Текст песни The Game — How We Do Lyrics

This is how we do
We make a move and act a fool while we up in the club
This is how we do
Nobody do it like we do it so show us some love

Fresh like, unhh; Impala, unnh
Chrome hydraulics, 808 drums
You don’t want none, Nigga betta run
When beef is on I’ll pop that trunk
Come get some, Pistol grip pump
If a nigga step on my white Air Ones
It’s red rum, Ready here I come
Compton unh, Dre found me in the slums
Sellin’ that skunk, one hand on my gun
I was sellin rocks when Master P was sayin «Unnnh»
Buck pass the blunt
These G-Unit girls just wanna have fun
Coke and rum, Got weed on the ton
I’m bangin with my hand up her dress like, unh
I’ll make her cum, purple haze in my lungs
Whole gang in the front, in case a nigga wanna stunt

I put Lamborghini doors on that Es-ca-lade
Low pro so look like I’m riding on blades
In one year mane, a nigga ‘s so paid
I have a straight bitch in the telly goin’ both ways (Ah!)
Touch me, tease me, kiss me, please me
I give it to ya just how you like it girl
You know I’m rockin with the best Tré pound on my hip
Teflon on my chest
They say I’m no good, cause I’m so hood
Rich folks do not want me around
Cause shit might pop off, and if shit pop off
Somebody gon’ get laid the fuck out
They call me new money, say I have no class
I’m from the bottom, I came up too fast
The hell if I care, I’m just here to get my cash
Bougie ass bitches, you can kiss my ass

I put gold Daytonas on that Cherry Six-Four
White walls so clean it’s like I’m ridin on Vogues
Hit one switch mane, that ass so low
Cali got niggas in New York ridin on hundred spokes
Touch me, tease me, kiss me, please me
I give it to ya just how you like it girl
You know I’m rockin with the best fo’ pound on my hip
Gold chain on my chest (Ah!)

50, unh
Bentley, unh
Em came ‘n gotta nigga fresh out the slum
Automatic gun
Fuck ’em one-on-one
We wrap up ya punk ass, stunt ‘n ya done
Homie it’s Game time
[The Game:]
You ready? Here I come
Call Lloyd Banks and get this motherfucker crunk
It took two months
But Fifty got it done
Signed with G-unit
Had niggas like, «huh?»
Don’t try to front
I’ll leave yo’ ass slumped
Thinkin I’m a punk
Get your fuckin head lumped
Fifty got a — gun
[50 Cent:]
Ready here he come
Gotta sick, vendetta
To get this, chedda
Meet my Ba — Retta
The dra-ma — setta
Sip Am-a — retta
My flow sounds, betta
Than average
On tracks I’m a savage
I damage
Any nigga tryin’ to front on my clique (G-Unit!)

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