A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

The Game

"Rolling Stone"

(Verse 1: Game)
Nigga pull up, hop out the cutlass, tell a nigga fuck this
I ain’t toleratin no fuck shit
Wifey at the halfway house, with a bitch with her ass hanging halfway out
I ain't bout no games nigga, that's my name
Gold grill with a blunt hanging halfway out
Nigga can’t tell me shit unless he got hits and then he can tell me how them hash weigh out
Crib laid out like a pimp here, your bitch there on a bed laid out
Nigga talkin that fuck shit, we just spread out
Boy get yo whole motherfucking hood K’d out
I was born in the CP, Tommy on my lap
If it’s cheese in that ho you can find me in the trap
But when it’s snap, give a fuck about a rap
Yuck me and Buck back, 7-11 on the crack
See a Cadillac? Get the fuck up outta there
Grand Theft Auto on a bitch ass nigga
Getting 3 up, bring a truck up outta that
Then pop bottles, let me hit that nigga
Roll blunts the size of this mac
I’m in love with the kush, ain’t givin that back, trill nigga
Smoke till my lungs collapse
Pass out with a 5th of that cognac
Real niggas gon' recognize this G shit
Don’t come at me with no peace shit
That peace shit, that was ‘89, I get yo ass hit with 89’s
Motherfucker fore the cops get down, nigga J’s coming off
Drive off with the K’s running off
Fly home, tuck my sons into bed
Kiss my daughter on the head and leave a note by her motherfucking bed

Papa was a rolling stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone
Papa was a rolling stone, my son
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died all he left us was alone

(Verse 2: Young Buck)
Ain’t shit changed with me nigga
Been around the world with the same AK
Same clip with mo' bodies on it
Then hook yo' hood with this beef shit
Looking around but nobody want it
Niggas know what’s up with Buck
Get a couple murder cases coming up
Shoot first!
Molly popping, that’s young niggas
All they really wanna do now is so guns
Moving on and I’m gone
Papa got a brand new home
And I’m not looking back, I’m just cooking crack
Until I get back where I belong
My bitch leave brains all on my seat
But these niggas’ blood all on my hands
Been riding up and down these streets
Fucking as many niggas I can
Shotgun shell still in my leg
Got a few racks still on my head
Gotta stay strapped now, they handicapped now
Fuck niggas who’s stealing my bread
Had to buy a graveyard for just trappers
Ain’t got a funeral home for you rappers
Know I can play the role with you actors
When we gon' get enough to come after
Now send it nigga, I’m going Kendrick nigga
You can start the shit but I’mma end it nigga
If you getting money better spend it nigga
This real life, no pretending nigga
Back at it again, fresh out the pen
Remember back then? They had to let me in
And ya'll niggas talking bout cashing out
I need a trash bag to put the cash in


(Verse 3: Papoose)
They told me papa was a rolling stone
Like Mick Jagger keep bitches round they whips, Charlie hold it holmes
You ain’t a poet 'cus you wrote a poem
I am lyrically until these spirits really higher on the totem pole
I get the cheese, cheddar mozzarella
American, moderate, jack, swizz, feta, mars the prevalone
I bring a nigga down limb by limb
Blood sweat tears molecules flesh then show my chromosomes
Jim star, raise it for yo' dome
With a hole in yo' face shot just like Macaulay Culkin Home Alone
Tote the chrome and spark blast with a dark mask, tryna pop trash, blowing at yo motor home
I’m on LeBron, catch you bitchin on my block
I’mma knock it out the park
Babe Ruth, go and throw it go
I grab his bones squeeze 3, brought him like DD, you PC no ET in fully home
Guantanamo… all of ya'll fucked up
Young Buck, roll 'em holmes
Have a glass of murder, have 'em grab the burner
I’m so nice, can see these rappers cry so loaners
My way fowl, don’t convert you have a jazz converter
You need bigger hard drives, I’mma crash yo server
I was raised with the killers in a class of burglars
I’ve been the truth in the booth go and ask the jugger
This is annihilation, you niggas violating, won’t die hating, getting shots like immunization
I’m sending vibrations that could shake a wise nation
And if the devil was a liar then you gon die satan
You ever disrespect my brother soldiers
You gon' see a bunch of Rolls with tints, throw em in the cellar
Blood on my hands so blood money low
You got blood on yo' hands 'cus you a cutthroat


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