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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes
Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes » T » The Game
Im Looking - текст песни



I'm Looking


(feat. Blue Chip)



[The Game]

I'm from Compton where them guns bust, watch Poppa George pop

Cats tellin jokes at them car games

Seen big face hundreds, handle the rock like Nate Archibald

What? This nigga only sixteen

And I wanted to be, just like him, middle school fightin

Any nigga with a chip on his shoulder, whattup nigga?

You want beef with me? Now I let the heat speak for me

No more talkin, just outline chalkin

Nigga Witta Attitude from birth, "100 Miles and Running"

Gunnin bustin shots like fuck the cops

Notorious for burnin blocks, weavin in and out of traffic and chop

Game the young Robin Hood of the block

Steal from the rich, give to the poor, coward niggaz rock

Second comin of this black Alfred Hitchcock

Kick in the door, wavin the four-four

Ten shots to your spleen, let them violins sing



[Chorus: Blue Chip + (The Game)]

Yo, I'm just a ghetto nigga stuck in this game, young'uns runnin with 'caine

Rain hits so we floodin the game

When you come to Compton respect the grounds, leave you shook man

(And I look good, from Compton to Brooklyn)

Hey yo I don't give a fuck who you are, fuck ya ice

Fuck the block that you claim, fuck your Bentley Azure

(Dead presidents is all I represent)

('Til y'all met me y'all niggaz ain't met gangsta yet)



[The Game]

Fast cars, money and muscle, the hustle I was brought up in the 80's

Gangbangin, dope traffic, shit get crazy

From where niggaz grow up hard like dicks raised

Them hustlin guns like Knicks players, we got mouths to feed

'Til they put flowers on me, moms kiss my cold cheek

In that pine box, I'm buyin rocks, eyein cops

Fuck a cell block, the young kid makin it happen

Who you think got them fiends runnin back like Bo Jackson?

I'm a gangsta, what else could I say?

I'm ahead of myself like it's Y4K

2Pac, Scarface, N.W.A.

Taught me how to dodge them bullets, keep my wig in play

Keep fo' snug in the waist or pay a thousand to have 'em

Niggaz in the street move faster than, Michael Jackson's album

But the shit don't really matter to me, we get better G

Bet the four slow 'em down like PCP



[Chorus]



[The Game]

Real gangsters never talk shit, handle they business

Fuck the dry snitchin and bitchin, niggaz die when them bullets fly

Who fuckin with him, ha? Not a nigga alive

End up dead in that 5

He got no sympathy for them dead guys, friend or foe

Watch that chest cave in, what that vest savin?

Make it sloppy for the autopsy, leave my enemies in a frenzy

On the frontlines holdin a 9

Everyday a new chapter, my own niggaz plottin on me

Tryin to hit me but they won't get me, feel the semi first

Fuckin with my dough, is the worst way to go

Y'all know, niggaz cry when them bullets burn slow dummy

In and out of spots watchin my money

If one dollar come up missin bodies start to come up missin

No one too heavy for the Expedition, piss on your corpse

Watch your soul shiver, throw him in the river, bitch nigga



[Chorus]



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