Mya - Still Me lyrics

[Intro - Ikay] Yow! A weh di f** do dem? Black Wallstreet, Cry Nation Yeah! From Kingston to Compton… Ha ha Yow Game! Weh yuh deh pon? Warminister! Ha ha… Dem fi know Yeah! Game! f** wid dem [Verse 1 - The Game] Straight outta the motherf**ing pissy hallway in the projects To park in a four door Bentley on my set Same hood, same motherf**ing steps I sat on and took the plastic off of "Life After d**h" Bangin, boning Biggie Biggie i did a 360 The Aftermath for that is the n***a 50 ain't wit me No hard feelings, we both made millions You can hate me or love me but n***a I spit real sh** Like I'm comatose, tell the Doc I'm sick Before "Detox", let me take my last chronic hit Now I am gangsta rap Inhale the weed smoke and coughed up five platinum plaques So I'm a let the n***a Dr. Dre hit Next time I have dreams of f**in an R&B b**h I don't make love, I make hits I put a condom on and stuff my dick in this Hip Hop sh** [Chorus - Mya] Feels good… Gangsta… Still hood… Gangsta [Verse 2 - The Game] I'm that six figure n***a Who got the word from KRS-ONE and stole the Blueprint from Jigga n***as yellin Game did this, Game did that Game ain't do sh** but bring the motherf**ing West Coast back I hear the whispering going on in the hood I sent a motherf**ing Hallmark card to Suge That n***a know that we all good So you can catch a cab to Hell wit them d**h threats I'm already dead I put the .38 revolver to my own f**ing head Before I let the sh** eat my conscience Ain't a n***a in the world could tell me I can't come thru Compton Before I retire my Converse, I'll ride the train thru NYC with the terrorist bombers Somebody tell my mama I'm crazy Poppa was a Rolling Stone so that makes me a crack baby I'm in rehab three times a week Because I'm a motherf**ing fiend for a Dr. Dre beat [Chorus - Mya] Feels good… Gangsta… Still hood… Gangsta [Verse 3 - Ikay] Uh, Yea! Uh It's da motherf**in I dot Jamaica on my back Ten pounds of weed on my block Cops coming, hide that I'm so f**ing blessed Straight off da River, so f**ing fresh Heyy! Mi got mi chopper pon mi p**yhole! s** yuh mother, tek yuh eyes off mi rapper money Got respect fi di shottas only Stick to the streets like cheese to macaroni A weh di f** do dem Five shots, a duppy dem Glock innah mi hand, mi a go fi dem Big dog never scared ah di puppy dem I got no love fi dem Got slugs fi dem I be on some street sh** Weed in my eyes so I can't see sh** Be on some G sh** Let dem n***as talk, run up on you wit da Hawk and squeeze clips They wanna know where da n***a from Kingston Jamaica got dem n***as bombed I'm never wrong I am the the street motherf**as, here I am [Chorus - Mya] Feels good… Gangsta… Still hood… Gangsta