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Lookin at You
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Game
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1
[Chorus]
2
Walkin' down the street, and ma allstars,
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In ma khaki suit, doin' what I do
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Walkin' down the street, smokin' chronic,
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In ma black lotus, lookin' at you
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Guess who's back on the west coast tracks,
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Its the mother fucking messiah and gangster raps,
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Still dippin' the 6-4, still puffin on the same chronic,
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Haters mad 'cause I still got it
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I never fall off even without the doc'
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You niggas sellin' your soul tryin' to stay on top,
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Bitch nigga checkin' kotex,
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You niggas ain't movin' shit like the hand on a fake ass Rolex
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I'm 5 million sold the cover of my last album
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The only time you see me sittin' on gold
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I'm the most anticipated, the most celebrated
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The most loved and the mother fuckin most hated,
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Keep rollin' like gold Daytons
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Niggas got the game fucked up like Hennessey with a coke chaser,
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You gotta deal with me I'm the west coast savior
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Niggas think of me every time they 6-4 scrape,
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What do you call a nigga whose older,
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Parody, belligerence, foul defined,
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And very disrespectful, you call that nigga a doctor's advocate,
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He's a reflection of Dr. Dre in his hey day in the worst way,
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The 5 star surgeon, general took Jayson
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To the aftermath research department,
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And gave 'em a blood test, that came back G-A-M-E positive,
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The niggass infected with the game virus,
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His oratorical skills are so impeccable, that niggas in the street call him Sirus,
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The young Damu is down with violence cause in his heart hes a tyrant
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Its not a game, its just called the game,
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There will be no referee, no half time report,
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When the game is over, the game is over,
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You cant put a quarter in the machine and get 3 more men,
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Thats the end
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[Chorus]
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I'd of been to hell and back, left for dead, you know who to thank for that,
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Finished my second LP without a Dr. Dre track,
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You can take my soul but you can't take my plaques,
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I'm the mother fuckin' snare when you touch the beat,
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I'm the 808 drum that got you movin' your feet,
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I'm the heir to the throne after the D-R-E,
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Product of my environment you old ass niggas get ready for your early retirement,
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Before I let hip-hop burn down ill run in the buildin' like a fireman
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Who can out spit me when I'm high off sticky,
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Throwin' back Patron shots in some creased up Dickies
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I'm D.O.C certified, ice cube lenched me, snoop stamped me and the good doc hand picked me,
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You still wit me? me and my mic can't be separated like Interscope and
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Good shit
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Some good ass mother fuckin' weed
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The California sticky green
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This is the aftermath of the aftermath
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West coast!
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