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

"Pop It For A Player (Remix)"

[Intro]
Psych Ward Druggies
Hey yo, what up Fonzarelli?
What's happening, Game?
What up, Tech Nina?
Hey yo, Bowers! Let's get it!
(Positions, please) Remix!

[Hook: Ryan Anthony]
When it's time to hit, I don't ever miss
First string n*gga, I don't ever see the bench
They focused on the swish, it's all in the wrist
I don't give a puck, I don't ever slip
Pop it for a player! (8x)

[Verse 1: E-40]
Goodness
Little momma over there popping it to the fullest
(What she doing?) Over there, cutting up
Making her presence felt, got a million-dollar butt
Double-D cup, silver-dollar nipples
Poke out through her bra like two missiles
Jaw-dropping, astonishing, legal tender, a winner
I wonder how many drinks it's gon' take to get to the center
How many blunts to enter? She surrender and let me smack
Doing this one like a lumberjack, penetrate from the back
Get my rocks off like I slang crack, lifestyles
Ran through a whole pack, off of that Cognac
I'm a maniac, my di*k don't know how to act
She the cheerleader and I'm the quarterback
I'mma mack and she do whatever I say to her
Now let me see you pop it for a player

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Game]

Molly? Never met her, marijuana better
Chick never sweat her, 'less she got all my time for a
Sweater, it's cold outside, it's cold outside, pull up a
Hard-top phantom, leave them froze outside
Versace bomber for whenever wind blows outside
Chronic smoking the air, that grass getting mowed outside
I got a Canon, yup, I got a cannon
No bullets, like Eli, she got that bronco like Peyton Manning, so it
Makes perfect sense when you see us with Louis duffels
Pitbull on my waist, I can't stay out of trouble
My name ring bells (bells)
Ask Kim, ask Chanel (ask Chanel)
Ask Keisha, ask Michelle, my nickname five-star
Hotel, presidential suite, pus*y swell
n*gga sweat, you scared, I can tell
Pop shots then hop in that V-12 'cuz

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Tech N9ne]
Chyeah, I'm a playa, I'm a playa
'Cuz every girl I meet, she end up begging me to spray her
Insides, them eyes, opposite of in a prayer
She know my cake is sittin' higher than the Himalayas
Yahtzee! Popping that poonanny for Papi
Take my tally and top me, bouncing booty for broccoli?
White b*tch, but she like her men like her coffee?
Awfully thick, I got whiskey di*k, I'm saucy
Always ready to jump down on a b*tch, turn
Around, I'mma take her down pound on a (b*tch)
We kixin' it, acting like we don't see y'all
Bring the drama, whatever they 'gon do (f*ck 'em), we ball
Strange Music in this b*tch, we going all out
Take the b*tches to the crib and get em sprawled out
All the haters and naysayers, killing y'all doubt
Yes, we got your lady giving all mouth

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Ryan Bowers]
Straight to the gas, no brakes, got a bad one on my plate
Don't wanna be cuffed up, show no love, just f*ck them in the face
Coming through ripping and breaking a b*tch, I'm MVP, you made for the bench
I came up now, but I bet you "pssh", your girl want that banana split now
Okay, okay, Druggies in this bi-yatch
Slobbing down my di*k she say she got no gag reflex
Back it up, reverse, she rocking my
T-shirt, too many hoes, I'm like the broke Justin Bieber
Straight up, we about to be all paid
I swear, I give Miley them wrecking balls all day
Used to put me on the bench, now it's all play
Went from easy-bake pus*y, now they all gourmet
I get brain on lobotomy
Now I date some chick, get more pus*y than gynecology
Coming up from the bottom, see, lowering the economy
We the hottest sinners, motherf*cker, no apology
Bowers

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 #


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