Released: December 3, 2005

Featuring: Trae tha Truth Paul Wall

Songwriter: Trae tha Truth Paul Wall The Game

[Chorus: Tracy Lane & Game]
Some man gotta be gettin' pimped in the game
Do I look like I'm smokin' and I'm off that 'caine
Can't y'all see what the hell is going on
Don't sell your soul, you know that shit is wrong
You niggas fake, you can hate but I’m not gon' leave
And I’m not going home ‘till I’m sittin’ in a throne
You can throw rocks at it, if you try you can die
If you’re tired of these fake rap niggas say goodbye

[Verse 1: Game]
Hopped off the G4 lift the G5
Brushed off my G6s hopped in the G-Wagon
Roll through the city of Gs
On the west side niggas throwin' up Bs
On the east side niggas bangin' Cs
And holla' Black Wall Street 'till Shyne is free
The ‘hood ain’t the same now, bitches wanna holla’
Trae riding shotgun in a cherry Impala
Chrome hydraulics the beats is knockin'
West coast we keep it rockin' if there's drama we poppin'
It’s 1-8-7 when I bang that Manurhin
Spin yo' ass around like that chain Ma$e be wearin'
Motherfuckers, I'm bangin' Swishahouse
And Paul Wall got niggas screwin' my shit down south
Bitches see me on TV they feelin' me now
Say I rap like I'm from Texas and they like my style

[Chorus: Tracy Lane & Game]
Some man gotta be gettin' pimped in the game
Do I look like I'm smokin' and I'm off that 'caine
Can't y'all see what the hell is going on
Don't sell your soul, you know that shit is wrong
You niggas fake, you can hate but I’m not gon' leave
And I’m not going home ‘till I’m sittin’ in a throne
You can throw rocks at it, if you try you can die
If you’re tired of these fake rap niggas say goodbye

[Verse 2: Trae tha Truth]
Sittin' listenin' to the Game like a madman
Attitude that got me whupin' niggas ass with my dead hand
Me and la familia lookin' for the K and sprayin'
Fuck around with Trae you can fall up in a trance then
I play the game so I will lead the other gang in Houston, Texas my nigga
They swore to god to keep your head but not more wrinkles my nigga
I'm ABN, assholes they never vicked us nigga
Give me a pen a couple stacks and Imma bless you my nigga
What the fuck is they on?! Trae pop and gaze
I've been wicked since '97 the G without the pay
I've been street before niggas started, my brother what's the play
In the rental with CDs and a torpedo full of K gauge off
What it is me and Paul got the rest stressed
Got a nigga ready to show them that we the best
I'll be the realest nigga livin' we'll sellin' for dope in this
If you're lookin' for me you can find me On the south west
Motherfucker

[Chorus: Tracy Lane & Game]
Some man gotta be gettin' pimped in the game
Do I look like I'm smokin' and I'm off that 'caine
Can't y'all see what the hell is going on
Don't sell your soul, you know that shit is wrong
You niggas fake, you can hate but I’m not gon' leave
And I’m not going home ‘till I’m sittin’ in a throne
You can throw rocks at it, if you try you can die
If you’re tired of these fake rap niggas say goodbye

[Verse 3: Paul Wall]
I came up from the bottom, livin' broke without a buck to my name
Underdog up in the game with a G-mindframe
I had ambition of a dope fiend searchin' for a fix
I was in the streets grindin' tryin' to get in the mix
All odds have been against me ever since day one
But still I worked overtime 'til the job was done
A couple of my partners died some of 'em got tried
Now they doin' fed time, a 20 year ride
Write a letter here near, shootin' kites to the yard
'Til my rounds I'm countin' on that he'll go in hard
Most of my partners turned against me when the road got rough
I used to paint with deep prayers, pints of purple stuff
Then reattend you feel me, but the fake still hate
I'm just tryin' to feed my family put food on the plate
So I patiently wait, bringin' pain and stackin' paper
Mind focused on my hustle, fuck a hater bitch I'm Paul Wall

[Chorus: Tracy Lane & Game]
Some man gotta be gettin' pimped in the game
Do I look like I'm smokin' and I'm off that 'caine
Can't y'all see what the hell is going on
Don't sell your soul, you know that shit is wrong
You niggas fake, you can hate but I’m not gon' leave
And I’m not going home ‘till I’m sittin’ in a throne
You can throw rocks at it, if you try you can die
If you’re tired of these fake rap niggas say goodbye

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