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| Lyrics > T > The Game > 300 Bars | 0-9 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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| The Game - 300 Bars Lyrics: | ||
Kids Intro 1: 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 mu'fucker Don't fuck with Game Kids Intro 2: I like 50 Cent, he reminds me Spongebob And Tony Yayo is Blues Clues, and Lloyd Banks is Dora the Explorer There my friends, psyche!!! Teenager Intro: I went down one of them bodega 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 in '88 I mean Olivia cute but they say that bitch a man So this Black Wallstreet for life now GGG-UNOT! Intro: The Game 300 Bars and Runnin, just loan me your ears for 15 minutes Walk with me Hear the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them n**** 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 n**** take shots to shoot back Defendin his yard, he's standin his ground I'm sayin 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'm a smack 'em silly What you thought them was the only n***** rapped in Philly? See them n***** with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly Cosmic Kev called said Curtis jacked in Philly Make a U-turn I gotta go back to Philly I forgot my cheese steak, that's what I told the cops So they wouldn't get the dogs start searchin 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 signin many things still searchin for they Pac I put purple on the block, So I don't feel threatened When Ludacris say he comin for the number one 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, bologna we pop You sell records but a G-G-G-Unot! Actin big on the radio to me you not You can ask Mister C-C-Cee who hot Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you flop Run up on that new 300 C you got Start hopin I fall hope the bleedin 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 breathin 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 movin 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 n***** when Dre producin a track Take it to the streets put the deuce deuce to your hat Then call the pigs tell them the rooster is 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 luger clap his roof is back I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so? Now you left leanin back, thanks to Fat Joe We got reservations in heaven, you ready? Let's go Drop them off then pop Cristal with Esco I'm a say he hit me first if me and Dre talk All Nas said that what he had was Dre fault Now, that's the eulogy beefin is kinda foolish see N**** runnin their mouth about what the fuck they 'gon do to me But, quit the yappin before I proceed to clappin And you 'gon see the captain with plans of gettin 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, n**** I pop mines How you 'gon drop Olivia you only drop dimes I knew you changed when you start sleepin in that vest dog I don't need 50 Cent my n***** make collect calls 1-800-split a faggot n**** wig He got G-Unit wings throw them off to QueensBridge Now your career is over, career is over We in QB, bangin CNN in the rover T-O-N-Y that's Capone N NORE You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteen’s is borin Take that shit off your ankles go back to PC And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3 I'm airin 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 n**** 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 tried to borrow some lines That's the wrong n****, when you need help with your rhymes All he 'gon tell you is to say G-Unit one more time Got mad cause 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 He said he put you with your mommy 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 beginnin not to trust those cats I kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo back The underground is mine, I treat it like home It's the reason n***** sayin my name like Mike Jones The underground is mine, I treat it like home It's the reason n**** sayin my name like Mike Jones (I Said!)The underground is mine, I treat it like home It's the reason n**** sayin my name like Mike Jones (I said!) The underground is mine, I treat it like home It's the reason n**** sayin my name like Mike Jones And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and screw it Do whatever to it, put it in the store the shit movin Gave 'em a hundred bars, didn't think I could do it Came with two hundred, n**** this is more than music Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer Both feet in the dirt, three hundred Bars and Runnin I beef with any n****, say my name motherfucker I'm gunnin Then 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 an Air Jordan shoe I told Funk Flex when I catch the n**** Whoo Kid We 'gon see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs Don't hit me on the sidekick askin what you did Get a gun or ask 50's police to use his Cause Bloods gonna get ya Bloods, Blood, 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'm a tell Em and Dre This n**** bootleggin my music ain't nothin for him to say Took me off my own songs then put it on his tapes So I'm a take him out his house, put the beam on his face Drop him off at Terror Squad let him scream for the jakes Cause when you fuckin with Jayceon you can bleed in the lake For cakin off n**** on them CD's and tapes Ask him to scratch a record you will see he fake If 50 was Puffy you 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 singin like Bitches only feel your shit just a lil bit N**** only feel 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 Beatin on your chest, I see to your death, yep Tell Ecko to make him a suit Tell Reebok to make him some boots Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his head He a dead man for thinkin 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 Bay Unless you one of the Bloods, or a Latin King Cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will sting And your cell mate is a 25 to lifer They will stab you then force you 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 N**** stop actin tough before I stand over you Show you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre Make a move I'm blastin your ass go to the last one Ten shots from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger Fase yellin that's enough let the coroner bag him up Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Magnum Gun smokin Fase think I'm locin backin up Reverse the '05 hearst on 41st in traffic, what Hip Hop cops on my left but I pass them up The Dodge got a Henny in it, Game got Remy in 'em In and out of lanes like a New York cab I'm Mr. Ol' King in that New York cab Who's this fake n**** on pictures with the Jake N**** got his crew starvin cause he aint the whole cake n**** He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you got? We gettin tired of you talkin about who you shot I'll use another six bars to tell you who you not You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta You went out with Vivica, three months after wanksta Get Rich or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot Now the same n**** wanna take us to the Candy Shop Come on man, what happened to the thug? Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks huggin N**** got mad when The Game start buzzin So fuck makin friends now I'm into throwin slugs Olivia talking about we a family, Game had to go N**** I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O Cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you I don't wanna shake hands or wear your G-Unit shoes Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group Just wanna sit here and wait (For the summer) To be gone, so I can head back to the block Fresh White Nike Airs and the matchin socks fitted Pull the brim low, if they don't get it Bentley Coup on gold daytons I was the first one with it Four times platinum, I done been there and did it Came in the game and shitted then wiped my ass with it They say the Lord giveth Lord take it away So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop and wait for the day N***** hatin on me they don't want Jayceon to play And the DA waitin on Jayceon to make a mistake So they can put me in the SWAT car and lock me away Give me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay Let me out so I can drive down criminal way Pushing the rock nah this ain't no subliminal Jay The summer too hot, and I want the winter to stay Cause I'm a cold n**** when I put the pen to the page Similar to them shells goin into my gauge I hand em off to Dre, he turned them into grenades And Just Blaze, cause the boy got game Like I close my eyes and woke up in a Roc chain Now back to reality my gun and my vest And if diamonds are forever then I'm Kanye West Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou went Jacob Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em And the flow is hot like that witht Satan And the only thing I got spinnin is Daytons The hotter I get the more willing to snake 'em So soon as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em Compton Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars When Game in the house, they call (?) Cause they heard about what went on in D.C. Heard about Hot 97 my beef with 50 Now tell me do he got a conscience? I think not, cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference I'd rather be pushin rock like Samantha Ronson 50 whispered in my ear, like we still bonding We ain't friends I'm just acting like Charles Bronson Middle finger in the air one hand on my Johnson Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the convict What happened to the old school? I thought it was rhymin Doug E. Fresh and Dana Dane on the corner like Common Now that ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen The flow is noodles, I throw it up like vomit And I still shine like diamonds They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman It's still Aftermath two feet in the pension I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I can't because I'm in the hood politican Impala liftin And I keep a black fo' five on the side of my Prada Denim Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison Dollar vision blow a hundred thou like my wallet missin Then re up like Henny before the cup Continuously gettin money with my feet up Chasin the throne in my Black Air Force I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me But you ain't 'gon do that so motherfucker move back While I do B.I.G. and Pac impersonations on two tracks When I wake the dead everybody remove hats We miss y'all can I get a hand clap? Now back to rap, and why I gotta stay strapped? On that murder T.I.P. kill you ASAP They won't know which hole to patch up, when the cake clap I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash n***? Say my name now that's your fuckin ass n**** Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a pass n*** Now I gotta lay you down like the last n**** Buck, buck, buck from my AK-47 This n**** playin with his life I might have to put him in heaven Tryin to play The Game talkin shit up on the stereo Prepare for burial when I'm reincarnatin Harry-O And you don't want that David cause you love your life Get my Vibe when it's war he pull out butter knifes Motherfucker I'm a show you who the gangsta All you do is Murder INC now who the wanksta? When Suge had you you were stranded on Tha Row Juve left you for dead and went back to the N.O. 50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your little flow Then he made you temporary replacement for Yayo You a bitch, and that's hard to swallow And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago I call my n*** Jojo to get it back He had the shit in his hands and you ain't had the ten stacks Picture that, I thought we was G-Unit Then you ran and told 50 that I did that shit Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to find I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is Mine Take one shot of Brandy and pop Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy Shop Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops And Olivia, I mean for a man she hot Now I'm runnin out of breath like I just beat boxed Got 20 bars to go lay it down like sheet rock Don't worry about the flow the boy know he hot Hurricanes in stores November nigga fuck Reeboks I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a tree top The new Hov, the new B.I.G. the new Pac I need three spots 280 in, ain't no gettin me back I'm yellin fuck the world on my victory lap Remember first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek Now it's whoever motherfucker yeah, who want beef? Now whenever motherfucker, who wanna see me? In the coffin, body exhausted, restin in peace You don't want war n**** you want peace So give 'em the peace, capiche, let him rest in peace Let 'em rest in peace From west to east the flow is out datable, irreplaceable Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan And I slipped 'em the ace and you cannot replace 'em If Eazy ever decide to return I remain Jayceon A king in the makin and the throne is for the takin So I climb the mountaintop and put my stake in Got the weight of the world on my shoulder Not a n**** nor a hood rat bitch can stop me from takin it over This is crack music go get the baking soda 300 Bars and Runnin n**** the wait is over I'm gone........ View more The Game Song Lyrics: The Game - 300 Bars Lyrics The Game - Ride Or Die Lyrics The Game - 240 Bars (Spider Joke) Lyrics The Game - The Power House Anthem Lyrics The Game - Down Lyrics The Game - Let's Ride (Strip Club) Lyrics The Game - Lookin At You Lyrics The Game - How We Do Lyrics The Game - 120 Bars Lyrics The Game - Bang Lyrics |
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