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Krush Groove Lyrics - West Coast Resurrection - Game

We on our third song, we on our third song, heyyeyy 

You understand it, I'm official with mine I'm double clutchin' 

On the fo' wheel, pushin' quarters like niggaz doin dope deals 

Fo' cut 50 like a verse and a half 

 

I cut the brick and now we countin' the math, we 'bout that birdplay 

My crew's committed, you dudes gon' get it 

Have a seat you through when I'm finished, my troopers is fitted 

Got 'em posted out in Brooklyn, Hollis Queens to the bridge 

 

We in the studio the Figgaro done did it again 

We got factors out in the ditch where they smackin' a bitch 

I got homies out in the Bronx where they bustin' at cops 

It ain't no game with the underground, came from the underground 

 

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Pushin' a hundred thousand, we out the trunk, never browsin' 

JT, another boss from the Bay 

And rest in peace to my boy, Mac Dre, what'chu say nigga? 

JT, another boss from the Bay 

And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre, motherfucker 

 

Hey, yo, it seem to me like e'rybody got they own truth 

Believe me I'm in them sheets like phone booths 

I play the game I was born to score 

But I'm a lil' too cute for them corner stores 

 

A little too, known to stand on the block 

And a lil' too eager to sit in the spot 

Mami, I'm from the Eastside, yup yes that side 

Heads fly if I open ya chest that wide 

 

Gimme a bad vibe end up on ya backside 

Or you can get your back and side splatted in back of ya ride 

And I can make it happen, if I don't make it rappin' 

This lump of Satan, I'm packin' thrash 'em with a major passion 

 

Photos 

 

I slash ya face and fracture you flashin' in the latest fashion 

And have you dashin' from Manhattan all the way to Aspen 

Your shit is whack, heard your tape and had to take an aspirin 

Step ya game up 

 

Listen, before I get up in the mornin' I ask the Lord for strength 

Tryin' to get my niggaz out the hood, you know how the forces get 

It's like the devil got a hold of my neck 

And I'm gettin' this change runnin' 'round reppin' my set 

 

Momma used to look at me funny she could tell her baby boy changed 

Must be out there gettin' some money 

But it's a price for everything, you know how the game go 

For them birds niggaz'll cock back the calico 

 

Now you introduced to the beef, what'chu gon' do now? 

Bitch up, skid in your crib, or pull them tools out? 

A lot of niggaz is real, a lot of niggaz is fake 

A lot of niggaz shake your hand and shake hands with Jake 

 

Fuck what'chu heard, I startled your brain 

I hit the spot like a in ballers and jeans 

On some eighty-eight shit, more raw than Kane 

It's not my fault she looked at me, you better talk to your dame 

 

That's just, part of the game and you got served 

Who got nerve cause Lethal hard like Tupac words 

And, why y'all chucks always actin' like tough guys 

You must be trippin' or you slippin' on mudslides 

 

And in the hood you see it's different from one time 

What's your bloodline, play the strip to the sunshine 

And I don't even know why I'm wastin' my breath 

I oughta be like Makaveli and be fakin' my death 

 

I keep that good shit it's tastin' so fresh 

And all y'all sloppy Joe niggaz yo y'all makin' a mess 

We on the way to yo' nap, so put your tapes in the deck 

And spit in a hundred bars straight without breakin' a sweat 

Writer:

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