Lamar "Mars" Edwards - f**ed Up lyrics

[Intro: Game] These n***as got me f**ed up (x5) These n***as got me, I think These n***as got me f**ed up [Verse 1: Game] I be on the block with that chrome boy, Postin' up with my home boy Leanin' on the 2 tone boy, What you want for them zones boy 10-5? 10-4, put it on the scale, add a little more Take a shot of that 'tron boy, bag it up and then gone boy They givin' quarters out, watch yourself on that phone boy They gave me seventeen, his mama singing that song boy We gettin' money baby, we gettin' cash money Stuntin' like the Birdman, sittin' on my dash 120 on the dash, 4 Giottos on the wheeeeeels (on the wheels) Paper stacking's too long boy, blowing Cheech and that Chong boy Better watch that tone boy, headshots to that dome boy [Hook: Game] These n***as got me f**ed up (x5) They got me, I think These n***as got me f**ed up Hold up, these b**hes got me f**ed up (x3) I think these b**hes got me f**ed up [Verse 2: Menace] Think a n***a trip the way I walk around Gotta keep that pistol on my hip to lay them haters down Gotta keep them b**hes on my dick then I bring Game around Paper stash gon' break em down, f** 'em hard don't make a sound I'm all up in your trap boy, ride around with that pistol Gotta keep the b**h in my lap boy, hater n***as, come get ya Made my n***as rab, my n***as clean, we do it, dare try to intervene Thats suicide f**in' with my team, I'm blowing clouds and I'm 'bout the cream Yeah, and I'm bout that sh**, we for of chips, and I'm flossin' hoes Y'all full of sh**, not s**in' the O's, I'm too legit and I'm tippin' 4's You n***as really want it, b**hes lookin' silly for it Really kin the whip is foreign, n***as lookin' real important [Hook] [Verse 3: Game] Say boy, ever had a b**h all up in your crib Stickin' that dick all up in the ribs Then she tell f** n***as where you live And now they all up in your sh** Flippin' matresses over, turnin' couches sideways They thinkin' crime pays Got a choppa For the n***as that don't understand how the f** we ope- -rate and anyway get back on top of my paper chase Kush burnin', slow dragon, 29's, been had 'em n***as take shots, then runnin' high We'll find their a**, Bin Ladin Me and Mike in the Benz wagon, better watch your block boy Purple clouds of that Pepé Le Pew, I'm gone of that Ciroc boy Clipped up to that pop boy, holdin' on to that knot boy Palms grippin' that Glock boy, we comin' back for them yachts boy [Hook]