for that
Payers took it, where the blow at?
I just won a hundred racks on blackjack and you know I'm 'bout to blow that
They don't make real niggas where you from
Sick 45, I'm 'bout to finger fuck the trigga till them hollows come
Talk shit? Swallow one
You fuckin' move me
I disrespect niggas like in old Italian movies
I'm sayin', I live, you ready
I come in the restaurant with my shirt off and spit in your fuckin' spaghetti sauce
Boss, my pocket's fatter than my nigga Ross
Wipe this spilled Patron off my mouth with my Louis glove
Understand?
I'm a California felon
Bust your cerebellum, skateboard go and tell 'em
[Hook: (Pharrell) The Game]
(They don't want none)
Don't make a nigga pull Glocks in the shots
Spin that black ghost around the block
(They don't need none)
We got pills for days
Give a bitch chills and thrills for days
Know I mean?
(Let 'em have some)
Ace of Spades by the fountains
Kush by the ounces, marijuana mountains
(In a week I'm)
We bringin' the funk
Yo B, let 'em know
Money Gang
more tracks from the album
California Republic
- Bottles and Rocking J’s
- God Speed
- The Logo
- Roll My Shit
- Mean Muggin
- Tonight
- Yonkers Freestyle
- She Want To Have My Baby
- They Don’t Want None
- Pussy Money Weed
- Death Penalty
- Cats and Dogs
- Greystone
- Bills Is Paid
- Skate On
- It Must Be Tough
- Red Bottom Boss
- Come Up
- When My Niggas Come Home
- The Drill
- Now That I’m Paid
- Hit The J
- The Best Revenge
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- California Republic (2012)
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