[Intro : Swizz Beatz]
Yeah... y'all really want this to happen? (Game time!)
C'mon! ... ARRRRRRRRGH!
[Verse 1 : The Game]
Homey it's hard not to k** n***as; it's like a full time job
Not to pull out the steel and shove it in your grill
Young California got that ma** appeal
I summons the hood, they get up in yo' a** for real
Knockout flow, Winky Wright jab for real
And all you n***as p**y, need Ma**engil
See I'm the gun-co*ker, one-shotter, lift 'em off the ground
Chop 'em down, like a cantaloupe, My flow the antidote
Sick flow, it's so, motherf**in six-fo'
Your b**h know, hop in the back when you see Swizz ho
Diss that, all you n***as get up off my dick so
I can cook crack on the track and watch it mix slow
Cocaine, my flow fire, call it propane
Every n***a know Game, five shots no pain
And that's the reason why I'm sh**tin on you n***as
Shut me in the looney bin, I'm sicker than you n***as
[Hook: repeat 2X]
(ARRRRRRRRGH!)
This is that disrespectful, motherf**in West coast
Hip-hop d**h blow, Swizz Beatz, let's go!
[Verse 2 : The Game]
Where I'm from, I seen the most stand up n***as lay down
Where skinny n***as make buff n***as victims of that trey-pound
And g**ners is the sharpshooters, we don't need no rooftops
Just knock his a** down and take the money out his tube socks
West Coast n***as is back on the map
If only for now until the next time I body a track
From the first clap I hurt rap, now watch the earth crack
Bring the hearse back, and take a lyrical dirt nap
I roll with the hardest n***as, make money with the smartest n***as
I ain't got time for you f**in artist n***as
Better shut your trap before you become a target n***a
Y'all army brats I'm the motherf**in sargeant n***a
Beauty pageant-a** n***as on the runway
+Boyz N The Hood+ 'til they see the n***a in that red Hyundai
Blow his f**in back out, cause I'm the rap Stackhouse
Black Wall Street b**h, the hip-hop crackhouse, what?
[Hook]
[Verse 3 : The Game]
My flow opposite of handsome, it's ugly
Hip hop tantrum, sick, call the sh** cancer
One man show cause I f**ed all the dancers
Let the critics ask questions, my album be the answer
These n***as let the rumors sit in they head like tumors
So I had to take 'em back, to toothbrush on the Pumas
Clean... mean... rappin machine
Red rag hangin low in the back of my jeans
I black out like February, back out what's necessary
Oh-seven Bugatti with Jimmy Iovine's secretary
I'm runnin the buildin, don't make me run in the buildin
No this ain't the first time I had my gun in the buildin
Walkin past offices I see my son in the buildin
Last album on the wall I'm number one in the buildin
They should build me an office up under the buildin
My elevator goin down, I am done in the buildin n***a
[Hook]
[Outro : Swizz Beatz]
We in the motherf**in buildin man
You ain't got your motherf**in mind right?
You gon' get your mind blown out your motherf**in mind right n***a
It is what the f** it is man
How y'all wanna cut the cake?
You touch this you get your hands cut off, n***a
Swizz Beatz the motherf**in monster
Game is in the motherf**in buildin
We could turn this whole motherf**in world red n***a
b**h!