Released: December 3, 2005

Songwriter: The Game

Producer: Nu Jersey Devil

[Intro]
Not, Blackwall Street, The Game, Beach Boy
Charli Baltimore (he wears a red bandana)
Rockstar, we are the Black Gang
Free Shyne, motherfuckers! (he wears a red bandana)

[Chorus]
On the front of murder talk (he wears a)
On the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
The whole world know (he wears a)
Every nigga in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the N-Y-P-D (he wears a)
Why you snitch on me and tell 'em that (he wears a red bandana)
All the Pirus know (he wears a)
Even my crip niggas know (he wears a red bandana)

[Verse 1]
Cheah, cheah, dear God let me cleanse my soul
Throw away all the rims and the gold
Oh no I can't do that, do I love God?
True dat, but I got a gun so move back
I'm loco like 5 eses in the side of Chevelle ridin' on low pros
I'm a renegade, ride with the .44
Been a gangbanger all my life, fuck the popo
I ain't never been a cocky kid, know they could kill me if they shot Pac and Big
But I let my bandana hang, in the city of angels we gangbang
I move that chronic and yayo, way before I met 50, Banks, Buck and Yayo
Ask Eminem even Dr.Dre know I put one in last ten in the Range Rov
Used to push that rock like Jay Hov, you better lay low when the A-K blow
Or get wings and a halo, run to the hood and tell 'em I'm the nigga they gotta pray for
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I said run to the hood and tell 'em I'm the nigga they gotta pray for
Lay low and stay low

[Chorus]
On the front of murder talk (he wears a)
On the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
The whole world know (he wears a)
Every nigga in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the N-Y-P-D (he wears a)
Why you snitch on me and tell 'em that (he wears a red bandana)
All the Pirus know (he wears a)
Even my crip niggas know (he wears a red bandana)

[Verse 2]
Cheah, cheah, I'm a gangbanger don't get it fucked up
You ain't never bang, you ain't never laced chucks up
So how the fuck you gonna criticize me
I ain't the reason niggas is bangin' the N-Y-C
Makin' bullshit threats on the M-I-C
I don't wake up in cold sweats when I sleep
I live comfortably With a red rag tied around the 45 in case niggas come for me
Mad cause I started my own company, I don't know what the fuck Niggas want from me, except something for free
Before The Documentary dropped, you bitch niggas wasn't bumpin' me
And to some degree, I gotta keep that 4-5th under me
I don't run from beef It's either cock back, squeeze or underneath 'Cause I'm from the streets of (Compton)
And my grandmother died before I was multi
Wasn't raised right cause my parents was both high
High off cocaine, my introduction to the dope game came in 85 watchin' Soul Train
Mama told me I was the future, and one day I'd be fly like Soul Plane
Just don't bang, but back then I'd do anything for a jheri curl and a gold chain
Niggas always got something to say
Like they ain't never bumped N.W.A
Punk niggas talk shit, but when they need hits
They swallow they fuckin' pride and come runnin' to Dre
Niggas come to L.A. when they need to talk
'Cause Kanye told everybody Jesus Walks
Bush killed more niggas in the towers then gangbangin' ever did
That's why they need New York

[Chorus]
On the front of murder talk (he wears a)
On the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
The whole world know (he wears a)
Every nigga in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the N-Y-P-D (he wears a)
Why you snitch on me and tell 'em that (he wears a red bandana)
All the Pirus know (he wears a)
Even my crip niggas know (he wears a red bandana)

[Outro]
Yeah motherfuckers, Chuck Taylor
Oh you thought I forgot about that alias huh?
I'm going back to my roots
G-Unit is dead, as a staff, a record label, and a motherfuckin group
Your clothes can't sell, your shoes are straight garbage
Your movies suck! Chicken Little killed you nigga Hahaha
How you like it nigga, I took your style
I ain't doin no third verse, I'm just talk to you nigga
Like you do when you get mad at me 'cause you can't fuck with me lyrically motherfucker
You gonna do one of those sing song little clucky poppy hooks
You like the rap Lindsay Lohan you fuckin' faggot
Write 8 bars about me nigga, I do this shit all day 50!
Curtis Jackson, Boo-Boo
Marcus... Snitch
Blackwall Street C.E.O. motherfucker!
Hurricanes in stores December 26th
Stop Snitchin' Stop Lyin the DVDs in stores December 6th
It's a tell-all nigga
Wait 'til my movie come out, I'm glad it ain't based on my life
With that knock off 8 Mile shit
You can never be Eminem motherfucker
You ain't lyrically inclined enough to be JAY-Z, Nas, B.I.G. or Pac
And in the modern day... today, tomorrow, next week
You can't fuck with The Game nigga!
OUT

[Interlude]
Yo what's poppin' it's The Game
I want you to go out and buy my new DVD
Stop Snitchin', Stop Lyin'. It's a tell-all
Stopsnitchinstoplyin.com
Theblairesnitchproject.com
Anywhere of sight.com

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