Justus - f** Wit Me lyrics

[The Game] Yo, it's the n***a with the nasty flow and the clean rag six-four With the D's spinnin I can bag a ho Top down so my rag can show, whatever in the dutch Purple or orange haze it's just a bag of 'dro Hit snatch with my khakis on, Aladdin Lounge In Mark Jacobs denim and Don Magli's on I'm a gangsta and the birds they love it 20 with a babyface and sit on base like Kirby Puckett You can't buy a Ferrari f** it, cop lle' from J The bricks come with Louis Vuitton luggage He order rock and cover it, the dimes is free The quarters is 75, the ball is live Ain't nobody fumblin on my block We in the field like Biggs or Marshall Faulk, we runnin the rock Nothin less than a hundred a pop, anything less you a cop Shoot you and take your vest and your Glock, motherf**ers [Chorus] What'chu know about stackin G's; you got to come f** wit me Puffin on sticky green; you got to come f** wit me My team is just oh so clean; you got to come f** wit me What'chu know about stackin G's; you gots to come f** wit me [JT] I'm in the streets like the place is mine, told to cover my tracks I push paper to increase my shine I'm on my chief, jumpin out the wagon like Tyco And get the kind of paper that these n***as'll die fo' Bossed out, camouflage under my vest B Motorbike, fast cars, broads and jetskis Rule #1, keep your eye on your cash flow Cause rule #2 will get rid of your best so None of 'em best show, ridin in stress mode 'less they got petrol, pushin that Benz slow Pick up the Game, let's count some cash Then we, get to the do', then you put on your mask On some other sh**, ridin wit'cha boy now We on the West coast, seek and destroy now It's like when Cal-Berkeley whooped on that Georgetown We had a riot in the streets fin' to blow now fo'sho' now [Chorus] [Verse Three - unknown] The underboss, ill too fast Buildin my stocks off the blocks and the wears will sag Not Gil but tryin to top, the nerd Bill Gates From the city of project buildings and them mossberg K's San Francisco, West coast, Northern Bay, California Man it's Get Low so best to toast, or torch'll spray on ya Uhh, makin mafia moves, skate from the cops Yeah they tried stoppin ya dude But nah, the ball, it don't stop A shot callin if I fall then my thoughts gon' flock Yeah, underboss with Game and Doc Figgaro Clear {?} and I'm the in-di-vi-dual Holdin weight, in the dope state Tokin the 8-8, oh, fold {?} Watch our bread and our team skyrocket Visualize I can rip beam on the cash and not 8 guys can't stop it [Chorus]