Put It In The Air Lyrics - West Coast Resurrection - Game

Who's hot, who's not, I been the hottest thing 

On the west, ever since the death of Tupac 

Kept my crack in clear capsules with blue tops 

And it's still nothin' for me to get you shot 

You see him? Yup, the same ol' pimp 

Sky baller and ain't nuttin' changed but my limp 

Natural born player, mine not a lame or a skimp 

The world is mine, you see my name on a blimp 

Stay Dolce Gabbana'd down, play the Bahamas now 

Youse a donkey, I'ma piranha clown 

I keep thick bread, in the pockets of my sweats 

While I'm drivin' I get head in the cockpit of my 'Vette 

And my game is sharp as a mosquito's needle 

As far as the charts, young S be's The Beatles 

Purple haze smoke in the urr, blow in the wind 

The rims right there when I stop they still go and they spin 

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I can teach you how to stunt boy, and pop that trunk boy 

Them city slickers ain't never been punks boy 

So fix your ice grill, and your mean mug 

Unless you wanna feel a few M-16 slugs 

Nigga you got a blunt then put it in the air 

Nigga you got a gun then put it in the air 

Nigga you from a gang then put in in the air 

Play with Killa Cali if you want, muh'fuckers 

Nigga you got a blunt then put it in the air 

Nigga you got a gun then put it in the air 

Nigga you from a gang then put in in the air 

Play with Killa Cali if you want, muh'fuckers 

I ain't got no time for fake ones, so don't think for a second 

I won't pull this 45 and put your stomach where your neck is 

If I tell you kiss the sky better respect it 

Or get yo' ass hog tied, butt ass naked 

Photos 

I'm doin' this for easy, like it or not 

I wouldn't even be rappin' if Eric Wright wouldn't a dropped 

I love this shit, I work and I'm good 

I ain't on corner fuckers but I'm still in the hood 

I'm poised to go platinum, that's what the magazines sayin' 

Fuck 'The Source', I got my own magazines man 

I call her Shirley, she got a 32 round clip 

And she love hangin' out wit'chu girlie's 

I'm like them Philly nigs that come through "Early" 

Through your front door without knockin' like Mr. Furley 

It's just me, you and the semi "Three's Company" 

You want the crown, you be U.G.K. like Bun B 

Nigga you got a blunt then put it in the air 

Nigga you got a gun then put it in the air 

Nigga you from a gang then put in in the air 

Play with Killa Cali if you want, muh'fuckers 

I rock jewels, cop tools, I will not lose 

A million miles a minute is how my block moves 

I stay in the fast lane, never fakin', cheddar chasin' 

I'm in the game for the cash Mayne 

And bitches play this in they Benz's, Jeeps and G.O.'s 

They say I'm arrogant and got a big ego 

But they still love to swallow me up 

And every hotel suite, they wanna follow me up 

But I ain't gon' put my dick in for free, nah ma 

You want the kid then you gotta pay this pimpin' a fee 

And ain't no champagne left, so let's toast 'gnac 

Sky baller and Game 'bout to bring the West coast back 

I'm on that get dough shit 

That Frank War [unverified] pimpin' that ho shit 

In Cali smokin' that 'dro shit 

I still push fish scale, and china white 

A lil' nigga with a big gun and I ain't tryin' to fight 

Nigga you got a blunt then put it in the air 

Nigga you got a gun then put it in the air 

Nigga you from a gang then put in in the air 

Play with Killa Cali if you want, muh'fuckers