Mr West, Money & The Power Lyrics - Hood Morning - Game

[Verse 1] 

Today Jimmy Hendrix is motivation 

I guess it's time for me to put them 808′s in 

Middle finger to them faggot niggas hating 

And Sak Pase to all my f-cking Haitians 

Give me a pimp cup to pour my Rose in 

I'm in the same car that Ricky Rozay in 

Tell Satan that it's a celebration 

So get your hands up, nigga get your hands up 

Now, which one of us is really Mr. West? 

Probably the one of us that really needs to wear his vest 

And I'm just shooting my niggas some subliminals 

'Cuz he got all the bitches and I be with the criminals 

Beat sound like some crazy shit that Tim would do 

Now when you see me, I'm the brown Eminem to you 

Show you what I'm finna do, but you don't know it's me though 

Magic when I shoot, get to boxing like Hedo 

Turkoglu, niggas, get to murking you niggas 

Hit your block in the Caprice and just circle you niggas 

Know what I mean? Think you pheens how I'm serving you niggas 

Know what I mean? Think I'm beans how I'm serving you niggas 

And it ain't rice and beans when I'm serving you niggas 

Punk you in front of your crew, Steve Urkel you niggas 

Putting bull shit out, I hope it works for you niggas 

And when it don't, come and see me, I got that work for you niggas 

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[Hook X2] 

Like uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!) 

Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!) 

Uh (Mr. West, Mr. West!) 

Now, which one of us is really Mr. West? 

[Verse 2] 

He had a Rolls, I had a Rolls too 

Eat your money up, you know how them hoes do 

Burn rubber, swear to God they gon' love ya 

Like rookie cops, can't wait to be undercovers 

I'm 6'5″, nigga basketball size 

You act like I can't f-ck one of them basketball wives 

I be a basketball Game, with my basketball dame 

Feeling like, Hov, call back, I'm watching basketball dang 

Damn, but I ain't talking 'bout dames 

I ain't talking bout Hov, I'm just talking bout Game 

Ask Ray Allen, they boy got game 

Jesus Shuttlesworth, yeah the boy got range-s 

In the parking lot, niggas talk a lot 

They way they gossiping hip-hop should be a barber shop 

Getting cash money baby, why you tryna baller block? 

Mad chick, her's, man somebody gotta call the shots 

Photos 

[Hook] 

[Bridge] 

I guess it's me y'all, the highest on the see saw 

Get so much money, why the f-ck would I wann be y'all? 

Shit, I be everywhere, but I don't ever see y'all 

So for the next 12 songs, I'mma fucking R.I.P. y'all 

[Verse 3] 

Sometimes I hear anger talking, asking how I'm feeling 

I'm just happy to be alive, Lord willing 

Four albums later, two more children 

Feeling like 'Ye, "Mr. West is in the building" 

What happened to the competition? Nigga I killed 'em 

Can't drink Crystal, the nigga Hov chilled 'em 

I'm on this patent rhyme like I know them niggas 

Them haters say I fell off? I'm 'bout to show them niggas 

Drake and J. Cole them niggas 

I sold nine mill, made nine mill, and kept it hood nigga 

Just like Drake told a nigga 

I made it rain in hundreds like I was Big Meech 

I made it rain in hundreds when I was with Meech 

Went from a Cutlass with the old front end 

To a, um, Benz, stop light jumping 

Now I'mma take you back to where I got jumped in 

West side Compton, just east of the one ten 

[Hook Number 2] 

I just roll weed on your last album 

And after that I'm 'bout to f-ck your girl for 'bout an hour 

Look around the club, uh, all I see is cowards 

Mad 'cuz I got respect, the money, and the power 

I just roll weed on your last album 

And after that I'm 'bout to f-ck your girl for 'bout an hour 

Look around the club and all I see is cowards 

Mad 'cuz I got respect, the money, and all the power 

[Verse 4] 

"No one man should have." 'Ye said that 

"Can't knock the..." Naw, Jay said that 

"You can thank me..." Naw, Drake said that 

"Mind playing tricks on me" Scarface said that 

But I'm about to roll this paper plane 

Hit the barber shop, get cut before this Laker game 

Niggas hate The Game, sometimes I hate the fame 

They hate my bitch, they hate my chain 

I'm so hood, I might fly to New York and just take the train 

On some John Travolta shit, just take the train 

So if you in New York at two o'clock, don't take the train 

I make niggas dissapear, no David Blaine 

I split your whole team up, no Jay and Dame 

Fresher than Will Smith was before Jada came 

Four albums, twelve cars, but the flow stay the same 

Every nigga I dap turn blood, it's like I'm made of flames 

Dipping this red flag, like the one I gave to Wayne 

[Hook Number 2] 

[Verse 5] 

Go Dwight Howard, now watch them hoes run 

Soon as the Game over, they back stripping for ones 

Had your bitch all in my crib, stripping for fun 

Getting head, thinking 'bout cars when I strip 'em for fun 

Walk in my closet, throw on my J's, pick up my gun 

Spin the block with some some shit that spit quicker than Pun 

I respect two East Coast niggas, Biggie was one 

If he was living, he'd say that no one is sicker then son, uh 

Young gun, bar none, the tightest where I'm from 

Roll some much kush, got the leaves sticking to my thumb 

As I break it down, bring that six tray around 

Banging Nas album, yeah, you can hate me now 

Treat beef like haircuts, gotta fade it down 

Ran out bars, guess I name-drop Slim and Baby 

How can niggas hate on me? 'cuz I get Cash Money 

Six bricks in the Aston Martin, that's fast money 

[Hook Number 2]