The Game - Baggage Claim

Song Rating: 8.84/10

Song lyrics:

I be down in lil Haiti, bagin a lil weezy and a lil baby
In a drop top Mercedes, Im not what your used to
Im a lil koo-koo, Ill put this 9 on your head like a f**ing bluetooth
And let the smoke from the Benz exhaust blend with
The smoke from the cough cuz that marijuana Im smoking
Mary J whats the 411, call guidos people I need 4 more guns
And shoutout to LL for no f**ing reason
Cuz he the reason Def Jam was ever breathing
Number one, you n***as cant f** with son
Number two, new DJs dont have a clue
Number three, to ever to be a real MC
You have to go back to 88 and battle Kool G
Then battle Cool Jay with Cool Herp judging
Im the opposite of the levy in New Orleans, Im not budging
n***as talking bout they cars, n***a I got a dozen
You couldnt see Game if you were Chris Paul cousin
While we talking bout cousin, if you was cousin
Then Ill be blooding, so you still aint saying nothing
Im coming outta customs, on the phone with Busta
Lil duffle bag boys, Im swimming in trust funds
So trust that its fun, let ms. white scholar (?)
And this white collar touch my ones
Jay got married, whatup b
I wish I could of threw the rice, just like salt to me
And Im right where I ought to be

Across from Jack Nickolson n***a playoff seats
Whatup Bynum, hows that playoff ...(?)
Next time-out tell Kobe run the play-off me
Cuz I dribbled in hallways all day, did drive-bys in broad day
And I lost a homie in a car chase
Think Im bullsh**ting, call Face, call Mase
Im a ghetto boy n***a i grew up on Scarface
Call Nas, how that Cuban cigar taste
Ask about the homie Suge, Ill blow the smoke in your face
Now wouldnt it be gangsta if i knocked out the n***a that hit him
At the club throw up a motherf**ing dub
Im an animal around these parts, Im a cannibal around your heart
Hannibal chewing through cantaloupe
Couldnt find a doctor I had to make my own antidote
Never detox and I blow it like Barry Manelope
Cali Cronic Purple Haze, twisting up a back wood
Thinking bout when I was running through 50s back woods
In Connecticut my etiquette was gangsta
Damn, I was right there when he dropped Wanksta
The good old days, smoking the good old jays
Rocking good old Jays, the n***a proof or the number fours
I like the number nines, them sh**s were hot in the summertime
Keep playing Ill put your a** up under mine
The old Jimmy Henchmen, thats my ratchet game
Welcome to Compton, corners call it baggage claim

Date of text publication: 04.08.2021 at 22:35