The Game - 360 lyrics

Hey, Skee, tell 'em I'm goin' away for a while (A Million) Motherfukka's wanna see me dead (A Million) Motherfukka's wanna see me in the fed's (A Million) b**hes wanna give me head (A Million) Dollars in my bank account (A Million) Soundscan the first week out (A Million) Motherfukka's on my dick (A Million) Motherfukka's talking shyt Hit a break down... I'm the king, and you better respect it All I need is Beyonce, and a Roc-a-fella necklace n***a you can "check up on it", I'm a Slim Thug Cincinnati fitted, wit the red and black brim blood Gave n***a's 300 bars, two mixtapes, and a DVD I did it for the C.P.T Did it for New York, did it for Chi-town Ran through hip-hop, and made these n***a's lie down I'm going away for awhile, call it a California vacation I call it a Bentley with a smile GOD bless the child, wit incredible style n***a sicker than West Nile, who king of the West now I'm putting my vest down, n***a's ain't going to k** sh** Shut the f**k up, n***a you ain't going to k** sh** Rappers don't k** rappers, guns k** rappers And I be wit real crips, real bloods, real clappers F**k rappin, these n***a's will push ya grill backwards Faster than Iraqis when Bush attacking My flow semi-automatic, blhow Touching pussies is my job, you a b**h, this is s**ual harra**ment n***a get a lawyer, when 'The Game' coming for ya My jab, like Zab on the chin of De La Hoya I'm the golden boy, and I'm making Hova noise Got the whole world clapping, just like the Nolia Boys Since a juvenile, I had to prove my style Went from Kayslay to DJ Clue, and blhow 20 Magazine covers, n***a look at me now You need a hot 16?.. I need 100 thou Cause half of these rap n***a's just be running they mouth The other half, in the ATL runnin' the south 10 Mill in the bank, 7 bedroom house I'm rich, so on my 30th birthday I'm out n***a, I'm so ahead of time, and I spit better lines Better rhymes everytime, n***a's hate on me so much, I feel like I'm Kevin Federline F**k it im rich, for nothing, tell the media to get off of my dick You wit me, my next album going to sell like Britney I beat on these rap n***a's like Bobby do Whitney No more drama, no more beef wit 50 And if you just tuning in, welcome to the 360 (welcome to the 360, welcome to the 360) Right back where I started, in Compton, taking out the garbage Where Crips and Bloods shoot it out like Pearl Harbor That was '95, when Cube was in his prime You brought yo Lethal Injection, and I brought mine Rewind to '89, got my first mixtape My brother brought it for me, they use to call him Big Face But now, we ain't brothers, n***a we ain't sh** And you living in my shadow like Marcus Vick And I heard about yo little rappers talking sh** Stay out my family bidness, or you get a coffin quick I ain't change, same n***a that got off them bricks Got signed to Dr.Dre cause his bars is sick Getting head on the road, cause his cars is sick And he whop so good, I had to pause this sh** I told 'em bomp, slow down baby Got to get this sh** firm like Foxy, NaS and AZ She said 'f**k you,pay me So I left her in AZ That's what I get for letting her listen to my Jay-Z F**k a b**h, give me a 40, I'll take that Dress up for the grammy's, but I still don't drive maybach's n***a I'm gangster, and homey don't play dat Stand way back, or get ya a** clapped ASAP n***a this the payback, you want beef.. say that I'll have a hundred hurricane hoodies where you lay at Get yo whole clique wet, making up crip sets n***a got ran outta New York by Dipset Then he got ran out of Compton by my set Banned from Watts, can't even walk through his projects n***a so lame, talking he g**n Won't bust a shot, and the n***a know where I hang I'm Big Daddy Kane, and the platinum chain The fact remains, the game don't rap for fame Game rap for fun, Game blast his gun The game gotta rap in tongue, so that ba*tards done Be easy, I might give you a pa** this once I'm ready to die, but I don't want a ba*tard son n***a, I rap too good, and I'm back in the hood On the same couch, I put my demo in a package for Sug After one meeting, I was right back in the hood Red bandana hanging, selling crack in the hood Now it's, Aftermath for good... Any n***a mention Dre, get a Desert Eagle shoved in his f**king face How that taste? Blow yo sh** out fa'real, n***a im for real Call Nelly or Paul Wall, tell 'em make you a grill I cook beef, like a steak on a grill Got the clipse on hold, but I ain't Pharrell n***a I'm fa'real.. my flow ill, like smoke in ya lungs I Spit sharp like a razorblade under my tongue n***a, I'm number one, motherfukka bar none Who else kick knowlegde outside of Hova and the God Son We can go bar for bar, co*ks**er drop some(tm) Watch me Take Flight like Tom Cruise in The Top Gun You might win some, but you just lost one I beat on these lil n***a's like Dr. Dre drums Look at these motherfukka's trying to prove theyselves Thinking beefing wit hurricane going to boost they sales Never that, motherfukka, I'm a clever cat Kanye West in slacks, n***a, I'm as fresh as that Ask Dre, ask Snoop, I'm nice I'm Cube, I'm Jacob, I put rappers on "Ice" A skee , let me ask you a question If you take the 120 bars, put it with the 240 bars Then add the 360 bars, wit one Kevin Federline, what you get? (A Million) Haha.. lets get the f**k outta here man.. Go find something to do