The Game - It's Like That lyrics

[Ludacris] (Intro) YEAH! Ludacris in this muthaf**a What up Talib Disturbing tha Peace Godamnit We just getting started Mixtape style it goes like this, look here: Now Ludacris out the gate and damn it it's hunting season When you shot remember everything happens for a reason And you never hit it right: that's why I'm snatching your girl She calls me Mr. Drummond - cause Diff'rent Strokes rule the world I got a, thirst for knowledge and a appetite for drama Or appetite for destruction, and a thirst for your mama Either way I keep it going 'til that thang is empty Been nice since Mike Tyson punched Soda Popinski Chicks keep getting stung cause they're all in my swarm Plus I step in they dorm and get more cheers than Norm! It's 2004 the world needs more lesbians And more drunk drivers, to hit drunk pedestrians They walk around here with two left feet But warm milk and cold gat'll put yo a** to sleep I'm in these streets still no matter how ugly it seems Long as I got on my bulletproof Buddy Lee jeans [Talib Kweli] Kweli and 'Cris n***as never heard no sh** like this Yeah, I got your chick feeling moist You coming softer than an ad in the back of the Village Voice You still a toy The cops is still the boys They trying to get me to vote by saying the lesser of two evils is still a choice Well maybe or maybe not n***as rhyming like they got 80 Glocks You home watching I Love the 80's - STOP Picture the ocean with the panoramic view My flow the iceberg that the Titanic ran into Ooh I, rock like suicide victims who wear flannel While your rhymes sound like they was written by Clear Channel I used to, drive through 50 states and hear 50 flows Now every city knows the same song, It's just a game of pimps and hoes And the kids think the key to get down in the game Is to copy the hot n***a and start sounding the same Now you trying to be heard but your shouts is in vain Cause you drowned out by the buzz that's surrrounding my name, you lame The mic is something that you can't pry from me Shout out to I-20 Sha my rhymes is good money Whether rollin' with Achmed and Dervin swerving the street To where Chaka Zulu, Shawnna and Luda Disturbing tha Peace I murder the beat I'm the nightmare that recur in your sleep My word is the flesh like the wafer that the nun got the converted to eat They say he's the lamb of God herded the sheep A whole flock of followers, n***a do you believe? [The Game] Yo what's poppin' it's the kid Game And my n***a Ludacris My homeboy, my dawg, my brother from another mother, Talib Kweli And this is how we do it man, hate it or love it Yes who fresher than I? 'didas red and black lumberjack 45 in his Levi's Yeah since knee highs I watched Easy E rise Put LA on illmatic but they ain't believe Nas Now it's '96 in the Jeep high Ta told me they don't believe you start writing rhymes after B-I-G died Eyes puffy, some n***as saying f** me Cause I'm from the west, I'm fresh and I idolize Doug E Now NY hug me still n***as want to hate I'm embraced by 50 states and the westside love me Bids[?] told Dre I'm the n***a to chase And it been that way since the beef with Jigga and Mase And my Chuck Taylors red ones with the phat laces Tan khakis desert eagle with the hollow tip laces Fresh white tee, yellow rocks in my necklace Real gangstas drink 40 ounces for breakfast I eat Fatburgers three times a day So f** you if don't like the red paint on my six tre' I was born in the hood, I be who I be And me and Kweli is like Mack 10 and WC