The Game - Remedy lyrics

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The Game - Remedy lyrics

[Verse 1] As my, Daytons spin, lowrider sittin low Hittin corners so hard you can taste my rims Rag top six-fo', Henny in the pa**enger side Smokin chronic just let me ride You would do it if my name was Dre, second comin motherf**er Throw it up for the king of L.A I'm known for makin b**hes take they clothes off Long as I'm from Compton, California I could never go soft I'm hard as a motherf**in ounce of raw Dribble rock like Kobe Bryant bounce the ball f** the law!! Feedin my son is a must Whip it soft, whip it hard, in crack we trust Why Andrew Jackson look high as f** on the 20, G answer Cocaine been around for centuries Since I'm young, black and rich, I'm the public enemy Ridin the ba** drum, Just Blaze got the remedy [Hook] I got the remedy Aftermath got the remedy n***a back up (back up) back up (back up) 'Fore you get your punk-a** smoked [Verse 2] I ain't no joke G, so don't provoke me I'm from the city of angels where that Jacob watch is a trophy And starin at that Hollywood sign'll get you straight jacked (Where you from fool?) Better say you pro-black Causin walkin in Roscoe's wit'cha chain hangin Is like Giuliani tryin to get rid of the gangbaners Now that 'Pac pa**ed, tryin to put us on d**h Row Get ready for the Aftermath I run through the city like Godzilla Doin mo' damage than Ice-T when he dropped Cop k**a Pull a shotty out the trunk of the Chevy There go another victim of a one-eight-seven Who's the grim reaper wit'cha life in his hand Even the toughest n***as run when my gun go... blam So kick back and watch the b**hes dance N.W.A. is back, now let me see your motherf**in hands [Hook] [Verse 3] I'm back by popular demand and so All black interior on the cherry red six-fo' n***as endin they careers tryin to shut me up Actin like I traded in my khakis for a bu*ton up The West Coast still dippin Game still Bloodin, and Snoop still Crippin So what you sayin loc? Red and blue bandana Tied in a knot, as I creep through the chronic smoke They say it ain't good weed if you don't choke sh** got my head spinnin like the hundred spokes Three wheelin through the neighborhood System on blast, as the motherf**in one-time pa** The key to drivebys is aim steady Turn that Bape hoody into motherf**in confetti When you cross that enemy line Close your eyes, parental discretion is advised