Game Lookin` At You Lyrics

Lookin` At You Lyrics

(Chorus)



Walkin' down the street, and ma allstarz,

in ma
khaki suit, doin wat i do

Walkin' down the street, smokin chronic,

in ma black lotus, lookin' at you



---------------



Guess who's back on the west coast tracks,

its the mother f**king
messiah and gangsta raps,

still dippin the 6-4, still puffin on the same
chronic,

haters mad 'cause i still got it

I never fall off even
without the doc'

you n****s sellin your soul tryin to stay on top,

bitch n***a checkin kotex,

you n****s aint movin shit like the hand on
a fake ass rollex 



Im 5 million sold the cover of my last
album

the only time you see me sittin on gold 

im the most
anticipated, the most celebrated

the most loved and the mother f***in
most hated,

keep rollin like gold daytons

n****s got the game
f***ed up like Henessey with a coke chaser,

you gotta deal with me im the
west coast savior 

n****s think of me everytime they 6-4 scrape,

wat
do you call a n***a whose older,

parady, belligerance, foul defined,

and very disrespectful, you call that n***a a doctor's advocate,

he's a
reflection of Dr.Dre in his hey day in the worst way,

the 5 star surgeon /
general took Jayson

to the aftermath research department,

and gave
'em a blood test, that came back G-A-M-E positive,

the n****s infected
with the game virus,

his oraltorical skills are so impeckable, that
n****s in the street call him Sirus,

the young damu is down with violence
cause in his heart hes a tyrant

its not a game, its just called the game,


there will be no referee, no half time report,

when the game is
over, the game is over,

you cant put a quarter in the machine and get 3
more men,

thats the end



(chorus)



Walkin' down
the street, and my allstarz,

in my khaki suit, doin wat i do

Walkin' down the street, smokin chronic,

in ma black lotus, lookin' at
you



-------------



I'd of been to hell and back, left
for dead, you know who to thank for that,

finished my second LP without a
Dr.Dre track,

you can take my soul but you can't take my plaques,

im
the mother f***in' snair when you touch the beat, 

im the 808 drum that
got you movin your feet,

im the heir to the throne after the D-R-E,

product of my enviorment you old ass n****s get ready for your early
retirement,

before i let hip-hop burn down ill run in the buildin like a
fireman

who can out spit me when im high off sticky,

throwin back
Patrone shots in some creased up dickies 

im D.O.C certified, ice cube
lenched me, snoop stamped me and the good doc hand picked me,

you still
wit me? me and my mic can't be separated like interscope and...(haha)



good shit

some good ass mother f***in' weed

the california
sticky green

this is the aftermath of the aftermath

west coast!