Released: November 14, 2006

Featuring: Junior Reid Jim Jones Snoop Dogg Nas T.I. Fat Joe Lil Wayne N.O.R.E. Jadakiss Styles P Fabolous Juelz Santana Rick Ross Twista Tha Dogg Pound WC E-40 Bun B Chamillionaire Slim Thug Young Dro Clipse Ja Rule

Songwriter: The Game Bun B Snoop Dogg Twista T.I. Young Dro Styles P Daz Dillinger Lil Wayne E-40 Chamillionaire Jadakiss Ja Rule Fabolous Fat Joe No Malice Jim Jones Juelz Santana Nas Kurupt Slim Thug Pusha T N.O.R.E. Rick Ross WC

Producer: Reefa

[Intro: Jim Jones & Junior Reid]
(Blood) Uh-huh, Jones
(Blood hunt) Dipset, Byrdgang, bitch!
Ha, you know what it is
When you see me two twelvin' you, homie (that's right)
You fuck niggas keep triple ninin' (Eastside)
Have some integrity, bitch
'Fore it get tech-mangy out here, smell me? (Ballin'!)
(One blood, one blood, one blood, one blood, one blood)

[Verse 1: Jim Jones]
Peace Blood, peace Almighty (Peace Blood!)
We all thugs and we run the streets nightly (Eastside!)
And get my lawyer; why? 'Cause I ain't coppin' out (Nope!)
And I fuck with B-boys that bring them choppers out
One shot of that'll have the boys bring the coppers out
And we ballin', foreign toys what we hoppin' out (Flossing!)
My fair Eastside, where we ride
And we all fly high in the Lear G5s (Ballin'!)
So twist your fingers up and bang, motherfucker, bang! (Nine-Trey!)
Get your money up, this 'caine is what we fuckin' slang (Gotta hustle!)
And Nine-Trey is what I fuckin' claim (Ugh!)
It's Dipset Capo, the don of the Byrdgang (Eastside!)

[Verse 2: Snoop Dogg]
They call me D-O-dub, wasn't really trippin', cuz
Twenty-one, twenty Crips and all of us is Crippin', cuz
We from a different street, all got that different heat
But when we move the Macs
When Game come, we on the same beat
So if you fuck with Blood, then you fuck with us
And we ain't bustin' duds, 'cause we bustin' slugs
Be sure to stay in touch and clean your mess up
And if you from the West Coast, my nigga, W-W-W-W-West up!

[Verse 3: Nas]
Game got at me about the remix, it's a honor, my nigga
I made rap one blood, Nasir signin' with Jigga
I got rappers gettin' mad at me
I got these new jack rappers tryin' to clap at me
I got these corny wannabe diss song kings on the radio
Talk about how they gon' spray and take me away
But I'm the true living legend, I'm not to be questioned
Have your whole hood holla shit about my progression

[Verse 4: T.I.]
YEAH!
You knowin' my attitude shitty (Okay) only a buck fifty
So I keep the Smittys with me—shit, how many getting it?
(Hey, what you scared?) I'm prepared in the mall and all
With two-twos, you can call me Quick Draw McGraw (Haha!)
You try me, I'ma cut that fool, better call the law
I start sprayin', make fuck niggas fall and crawl (Bow! Bow!)
I press play like Puff, no pause at all
Choppin' holes in all the walls, that's all they saw, hey!

[Verse 5: The Game]
Hip-hop ain't dead, it just took a couple shots
I bring it back to life, give it a couple shocks
The king comin', no, I'm not Jay-Z
Too many niggas hate me, but they scared to face me
This ain't a movie, dawg (Nope!) not Waist Deep
I'm not a actor but I'll show your bitch big meat
She givin' one blood, one love, on dubs
A hundred forty thousand the first week, ugh!

[Hook: The Game]
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix (Remix!)

[Verse 6: Fat Joe]
All these niggas wanna front trill with them stiff faces
'Til them niggas lyin' still up in stiff cases
With the Styrofoam and embalmin' fluid
I been gone too long, and I'm dying to lose it
Somebody go and get this nigga a pine box
And I ain't just talkin' 'bout a measly nine shots
Yeah I'm chopper-happy and my wrist loose
Call me Goldie, I'll smack a bitch too

[Verse 7: Lil Wayne]
504 gangsta, New Orleans soldier
Bangin' underwater, fuck around and soak ya
Louisiana gunner, I'm 'bout my holster
And if you gettin' greasy, I'm an ulcer
I'm bickin' back, bein' bool, on the Eastside
Of New Orleans where the Bloods at the B-hive
Ain't nothin' sweet unless it's Presidential
'Cause that is where I sleep, now give me my key

[Verse 8: N.O.R.E.]
New York, get the blood money (Dirty cash!), still sweet
We the Black Wall Street by the swap meet with heat
Def Jam, they gon' flop him
And Reggaeton ain't hot in the building no more
It's OKAY! I get it poppin'
Back to the forest trees for deep, these little mes
Who took believers a opportunity to breathe
And you ain't gotta go overseas to see Iraq shit
You can come to LeFrak, Queens and get jacked quick

[Verse 9: Jadakiss & Styles P]
One blood, we used to the spillin'
Came from the hood so we used to the killin'
Used to the black males makin' crack sales in the building
How else you get the Benz with the suede on the ceiling?
Blood in, Blood out, me and homie back-to-back
Boatload of work and we about to pitch a shut out
I'm New York's king, I'm New York's hardest nigga
Anything in between's a motherfuckin' target, nigga
D-B-L-O-C-K, he spray
The hawk'll find a nice home right where your cheeks stay
We got a mean team, hip-hop's dream team
Them boys is only in the projects on green screen
Yeah, no security, I'll put you on the respirator
I'm the bomb; I'm the motherfuckin' detonator
One dutch, one bud, one burner, one slug
Want a couple casualties, but we'll settle for just...
(One blood!)

[Verse 10: Fabolous]
(What it look like?) All I say at most
Shooters waitin' on the word, "Just say it, Los!"
I let these niggas live (Yes!), I told 'em pull the plug
Have them goons pullin' gloves, leave the room full of slugs (Yes!)
Catch me traffickin' on maroon-colored dubs (Yes!)
Couple Africans with balloons full of drugs (Yes!)
If they like me, tell 'em line up
While I sit behind ten and point 'em out like a line-up

[Verse 11: Juelz Santana]
Mic check, one two, one two (Check!)
I'm strapped, you strapped, let's play two-on-two (Let's go!)
You're eyein' us in the iron bus (Boom!)
Leak you, two liters of red juice: Hawaiian Punch (Ha!)
So what you boys gon' do to me? (What?)
I'm born street, your life's sweet: MTV's Laguna Beach (Damn!)
Mama told me not to play with fire
But she never told me I would grow to be a lighter

[Verse 12: Rick Ross]
One love to the gangs (Yeah!), but I'm in the things
Save the colors for the cars, see, we kill for the fame (Ross!)
The boss made it, yeah, we floss flagrant
Shame how I lost your life savings up in Las Vegas (Ross!)
I'm a heavy better, I'm a heavy seller (Tell 'em)
Keep white in the office, call it Jerry Heller
Lettin' off a hundred rounds (Rounds), let the barrel pick (Pick)
And we gon' sit here and wait for the Darryl case

[Verse 13: Twista]
Chi got Lords and Gangsters, show me where them niggas at
Chi got Two Sixes and Kings, show me where them killas at
Chi got them ballers and hustlers, show me where them figures at
Game, where them triggers at? Aim at them fitted caps
He got the clips, I got the scope, let's get them choppas, nigga!
He got the kush, I got the dope, let's get it poppin', nigga!
Hurt him in that cherry six-four, shit, ain't no stoppin', nigga
Hit him in the head and the body with a bullet
When I put him in the cemetery then I gotta holla out

[Hook: The Game]
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix (Remix!)

[Verse 14: Kurupt & Daz]
What up, Cuz? Yeah, rollin' with two grips
Glock holdin' on the hip, rollin' with two clips
Got two tiny locos ready to take trips
Shake and make trips, high stakes to take grips (Grip)
But they know what's crackin', cuz, 'cause as we huddle (Ayy!)
They hold cards down, nigga, like spades and pinochle (Nigga)
West Coast gangbang, riders erasin' 'em
Got funny niggas raisin' up and riders replacin' 'em, cuz

[Verse 15: Daz Dillinger]
Draped in blue, notorious gangsta crew
R.I.P. for niggas who don't stay true
Deep down in the crevices (Woo!), see, them checks better win
Dwellin' in the land of the gangbang profession
I'm legendary, yes, yes, a West Coaster
Throwin' up two Cs with two guns in my holster (Woo!)
I'm from Long Beach City, a Crip next to Compton
Down with my nigga, Game, if you niggas want problems
From the streets to the suites, anywhere, we can meet
Del Amo to Compton, Slauson Swap Meet
Worldwide (Wide), get swept away by the tide
YGs and BGs, OGs, it's time to ride!

[Verse 16: WC]
Who the riders shooting through the gutter lane?
Trued up in them Carolina blue Hurricanes (What up Blood?)
From the Westside, strivin' to dead 'em
Where them killers throw that third letter up
Like Raymond Washington and Tookie Williams
Blue jeans, blue strings, blowin' blueberry green
Cadillac on blue Ds and a blue tee
Money thick as blue cheese, chuckin' up the dub
What the West be without Snoop and Dub C and one blood?

[Verse 17: E-40]
The Bay Area, fuckers, we pop 'em
Open you up if you got a problem (Ahhhh!)
Up top, born in California
Clean your clock, open your can of tuna (Doot-doot-doot!)
Make a choice, it's either Hell or it's Heaven
Get your chest laid out with the FN-57 (Bo! Bo! Bo!)
This ain't nothin' to do with nobody
In the Yay, there ain't nothin' to do but catch bodies

[Hook: The Game]
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix (Remix!)

[Verse 18: Bun B]
I'm comin' straight up outta P-A-T like Compton in all black
But when we say "What it do?", they never say, "Holla back!"
Bun Beeda, I'm OG, like '95 Air Max
Neon green outta Flight Club off of Fairfax
Ask the Hundreds, it's doable, I done done it
At the summit of rap, and I'm watchin' you haters plummet
Run to it or run from it, to Bun, it don't differ
Wipe the streets with ya like you a Swiffer as a gift
One blood

[Verse 19: Chamillionaire]
I'm the realest youngsta that's breathin'
And I don't gotta give a reason
Chamillionaire a millionaire, y'all competin' to be competin'
My purpose is to get the cheese
And that's a purpose that you're defeatin'
So shut your mouth, have a seat and be quiet 'til I'm finished eatin'
My label tells me I'm greedy, hoggin' all the room on your TV
Like Eric, they think it's Eazy but it isn't easy, believe me
Need to make a room in B.E.Television if you wanna be me
Game said he made room for Jeezy, I had to make room for me, G

[Verse 20: Slim Thug]
It's one blood if you Blood or Cuz
From that number one Thug, it's still one love
I rep my blue boy team, but I do it for green
I do it for my Folks, Vice Lords and Kings
All the trappers, future rappers, standin' out on the blocks
Tryna get up out the hood, man, and stack up a knot
Put your sets in the air, scream, "Fuck the cops!" (Word, fuck 'em)
We gon' rep for the hood, man, like it or not (Thugga!)

[Verse 21: Young Dro]
My feed mashable, murders are catastrophical (Okay)
Cars is improbable, I'm overcomin' obstacles (Okay)
Trappin', I made it logical (Okay), my topic is impossible (Okay)
I got a partner named Shoe Strang 'cause shorty real crossable
Shark meat to Pappadeaux, cars be tropical (Yeah, yeah)
All guns choppable, all blocks are mobbable (Yeah, okay!)
I'm unstoppable, my Calico is toxable
Lyrically diabolical, kushin' is now cigarable (What it is!)

[Verse 22: Malice & Pusha T]
Redrum, redrum, such power in the tongue
Never in the wildest, wasn't talkin' to them
Style on niggas but feel it to the numb
Japanese thread, brought flavor to these bums
Consider me the savior, look what the Lord gave ya
My celebrated presence like the return of Rayful
Frolic in the snow so playful
And revivin' the track like we flowin' through jumper cables
What duo you know
Get XXL kudos while coppin' off Julio?
Yeah, classic shit, we mastered this
Left for dead, I'm back, I'm Lazarus

[Hook: The Game]
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix
Remix, remix, remix (Remix!)

[Verse 23: Ja Rule]
Nigga, one Crip, one Blood, L.A., New York
The Game, the Rule, one love, guns up
Hands down, can't touch the flow, it's a bit much
The style, wanna keep up? I'd advise you to speed up
With money movin' like coke these days gotta re-up
G up, cop some heaters and dare a nigga to act up
You see us in dual-seaters and throw it up
It's all hood, niggas, rep your sets if you Cuz or (Blood!)
Niggas, we all bleed!
These niggas can't breathe!
Only because the guns are drawn and aimed to part
Niggas that got bullets with names on them
Want 'em? Come get 'em! Niggas, y'all know where to get at me
Look at me, now pass me, maybe you can be half me
You bastards, I'm laughin', bullets stickin' in family
Who sadly gets torn between one Crip and one (Blood!)

[Outro: Ja Rule]
Y'all niggas know me, haha, yeah!

The Game

Jayceon Terrell Taylor was born November 29th, 1979 in Compton, California to two Crip-affiliated gang members. He grew up on Santana Blocc, a Crip-controlled neighborhood, with a large family of half and step siblings. He was hardened by a rough and violent childhood stinting from his parent’s drug use, domestic violence, and family members being killed through gang-related conflicts.

By 2000, a 21-year-old Jayceon Taylor was a member of the Cedar Block Pirus, a Blood-affiliated gang, and dealt drugs on the streets of Compton.

Late on the night of October 1st, 2001, Jayceon was alone in his apartment when the doorbell rang and after opening the door, he was jumped by three