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300 Bars & Runnin'
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Game
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1
[INTRO]
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My mama took me to Sam Goody's
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I wanted to buy a 50 Cent CD
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I took that shit home
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That shit was wack like a muthafucka
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Don't fuck with Game
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I like 50 Cent
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He reminds me Spongebob
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And Tony Yayo is Blues Clues
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And Lloyd Banks is Dora the Explorer
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They're my friends
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Psyche
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I went down one of them Bodaga shits right there in Harlem
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Got me a bootleg Lloyd Banks and Young Buck CD
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Took that shit home, put it in my boom box
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Thought I was bout to be on some radio Raheim shit
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Man that shit sound like some Vanessa Williams '88
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I mean Olivia cute but they say that bitch a man
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So this Black Wallstreet for life now
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GGG-UNOT!
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[GAME]
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300 Bars and Runnin
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Just loan me your ears for 15 minutes
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Walk with me
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Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
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Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
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Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he sober
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Like I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
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Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little closer
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Before you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
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Why would I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
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That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot back
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Defending his yard, yeah standing his ground
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I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
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Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square
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Watch everybody sleep through it
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We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines speak to 'em
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What they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
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They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
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What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
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See them *****z with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
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Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
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?? said Curtis Jack in Philly
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Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
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I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I told the cops
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So they wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
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And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
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Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot
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What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the spot
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Labels signing many things, still searching for they Pac
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I put purple on the block
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So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
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Ask 50, it get lonely on top
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You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got
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When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
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You sell records but a GGG-u not!
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Acting big on the radio, to me you not
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You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
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Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you flop
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Run up on that new 300 C you got
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Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
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And I hope you black out before you see the cops
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I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
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What i got in my high tops will make your breathing stop
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I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD shop
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I'm like Elvis in there, they can't believe he dropped
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Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's spot
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I picked up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
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I saw the west coast, put the shit on my back
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Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap
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It get hot in here, let Lucifer rap
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Bring hell to *****z when Dre producing a track
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Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
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Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
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Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
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I'm still by your side, no matter who comes strapped
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Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
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It's about when the ruger clap, is rufus back
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I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
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Now you left leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
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You got reservations in heaven, you ready? Let's go
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Drop them off, then pop cristal wit Esko
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I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre talk
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All Nas said back was he had a 3-4
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Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
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*****z running their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
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But quit the yapping before I proceed to clapping
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And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me captured
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Even behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
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I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
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Then I go right back, ***** I pop mines
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How you gon' drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
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I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
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I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
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1-800-split a faggot ***** wig
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He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
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Now your career is over, career is over
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We in QB, banging CNN in the rover
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T-O-N-Y, that's the phony NORE
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You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring
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Take that shit off lingo, go back to PC
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And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3
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I'm airing their ass out on DVD
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You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
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I'm a G-Unit toy soldier
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On Sesame street doing voice overs
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Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
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Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
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We was in the studio, when I first got signed
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He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some lines
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That's the wrong *****, when you need help with your rhymes
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All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more time
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Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef mine
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You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
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He freestyled from the pen, that's just the fact
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Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
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Then you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
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Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
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I knew from the beginning not to trust those cats
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I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
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The underground is mine, I treat it like home
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It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
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The underground is mine, I treat it like home
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It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
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The underground is mine, I treat it like home
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It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
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I said
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The underground is mine, I treat it like home
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It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
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And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and screw it
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Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit moving
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Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
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Came with two hundred, ***** this is more than music
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Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
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Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
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And I beef with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
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You can put it on skee if you want it
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I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
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And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
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I told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
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We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
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Don't hit me on the sidekick asking what you did
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Get a gun or ask 50's police to use his
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'cause Bloods gonna get ya
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Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
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That 380 spill brains, when I pop shots
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Outside NY, in front of hip-hop cops
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Or broad day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
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This ***** bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
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Took me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
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So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his face
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Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
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'cause when you fucking with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
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For caking off *****z on them CD's and tapes
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Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he fake
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If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese cake
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Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
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Not the instant replay
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I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
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Bitches only feel your shit just a lil bit
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*****z only feel your shit just a lil bit
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On my album 50 helped me just a lil bit
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Only on two songs, now back to some killa shit
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My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
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Beating on your chest, I see to your death, yep
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Tell Ecko to make him a suit
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Tell Reebock to make him some boots
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Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his head
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He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
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Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
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So the lieutenant gotta ask for his strings
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Take my advice, never wear air max for the pen
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Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin king
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'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will sting
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And your cell mate is a 25 to lifer
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They'll stab you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
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And Life Goes On
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Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
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He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
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So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for yourself
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***** stop acting tough before I stand over you
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Show you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
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Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the last one
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Ten shots from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
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Fase yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
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Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum
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Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' backing up
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Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
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Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
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The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
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In and out of lanes like a New York cab
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I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New York cab
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Who's this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
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Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
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He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
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If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you got?
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We getting tired of you talkin about who you shot
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I'll use another six bars to tell you who you not
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You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta
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You went out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
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Get Rich or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
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Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Candy Shop
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C'mon man, what happened to the thug?
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Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
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***** got mad when The Game start buzzing
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So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing slugs
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Olivia talking about we a family, Game had to go
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***** I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
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'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
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I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
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Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
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Just wanna sit here and wait
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To be gone, so I can head back to the block
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Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted
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Pull the brim low, if they don't get it
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Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
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Four times platinum, I done been there and did it
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Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
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They say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away
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So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
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*****z hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to play
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And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a mistake
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So they can put me in the squad car and lock me away
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Give me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
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Let me out so I can drive down criminal way
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Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay
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The summer too hot, and I want the winter to stay
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'cause I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the page
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Similar to them shells going into my gauge
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I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades
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And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
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Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
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Now back to reality, my gun and my vest
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And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye West
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Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
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Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
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And the flow is hot like that wit Satan
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And the only thing I got spinning is Daytons
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The hotter I get the more willing to snake 'em
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So soon as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em
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Compton Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars
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When Game in the house, they callin all cars
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'cause they heard about what went on in D.C.
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Heard about Hot 97, my beef with 50
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Now tell me do he got a conscience?
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I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
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Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
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I'd rather be pushing rock, like Samantha Ronson
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50 whispered in my ear, like we still bonding
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We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
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Middle finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
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Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the convict
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What happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
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Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner like Common
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Now that ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
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The flow is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
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And I still shine like diamonds
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They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
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It's still Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
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I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I can't because
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I'm in the hood politican, Impala liffin'
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And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada denim
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Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
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Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
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Then re-up like kid before the d-cup
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Continuously getting money with my feet up
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Chasing the throne, here my black Air Force
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I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
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Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me
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But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka move back
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While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
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When I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
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We miss ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
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Now back to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
275
On that murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
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They won't know which hole to patch up, when the K clap
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I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
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It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash nigga?
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Say my name now that's your fucking ass nigga
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Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
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Now I gotta lay you down like the last nigga
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Buck, buck, buck from my AK-47
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This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
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Tryna play the game, talking shit up on the stereo
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Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
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And you don't want that David 'cause you love your life
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Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter knifes
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Muthafucka I'ma show you who the gangsta
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All you do is Murder Inc., now who the wanksta?
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When Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
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Juve left you for dead and went back to the NO
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50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your little flow
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Then he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
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You a bitch, and that's hard to swallow
295
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
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I call my nigga Jojo to get it back
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He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten stacks
298
Picture that, I thought we was G-Unit
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Then you ran and told 50 that I did that shit
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Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to find
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I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is Mine
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Take one shot of Brandy and pop
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Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy Shop
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Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
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And Olivia, I mean for a man she hot
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Now I'm running out of breath, like I just beat boxed
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Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet rock
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Don't worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
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Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck Reebocks
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I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a tree top
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The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three spots
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280 in, ain't no getting me back
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I'm yelling fuck the world, on my victory lap
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Remember first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
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Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
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Now whenever muthafucka, who wanna see me?
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In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in peace
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You don't want war nigga, you want peace
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So give 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
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Let 'em rest in peace
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From west to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
322
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
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And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
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If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
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A king in the making, and the throne is for the taking
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So I climb the mountain top and put my stake in
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Got the weight of the world on my shoulder
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Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it over
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This is crack music, go get the baking soda
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300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
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I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone
The Game | 300 Bars N Runnin (FULL VERSI...
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