200 Bars And Runnin' Lyrics - Singles - Game

The Game talking] 

What the fuck is all this noise? 

He from Cali he can't rap 

He ain't better than this nigga 

That's my favorite artist 

Fuck y'all hear the breakdown 

[Verse 1: The Game] 

No detox I'm comfortable dog 

Like the solo Reeboks right up under me dog 

And it feel like I done it before 

Sit in the throne pollutin the airwaves like a hummer exhaust 

Don't let MAKAVELI fool you homey thuggin it costs 

Pour out a little liquor for the loved ones that we lost 

You ain't gotta wait for the album I don't fuck with The Source 

But I turn up my Eazy-E and let it bump in the Porsche 

I mean turn up my B.I.G. and let it bump in the Porsche 

Tell 'em to roll red carpet when he come in New York 

Hip-hop police on me think they runnin New York 

Till I lace my and1 show 'em how to run in New York 

They tryin to take me downtown put me under the court 

'cause Joe Buddens told 'em I carry a gun in New York 

And homey that's strictly fact he got ripped on wax 

So he snitched just to get me back 

No matter what you say dog your shit be whack 

You better watch what you say it might get you clapped 

Here's a little advice homey switch your raps 

'cause that shit on your last album ain't get you PLAQUES 

What nigga you need a gun? I'll get you that 

P-89 nigga let Dre stitch you back 

HE AIN'T A Industry niggaz I'll admit to that 

But I don't even want your chain I'll let the Crips do that 

12 bars for that bitch he won't live through that 

Even a nigga with a ten-year bid knew that 

Put a gun in his mouth yeah, yeah do that 

He a pussy (sniff, sniff) his own kid knew that 

I'm Ready To Die B.I.G knew that 

He ain't eatin look at his white tee you could see his ribs through that 

You cocksucker let your ears do that 

Or ride later do me ooh wee now back to rap 

2 Lincoln continentals sittin back to back 

Leavin Jersey City naw nigga Hackensack 

Where's that somewhere where the crackers at 

Real far from where the roaches and rats is at 

Come to Compton I'll show you where the racquet's at 

Down the street from the staples centers where they hack-a-shack 

Give the advance money back I AIN'T have to rap 

Break Harry-O out tell him crack is back 

That's nine five a bird take half of that 

Import it, export it in cracker jacks 

When you get to the projects ask for Black 

You know what you started with give him half of that 

He gon give you 50 g's in a plastic sack 

And I'm a give you 3500 cash for that 

Gotta keep your mouth closed or I'm a blast the Mack 

They won't believe you the whole world know that bastard rap 

Once you outta the throne you can't have it back 

Retirement home and ain't nothing after that 

Except you layin in a casket black 

Suit on you can't go to heaven with timberland boots on 

No subliminals I ain't talkin to you Shawn 

I'm talkin to that heartless mouse with no jewels on 

Who the fuck put you on 

Faggot ass nigga let men toss his salad like croutons 

I fuck with Fab get my DJ Clue on 

Sit inside Hot 97 with no tools on 

And it don't matter IF it's Sway or KaySlay 

Angie Martinez I'll take 'em back to k-day 

They act like they forgot about Dre-day 

I don't rap for Free that's why they fired AJ 

It's me leaking through your stereo 

Envy me AS AN emcee prepare for your burial 

I kill niggaz without lettin the Desert blow 

Razor tongue and I'm far from Haitian son 

All black like the range rover wheels 

niggaz whisper around The Game like The Game won't kill 

Let me show you the stars take you back to the car 

Rewind time march 3, 1994 

I was only in my teen's deuce-deuce in my Levi's 

When Nas hit the scene I was still rockin knee-highs 

Runnin with my brother FASE he was seventeen 

Two guns in the upper waist so we hit the block 

Saw niggaz from a rival gang bumpin Dre 

Ran up on the '64 and that's all she wrote 

We runnin through the alley like Bishop chasin Raheem Ass 

First murder and I did that without a mask 

Fast-forward see Game gettin out a Jag 

Two piece suit on he still got his rag 

Gangbangin forever he still got his swag 

Let me catch you in Los Angeles without a pass 

Everybody in New York know that you a fag 

Come out the closet show the world how to use a pad 

Speakin death on my red bandana 

Naw he couldn't have said that so I raised my antennas 

Look at my Nextel got a call from Santana 

That nigga a pussy we just saw him in Atlanta 

So I hopped on the first thing smokin to Atlanta 

Pulled up at 112 ran up on that black phantom 

Security hopped out no Joe in here 

Just Outkast gettin ready for a show in here 

So I uncocked the .44 hopped in the cherry 'lo-lo 

Chrome grill with the G-Unit logo 

We watched Hov go now the world waitin for my solo 

I'm the man Stat Quo know 

I ain't gotta explain even Bo know 

Have of these rap niggaz is faker than rolls gold 

Get hit in the face with the back of the .44 

And pissed on tryin to play The Game with a broke nose 

My bitch harder than you yeah Vita loco 

I haven't sold one record got rap in a chokehold 

I'm Dre certified like the leader of the band 

Run up you sure to die I'll leave you where you stand 

Smurf-ette runnin around New York like he the man 

But he peed in his pants 

When he saw us at Summer Jam 

Lucky I wasn't there I had to bury my man 

Or I would've terrorized New York like the Son Of Sam 

What you mean terrorize New York? 

I mean expose these pussy ass niggaz like I'm Too Short 

Somebody tell Domination I'll leave 'em in parts 

leg in Jersey, arm in Brooklyn, head buried in Central Park 

He can't walk through New York no more like john STARKS 

Gotta call 'cause i'mma break his ankles like Hot-Sauce 

Ask niggaz from your hood I'm thorough IN 5 boroughs 

Sit on any stoop ? In the thermo 

Wait till Alpo come home 

Like AZ from Harlem Dre gon pay me regardless 

'cause he know Jay-Z departed 

And these other rap labels know don't feed they artists 

Talkin blueprint shit you got three garages 

Gettin money off Roc like little E and carter 

Showin off your little chain like these is flawless 

Send him 50 cent a day I can see he starvin 

I got R&B bitches givin me mnage's 

Deep massages I could hear Eazy talkin 

Tellin me to have a seat in Tamika's office 

Buy Ruthless and get Lil' E involved in 

Promote without that magazine in Boston 

Take a couple mil make Beans a offer 

Give him money we don't see that often 

But it was all a dream like I seen Memph Bleek in Marcy 

I ain't say you won't see Bleek in Marcy 

I said my said he won't see Bleek in Marcy 

I'm from Compton where niggaz used to bleed for BARKLEY'S 

Drive lo-lo's and we ain't need keys to start 'em 

Just a little information for your summer vacation 

Bring your chain 'cause every nigga in L.A. waitin 

Mad 'cause Detroit beat the shit out the Lakers 

And they'll kill you 'cause THEY can't find Gary Payton 

Meanwhile the throne vacant and Da Band ain't makin it 

Shyne got a new deal, Def Jam gotta pay us 

PLAYBOY Jones got knocked out shortly after they weighed him in 

niggaz got beef with G-Unit but ain't sayin shit 

Quiet as a church on Tuesdays 

Niggaz say they hate my music but my alerts ON THEY TWO ways 

Nigga I'm a hazard like Michael Jackson in khakis 

Touch kids but I do that with a semi-automatic 

With or without traffic I pull my shit out and blast it 

I'm blind to the masses like Stevie wonder without glasses 

I'm a savage spit murder like a .38 Magnum 

16 bars of baggum let the hook toe tag 'em 

Murder any MC throw 'em in that white wagon 

Let him die and come back look at 'em he white flaggin 

Spreadin rumors like when I see Game I might jack 'em 

I'm tellin the world he reach for my chain I might clap 'em 

'cause niggaz shot me in 2001 

Took one in the heart 'cause I was too proud to run 

The clip was empty when the police found my gun 

So I don't bring that gangbangin shit around my son 

Nigga 50 took 9 he know how it feel 

And I found out Buck got shot up in CaShville 

And Sha Money told me Lloyd Banks got hit 

And Yayo just came home G-G-G-Unit 

Backstage at a D-12 concert 

A fan asked me how it feel to be walkin in Snoop's converse 

Niggaz show me love when they see me in the streets 

But they frown when I don't wanna hear none of they beats 

Nigga this shit crazy 

Em said some shit when was 16 now they tryin to RUIN Slim Shady 

I forgive him I got problems of my own 

How you think the streets gon' act know that Suge GOT home 

These niggaz is birds I can see the feathers on 'em 

If Doc give me the word I put this Berretta on EM 

When the beef is on my piece is on 

Them white sheets is on 'em Doc breathin on 'em 

And I got an extra clip in my Reeboks 

'cause I'm in and out my socks every time I see cops 

Game got the streets locked call 9-1-1 

Get the whole fuckin LAPD shot 

Niggaz snitchin to the street cops 

Get your nephews and your niece shot 

With my heat cocked in the beach stop 

Nigga witta attitude like I heard Dr. Dre doin Detox 

Niggaz fightin for the throne that ain't shit 

Tryin to measure the fallin legends but the shoe won't fit 

Niggaz might think I'm ridin dick 

'cause I'M AT the cemetery puttin creases in my G-Unit's 

Tryin to talk TO Jesus Christ into lettin me dig 'em up 

So they could stand side by side again and live it up 

This might be the last time you hear me biggin 'em up 

With suicidal thoughts bangin me and my bitch in the truck 

My conscience tellin me if I put the clip in the buck 

It might be loud enough to wake B.I.G and them up 

What if that was P. Diddy sittin in the truck 

And 2Pac was in jail the day HE RECORDED hit him up 

I wouldn't be outside 40/40 bumpin 'Jigga What' 

Wouldn't be SIGNED to Dr. Dre I wonder is its luck 

They got me on MTV with Banks, Fifth, and Buck 

I ain't tryin to be L.A.'s king he carry a pimp cup 

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[The Game talking] 

Snoop Dogg got the crown nigga 

What the fuck y'all mad at me for 

I ain't sold one fuckin record 

I'm just tryin to use these 200 bars to feed my family nigga 

I ain't no threat 

I can't rap I'm from Compton remember 

You gotta be out your motherfuckin mind 

Ask KaySlay, ask Clue, ask Whoo Kid, ask Funk Flex 

I'll murder anyone of you motherfuckers 

G-G-G-G-Unit 

Ah! 

Photos