Текст (слова) песни: The Game - 300 Bars & Runnin`

 
* we don`t normally accept mixtape lyrics, but this one is big 
** please send all corrections to the typist 
 
[Intro] 
My mama took me to Sam Goody`s 
I wanted to buy a 50 Cent CD 
I took that shit home 
That shit was wack like a motherfucker 
Don`t fuck with Game 
 
I like 50 Cent 
He reminds me Spongebob 
And Tony Yayo is Blues Clues 
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the Explorer 
They`re my friends 
Psyche 
 
I went down one of them Bodaga shits right there in Harlem 
Got me a bootleg Lloyd Banks and Young Buck CD 
Took that shit home, put it in my boom box 
Thought I was bout to be on some radio Raheim shit 
Man that shit sound like some Vanessa Williams `88 
I mean Olivia cute but they say that bitch a man 
So this Black Wallstreet for life now 
GGG-UNOT! 
 
[The Game] 
300 Bars and Runnin 
Just loan me your ears for 15 minutes 
Walk with me 
 
Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster 
Hollow tips`ll fold `em, them niggaz they toy soldiers 
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he sober 
Like I`m the president, but this ain`t the takeover 
Now, there`s the speaker, bring your ears a little closer 
Before you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed 
Why would I wanna do that? When I`m just the new cat 
That was taught if a nigga take shots to shoot back 
Defending his yard, yeah standing his ground 
I`m saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown 
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square 
Watch everybody sleep through it 
We can go bar for bar, I`ll let the lines speak to `em 
What they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it 
They say the wrong thing, I`ma smack `em silly 
What you thought? Them was the only niggaz that rapped in Philly? 
See them niggaz with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly 
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly 
??? said Curtis Jack in Philly 
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly 
I forgot my cheese stake, that`s what I told the cops 
So they wouldn`t get the dogs start searching for the glock 
And I can`t forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops 
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot 
What`s beef? Beef is when I murk you on the spot 
Labels signing many things, still searching for they Pac 
I put purple on the block 
So I don`t feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot 
Ask 50, it get lonely on top 
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got 
When it`s beef we eat, we win, but we ain`t lonely we pop 
You sell records but a GGG-u not! 
Acting big on the radio, to me you not 
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot 
Tony Yayo I bet 10 G`s you flop 
Run up on that new 300 C you got 
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop 
And I hope you black out before you see the cops 
I ain`t hot top for colors, I`m from Cedar Block 
So I got my hot tops that make your breathing stop 
I`m a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD shop 
I`m like Elvis in there, they can`t believe you dropped 
Now I`m moving on up to George and Weezy`s spot 
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy stopped 
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my back 
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap 
It get hot in here, let Lucifer rap 
Bring hell to niggaz when Dre producing a track 
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat 
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster`s back 
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back 
I`m still by your side, no matter who comes strapped 
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain`t about who can rap 
It`s about when the ??? clap, is rufus back 
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so? 
Now you left leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe 
We got reservations in heaven, you ready? Let`s go 
Drop them off, then the sound like Esko 
I`m a say ??? if me and Dre talk 
All Nas said back was he had a ??? 
Now that`s the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see 
Niggaz running their mouth about what the fuck they gon` do to me 
But quit the yapping before I proceed to clapping 
And you gon` see the captain with plans of getting me captured 
Even behind bars, I`m still gon` shine 
I`m 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I`m fine 
Then I go right back, nigga I pop mines 
How you gon` drop Olivia, you only drop dimes 
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog 
I don`t need 50 Cent, my niggaz make collect calls 
1-800-split a faggot nigga wig 
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge 
Now your career is over, career is over 
We in QB, banging CNN in the rover 
T-O-N-Y, that`s the phony NORE 
You ain`t the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring 
Take that shit off ???, go back to PC 
And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3 
I`m airing their ass out on DVD 
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me 
I`m a G-Unit toy soldier 
On Sesame street doing voice overs 
Bitch ass nigga need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines 
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes 
We was in the studio, when I first got signed 
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some lines 
That`s the wrong nigga, when you need help with your rhymes 
All he gon` tell you is say G-Unit one more time 
Got mad cuz I ain`t wanna make your beef mine 
You got lucky with Ja, why you ain`t go at Shyne? 
He freestyled from the pen, that`s just the fact 
Said he`d put you with your mom, and you ain`t fucked with that 
Then you lied about your pops, he ain`t never bust no cap 
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that 
I knew from the beginning I couldn`t trust those cats 
I`d kill `em all, if I could bring Justo back 
The underground is mine, I treat it like home 
It`s the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones 
The underground is mine, I treat it like home 
It`s the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones 
The underground is mine, I treat it like home 
It`s the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones 
I said 
The underground is mine, I treat it like home 
It`s the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones 
And I`m far from Houston but you can chop it and screw it 
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit moving 
Gave `em a hundred bars, they ain`t think I could do it 
Came with two hundred, nigga this is more than music 
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer 
Both ??? in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin 
And I beef with any nigga, say my name motherfuck I`m gunnin` 
You can put it on skee if you want it 
I`ll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue 
And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe 
I told Funk Flex when I catch the nigga Whoo Kid 
We gon` see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs 
Don`t hit me on the sidekick asking what you did 
Get a gun or ask 50`s police to use his 
Cuz Bloods gonna get ya 
Bloods, Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain 
That 380 spill brains, when I pop shots 
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop cops 
Or broad day in L.A., I`ma tell Em and Dre 
This nigga bootlegging my music, ain`t nothing for him to say 
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes 
So I`ma take him out his house, put the beam on his face 
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes 
Cuz when you fucking with Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake 
For caking off niggaz on them CD`s and tapes 
Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he fake 
If 50 was Puffy, you`d run and go get him a cheese cake 
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay 
Not the instant replay 
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like 
Bitches only for your shit just a lil bit 
Niggaz only for your shit just a lil bit 
On my album 50 helped me just a lil bit 
Only on two songs, now back to some killer shit 
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla quick 
Beating on your chest, I see to your death, yep 
Tell Ecko to make him a suit 
Tell Reebock to make him some boots 
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his head 
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman 
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man 
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his strings 
Take my advice, never wear air max for the ??? 
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin king 
Cuz if your left with the Aryans your ass will sting 
And your cell mate is a 25 to lifer 
They will stab you then ??? then fuck you on Rikers 
And Life Goes On 
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my songs 
He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf 
So he gave me all his hits, you should`ve kept them for yourself 
Nigga stop acting tough before I stand over you 
Show you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre 
Make a move I`m blasting your ass to the last one 
Ten shots from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger 
Fase yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up 
Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum 
Gun smoking, Fase think I`m locin` backing up 
Reverse the `05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what 
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I pass `em up
 

Другие песни The Game :

300 Bars & Runnin`
Dreams
Let's ride