Bulletproof Diaries by Game
[Intro: Raekwon]
Sit in the chair, yeah, yeah
Uh-huh, yeah
Sit my alligator jacket on the flo'
Let that shit crawl around, what up Game?
How are you my nigga?
Let's get this money, you heard?
[The Game (Raekwon) - Verse 1]
Money in zip duffle bags, shotgun shells
My killas gorillas, niggaz couldn't see 'em with gazelles
Frontin' ass niggaz, go hang wit' Pharrell
Tryin' to be a Cowboy, you catch bullets like Terrell
Owens, call it T.O., he leakin' like a project sink
Busted open like a hot dog link
Bing, it gave me time to think yeah, I did my fuckin' prison thing
Came out still on point, like the RZA rings
I'm from Compton but my inkpen live in Queens
Rep the dub like Wu-Tang, and I got Killa Bees (Respect)
Black Wall Mafia, new millennium Genevieves
Got a million dollars say LeBron don't win a ring (Word?)
I know Kobe, I be on the floor, Kobe!
You know a nigga that can score 81? Show me
I got a Cuban Link to a fuckin' O.G.
And nigga you're too close, what the fuck, you tryna blow me? (Back up)
This the face off (Respect the don) diamonds all in the charm
(Iced out) Where you be? (The strip club throwin' ones)
Where you from? (New York, where you from?) Californ'
(Big sharks) Me too (Swimmin' in a pile of ones)
[Interlude: Raekwon]
Yeah nigga, tomorrow man
Goin to take you to go buy some 18-karat gold golf clubs nigga
In the Bronx
[Raekwon (The Game) - Verse 2]
This the face off (Respect the dons, hundred thousand on the arms)
Son where you be? (Under palm trees stayin' warm)
(Who you be?) Raekwon, who is you? (Amaz-on)
I'ma keep it (Compton) Staten (Till the day's done)
[Interlude: Raekwon]
Geah, frontin' on us nigga, it's like
It's like racin' a nigga in Afghanistan to go get some oil nigga
You gon' fuck around and get your head burnt
[Raekwon - Verse 3]
I'm a New York dinosaur, Staten Island artifact
Hip hop's never dead, the Cuban gave 'em heart attacks
Sleep in the woods, target cats come from under the V's
Sneeze wrong, course I'm clappin'
Keep it movin' homeboy, the macs always actin'
Spit in your face, go 'head lil' baby rappers
Can't fuck with us convicts, Stat-lands
It's like actions, cliques'll die right with traction
It's Wall Street money and two gunnys
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