Let's Ride
Pull the rag off the six-fo'
Hit the switch, show niggas how the shit go
The Game is back, the Aftermath chain is gone
The D's is chrome, the frame is black
(So watch it lift up)
'Til the motherfucker bounce and break
And knock both of the screws out the licence plate
Let the games begin
These other rap niggas so far behind they can taste my rims
Shit, let the chronic burn as the Daytons spin
It ain't been this much drama since I first heard Eminem
In the club, poppin' X pills like M&Ms
Call it Dre day, we celebratin', bitch bring a friend
Bottles on me, tell the waiter to order another round
And put that cheap-ass hypnotic down
(Put your 'cris up!)
If you feel the same way
Who got 'em hittin' switches NY to LA
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as it got bitches in the back
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass
(If I could sit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the West Coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash
In a blunt, call it Aftermath
Somebody tell me where the drinks at
Where the bitches at
You fucking on the first night, meet me in the back
I got a pound of chronic, and a gang of freaks
Move bitch! Who the fuck you think they came to see?
The protégé of the D-R-E
You take a picture with him, and you gotta fuck me
And you gotta fuck Busta, can't touch Eve
Got something in my waist that you can't touch either
That's, my gangsta bitch, and like Crips and Bloods
I'm in the club on some gangsta shit
(So nigga twist up)
Light another dub
Bitches get scared when niggas start fighting in the club
Ain't nothing but a g-thing, baby it's a g-thing
Bounce like you got hydraulics in your g-string
I fuck a different bitch seven days a week
Hit the switch, watch it bounce like a Scott Storch beat
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as it got bitches in the back
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass
(If I could sit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the West Coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash
In a blunt, call it Aftermath
Niggas thought I wasn't coming back, look at me now
Hoppin' out the same Cherry six-fo' with the motherfucking top down
I'm The Game, nigga
Call your bitch, she ain't home, she with Game, nigga
Remember that, Dre
You passed me the torch
I lit the chronic with it, now the world is my ashtray
Ridin' three-wheel motion 'til the ass scrapes
Turn sunset into a motherfucking drag-race
Now watch it bounce
Hit the switch, let it bounce 'til the police shut the shit down
(When you hit the club)
Tell 'em you came with me
(We gonna twist up)
In the V.I.P
It's a new day, and if you ever knew Dre
Motherfucker, you would say I was the new Dre
Same Impala, different spokes
Same chronic, just a different smoke
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as it got bitches in the back
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass
(If I could sit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the West Coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash
In a blunt, call it Aftermath
Hit the switch, show niggas how the shit go
The Game is back, the Aftermath chain is gone
The D's is chrome, the frame is black
(So watch it lift up)
'Til the motherfucker bounce and break
And knock both of the screws out the licence plate
Let the games begin
These other rap niggas so far behind they can taste my rims
Shit, let the chronic burn as the Daytons spin
It ain't been this much drama since I first heard Eminem
In the club, poppin' X pills like M&Ms
Call it Dre day, we celebratin', bitch bring a friend
Bottles on me, tell the waiter to order another round
And put that cheap-ass hypnotic down
(Put your 'cris up!)
If you feel the same way
Who got 'em hittin' switches NY to LA
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as it got bitches in the back
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass
(If I could sit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the West Coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash
In a blunt, call it Aftermath
Somebody tell me where the drinks at
Where the bitches at
You fucking on the first night, meet me in the back
I got a pound of chronic, and a gang of freaks
Move bitch! Who the fuck you think they came to see?
The protégé of the D-R-E
You take a picture with him, and you gotta fuck me
And you gotta fuck Busta, can't touch Eve
Got something in my waist that you can't touch either
That's, my gangsta bitch, and like Crips and Bloods
I'm in the club on some gangsta shit
(So nigga twist up)
Light another dub
Bitches get scared when niggas start fighting in the club
Ain't nothing but a g-thing, baby it's a g-thing
Bounce like you got hydraulics in your g-string
I fuck a different bitch seven days a week
Hit the switch, watch it bounce like a Scott Storch beat
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as it got bitches in the back
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass
(If I could sit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the West Coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash
In a blunt, call it Aftermath
Niggas thought I wasn't coming back, look at me now
Hoppin' out the same Cherry six-fo' with the motherfucking top down
I'm The Game, nigga
Call your bitch, she ain't home, she with Game, nigga
Remember that, Dre
You passed me the torch
I lit the chronic with it, now the world is my ashtray
Ridin' three-wheel motion 'til the ass scrapes
Turn sunset into a motherfucking drag-race
Now watch it bounce
Hit the switch, let it bounce 'til the police shut the shit down
(When you hit the club)
Tell 'em you came with me
(We gonna twist up)
In the V.I.P
It's a new day, and if you ever knew Dre
Motherfucker, you would say I was the new Dre
Same Impala, different spokes
Same chronic, just a different smoke
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as it got bitches in the back
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass
(If I could sit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the West Coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash
In a blunt, call it Aftermath
Credits
Writer(s): Scott Spencer Storch, Jayceon Taylor
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.