The Game - Fucked Up lyrics

rate me

[Hook: Game]

These niggas got me fucked up [x4]

These niggas got me, I think

These niggas got me fucked up

[Verse 1: Game]

I be on the block with that chrome boy, Postin' up with my home boy

Leanin' on the 2 tone boy, What you want for them zones boy

10-5, 10-4, put it on the scale, add a little more

Take a shot of that 'tron boy, bag it up and then gone boy

They givin' [?] out, watch yourself on that phone boy

They gave me seven [?], mama singing that song boy

We gettin' money baby, we gettin' cash money

Stuntin' like I'm Birdman, sittin' on my cash

120 on the dash, 4 [?] on the wheeeeels

Paper stacking too long boy, blowing cheech and that chong boy

Better watch that tone boy, headshots to that dome boy

[Hook x2]

[Verse 2: Menace]

Think a nigga trip the way I walk around

Gotta keep that pistol on my hip to lay them haters down

Gotta keep them bitches on my dick then I bring [?] around

Paper stash gon' break em down, fuck 'em hard don't make a sound

I'm all about that trap boy, ride around with that pistol

Gotta keep the bitch in my lap boy, hater niggas, come get ya

Made my niggas [?], my niggas clean, we do it [?], try to intervene

That's suicide fuckin' with my team, I'm blowing clouds and I'm 'bout the cream

Yeah, and I'm bout that shit, we full of chips, and I'm [?] hoes

Y'all full of shit, not suckin' the O's, I'm too legit and I'm tippin' 4's

Niggas really want it, bitches lookin' silly for it

Really kill the niggas for it, niggas lookin' real important

[Hook x2]

[Verse 3: Game]

Say boy, ever had a bitch all up in your crib

Stickin' that dick all up in the ribs

Then she tell fuck niggas where you live

And now they all up in your shit

Flippin' matresses over, turnin' couches sideways

They thinkin' crime pays

Got a choppa

For the niggas that don't understand how the fuck we ope-

-rate and anyway get back on top of my paper chase

Kush burnin', smell the dragon, 29's, been had 'em

Niggas take shots, then runnin' high

We'll find their ass, Bin Ladin

Me and Mike in the Benz wagon, better watch your block boy

Purple clouds of that Pepe Lepue, I'm gone of that Ciroc boy

Clipped up to that pop boy, holdin' on to that knot boy

Palms grippin' that Glock boy, we comin' back for them yachts boy

[Hook x2]