LYRICS to The Game's 9 Minute Freestyle

[Pinokit21]

I got this from the www.allhiphop.com forums.  I didn't type out the lyrics, so If some are wrong, it wasn't me. PEEP

http://www.theblackwallstreet.com/THEGAME200BARSNRUNNIN.mp3


The fuck is all this noise?
He from cali, he can’t rap…
He ain’t better than this nigga,
That’s my favorite artist..
FUCK YA’LL: here the break down…

No Detox, I’m comfortable dawg,
Like the sole of Reeboks, right up under me dawg,
And it feel like I done it before
Sit in the thrown pollutin the airwaves like a Hummer exhaust
Don’t let Makaveli fool you homie, thug in ?
Pour out a lil’ liquor for the love ones that we lost
You ain’t gotta wait for the album I don’t fuck with the Source
But I turn up my Eazy-E and let it bump in the Porsche
I mean turn up my B.I.G. and let it bump in the Porsche
Tell em’ to roll the red carpet When he come to New York
Hip-Hop police on me think they runnin’ New York
Till I lace my Air-1’s show em’ how to run in New York
They tryin’ to take me down-town put me under the court
Joe Buddens’ told em’ I carry a gun in New york
And homie that’s strictly fact
He got ripped on wax
So he snitched just to get me back
No matter what you say dawg, the shit be wack
Better watch what you say it might get you clapped
Here’s a lil’ advice homie, switch your raps
Cuz that shit on your last album ain’t get you plaques
What nigga, you need a gun? I’ll get you that
P-89, nigga, let Dre stitch you back
Where the nitty street niggas, I admit to that
But I don’t even want your chain I let the crips do that
Twelve bars for that bitch he won’t live through that
Even a nigga with a Ten Year Bid knew that
Put a gun in his mouth, Yea, Yea, do that
He a pussy, his own kid do that
I’m +Ready To Die+, BIG knew that
He ain’t eatin, look at his white T you can see his ribs through that
You cock-sucker let ya’ whiz through that
Or rhyme letter, do me, ooh we, now back to rap
Two Lincoln continentals sittin’ back to back
Leavin’ Jersey city, nah, nigga Hackie-Sack
Where’s that?
Some where where the crack is at
Real far from where the roaches and rats is at
Come to Compton I’ll show you where the ratchets at
Down the street from the Staples center where they Hack-A-Shaq
Give me the advance money back, I ain’t have to rap
Break Hairy-O Out, tell em’ crack is back
That’s nine-five a bird, take half of that
Imported, exported in cracka’-jacks
When you get to projects, ask for Black’
You know what you started with, give em’ half of that
He gon’ give you fifty g’s and a plastic sack
And I’ma give you thirty five hundred cash for that
Gotta keep ya’ mouth closed or I’ma blast the mack
And won’t believe/ the whole world know that bastard rap

Once you out of the thrown you can’t have it back
Retirement home, and ain’t nothing’ afta that
Except you layin’ in the casket black
Suit on, you can’t go to heaven with Timberland boots on
No subliminals, I ain’t talkin to you Shawn

I’m talkin to that heartless mouse with no jewels on
Who the fuck put you on?
Faggot ass nigga let men toss his salad like Crutons
I fuck with Fag, keep my DJ Clue on
Sit in Hot 97 with no tools on
And it don’t matter if it’s Sway or Kay-Slay
Angie Martinez I take em’ back to K Day
They act like they forgot about Dre Day
I don’t rap for Free, that’s why they fired A.J.
It’s me leakin through your stereo
+Envy+ me as the M.C./ prepare for your burial
I kill niggas without letting’ the +Desert+ blow
Razor tongue, and I’m far from Haitian, son
All black like the range rover wheels
Niggas wish around the game like the game won’t kill
Let me show you the stars take you back to the car
Rewind time, march 3rd, 1994
I was only in my teens, deuce-deuce in my Levi’s
When Nas hit the scene, I was still rockin knee-highs’
Runnin’ with my brother Face he was seventeen
Two guns in the upper waist so he hit the block
Saw niggas from a rival gang, bumpin’ Dre
Ran up on the Six-Four and that’s all she wrote
We runnin’ through the alley like Bishop chasin’ Rada- Manz
First murda and I did that without a mask
Fast fluency game getting out of jam
Two-Piece suit on, he still got his rag
Game banga’ forever he still got his swag
Let me catch you in Los Angeles without a pass
Everybody in New York know that you a fag
Come out the closet show the world how to use a pad
Speakin’ death on my red bandana
Nah he couldn’t of said that so I raised my an-tenna
Looked at my Nextel got a call from Santana
“That nigga a pussy, we just saw him in AT-lanta”
So I hopped on the first thing smoking’ to AT-lanta
Pulled up in 112, ran up on that black phantom
Security hopped out, "no Joe in here"
just Outkast getting’ ready for a show in here
So I uncocked the 44, hopped in the cherry lo-lo
Chrome grill with the G-unit logo
We watch Hov' go
now the world waitin on my solo
I’m the man, Stat Quo know
I ain’t gotta explain, even Po’ know
Half of these rap niggas is fakin in blows’ gold
Get hit in the face with the back of the 4-4

And pissed on tryin’ to play the game with a broke nose
My bitch harder than you, yeah, Vida Loco
I ain’t sold one record, got rap in a choke hold
I’m Dre certified, like the leader of the Band
Run up, you show the dot, I’ll leave you where you stand
Smurfette’ run around New York like he the man
But he pee’d in his pants when he saw us at Summer Jam
Lucky I wasn’t there, I had to bury my man
Who I would’ve terrorized New York like the Son of Sam
What you mean terroize New York?
I mean expose these pussy ass niggas like I’m Too $hort
Somebody tell Domintation I’ll leave him in parts
Leg-and-jersey, arm in Brooklyn, head buried in Central Park
He can’t walk through New York no more like John Stalks
Got a court? Cuz I’ma break his ankles like Hot Sauce
Ask niggas from your hood, I’m thorough in five boroughs
Sit on any stoop, Pelle’, Tims…in a thermo
Wait till Alpo’ come home, like AZ from Harlem
Dre gon pay me regardless
Cuz he know Jay-Z departed
Than these other rap labels don’t feed they artists
Talkin’ BluePrint shit you got three Dee-(B)arges
Get money off ROC like Gloria Carter
Showin’ off ya’ lil’ chain like these is’ flawless
Send em’ 50 Cent a day, I can see he starving
I Got R-n-B bitches givin’ me menages,
deep massages, I can hear Eazy talkin
Telling me to have a seat in Tamika’s office
Buy Ruthless and get lil’ E involved in
Promote without that magazine in Boston
Take a couple mil’, make Beans’ a offer
Give him money we don’t see that often
But it was all a dream-
Like I seen, Memph Bleek in Marcy
I ain’t say you gon’ see Bleek in Marcy
I said my man told me “He don’t see Bleek in Marcy”
I’m from Compton where niggas used to bleed from balkers
Drive lo-lo’s, and we ain’t need keys to start em’
Just a lil’ information for ya’ summer vacation
Bring ya’ chain cuz every nigga in L.A. waitin
Mad cuz Detroit beat the shit out the Lakers
And then kill you cuz they can’t find Gary Payton
Meanwhile the thrown vacant and the band ain’t makin it
Shyne got a new deal Def Jam gotta’ pay his rent
Roy Jones got knocked out shortly after they weighed him in
And niggas got beef with G-Unit but ain’t sayin’ shit
Quiet as a church on Tuesdays, niggas say they hate my music
But my alert’s on they two-ways

Nigga I’m a hazard
Michael Jackson in khakis
Touch kids but I do that with a semi automatic
With or without traffic
I pull my shit out, blast it
I’m Blind to the masses
Like Stevie Wonder without glasses
I’ma savage spit murder like a 38 magnum
Sixteen bars an’ bag em’, let the hood toe tag em
Murder any M.C. throw em’ in that white wagon
Let em’ die and come back, look at em, he white flaggin
Spread rumors, like when I see Game I might jack him
I’m telling’ the world he beef with my chain I might clap him
Cuz niggas shot me in 2001
Took one in the heart cuz I was to proud to run
The clip was empty when police found my gun
So I don’t bring that gang bang shit around my son
Nigga 50 took nine, he know how it feel
And I found out Buck’ got shot up in Ca$hville
And Sha’ Money told me Lloyd Banks got hit
And Yayo just came home…
G-G-G-G-UNIT!!!
Backstage at a D12 concert
A fan asked me how it feels to be walkin’ in Snoops’ Converse
Niggas show me love when they see me in the streets
But they frown when I don’t wanna hear none of they beats
Nigga this shit crazy
Em said some shit when he was sixteen now they tryin’ to ruin Slim Shady
I forgive him I got problems of my own
How you think the streets gon’ act now that Suge home?
These niggas is birds I can see the feathers on em’
If DOC gimmie the word I put his Beretta on em’
And when the beef is on,
my piece is on
The white sheets is on em
Tha’ doc breathin’ on em
And I gotta extra clip in my reeboks
Cuz I’m in and out my socks every time I see cops
Game got the streets locked
call 9-1-1
Get the whole fuckin L.A.P.D. shot
Niggas snitchin to the street cops
Getcha’ nephews and yah’ niece shot
When my heat cocked
And the beef stop
Nigga wit a attitude like I heard Dr. Dre doin’ Detox
Niggas fightin’ for the thrown, that ain’t shit
Tryin’ to measure the fallin legends but the shoe won’t fit
Niggas might think I’m ridin’ dick
Cuz I’m at the cemetery puttin’ creases’ in my G-UNIT's!
Tryin’ to talk Jesus Christ into letting’ me dig em’ up
So they can stand side by side again and live it up
This might be the last time you hear me biggin’ them up
Suicidal thoughts, bangin’ “Me and My Bitch” in the truck
My conscience telling me if I put my clip in the bucket
It might be loud enough to wake BIG and em’ up
What if that was P.Diddy sittin’ in the truck
And Tupac was in jail and didn’t record “Hit em’ Up?”
I wouldn’t be outside of 40/40 bumpin “Jigga What?”
I wouldn’t be signed to Dr. Dre, I wonder "is it luck?"
It got me on MTV with Banks, Fif’ and Buck
I ain’t tryin’ to be L.A.’s king, he carry a pimp cup

Snoop Dogg got the crown nigga!!!

Fuck ya’ll at mad me for?

I ain’t sold one fuckin’ record

I’m just tryin’ to use this 200 bars and feed my family nigga

I ain’t no threat

I can’t rap, I’m from Compton, remember?

You gotta be out yo’ motha-fuckin-mind…

Ask Kay-Slay, ask Clue, axe’ Whoo Kid, axe’ Funk Flex,

I’ll murder any one of you mother fuckers

G-g-g-G-UNIT!

AH!




Edit: Couple corrections

[Pinokit21]

He ain't dissin Jay-Z, he ain't dissin Em, and he ain't dissin Tomika Wright.

He did diss Bleek, Budden, and The Source

[Don Seer]

props for posting this up.. i'll get my karaoke on once the footies over  

[UKnowWhatItIs: welcome to my traps....game over]

& he dissed Domination,good lookin on this shit man.

[Pinokit21]

Maybe this freestyle will shut all the people talkin shit on Game up.  If this ain't proof that homeboy can rap....i DONT KNOW WHAT IS!!

[UKnowWhatItIs: welcome to my traps....game over]

^exactly

[DAYUM]

i kinda like domination and bang em smurf  

but the game is dope

[Lil Jay]

the beginning was fire, he had like 40 lines rhymin to that/rap/wack/mack, that was ridiculous

[Jome]

Crazy.  

[DrewDogg]

Somebody needs to post this! I wanna hear it! the wallstreet link ain't workin for me!

[Darksider]

thanks

[CRAFTY]

the beginning was fire, he had like 40 lines rhymin to that/rap/wack/mack, that was ridiculous

True...his lyricism is definitely being shown in this song.

[goldeneyeoutlaw]

amazing....