Texty písní The Game California Republic Red Bottom Boss

Red Bottom Boss

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[Verse 1: Game]
I'm about to tear this fuckin' track out
Pretend it's Keri Hilson and blow a fuckin' back out
22nd mixtape, half of em diss tapes
But fuck who I was dissin' because I never made a mistake
[?] got what he deserved, Jay, I might have been trippin'
I was fallin', I was slippin'
He was Jordan, I thought I was Pippen
He was winnin', I was losin'
He threw a jab, I started bruisin'
So I threw in the towel just to separate all confusion
Ivy Blue is beautiful, me sayin' that's unusual
That's the father in me, don't think I'm tryin' to be cool with you
Thug life, Rihanna knuckles, Gucci shirt, designer buckles
Louis Vuitton billboard, the nigga's boy just tryin' to hustle
Poster boy for them drug dealers
I just want you all to love me
But I ain't handsome, I ain't trying to bug niggas
Y'all the Verizon man, I'm just gon' stand behind y'all
But every now and then, I gotta remind y'all

[Verse 2: Game]
It's that red bottom boss, nigga
Burgundy Bentley truck, fuck what it cost nigga
That V12 start up like Ross nigga
That's why them hoes call me the boss nigga
Catch me in the Maybach, where them seats recline way back
Remember, I had a Rocky for ya, and I ain't talkin' ASAP
You know I got that K strap, chopper with the base hat
If you see Tip trillin', King of Diamonds, tell I got like eight stacks
Ace of Spades by the crates, biatch
Never lose, like Alexander the Great, biatch
I only win like Bay, I run the city like mayors
Don't make me go dig up them old Chuck Taylor's
Back when me and Snoop was the only ones throwin' up gang signs
Ya niggas wasn't bloods until I cosigned y'all
But y'all that Verizon man, I'm just gon' stand behind y'all
And sometimes I gotta remind y'all

[Verse 3: Game]
Taylor Gang nigga, I ain't Wiz doe
I got that yellow brick road inside my ear lobes
Playin' ice hockey, feelin' like Gretzky
Los Angeles King, and I'm who the whole city cheer for
Niggas throwin' subliminals, act like I don't hear those
I could give y'all 100 bars, but you all know y'all fear those
And plus, I'm too attached to my lifestyle
Fuck them Air 1's, I'm too attached to these spikes now
Louis Vuitton's, hard as croutons
They comfortable like futons
They suede, grey poupon
The yellow like Luke on
The Lakers, he was traded
But they should have moved that nigga Marion, Gloria [?]
Damn, was that too strong?
These niggas gettin' pooped on
While I get my Duke on, and crossover like Duhon
Luke warm, I'm too hot, you're too cold
I'm 2Pac, you're too old for hip hop
Stop. Recognize...
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