Lookin' At You - Lyrics - Game
A game is structured playing, usually undertaken for enjoyment and sometimes used as an educational tool. Games are distinct from work, which is usually carried out for remuneration, and from art, which is more often an expression of aesthetic or ideological elements. However, the distinction is not clear-cut, and many games are also considered to be work or art .
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(Hook)
Walkin down the street in my All-Stars
In my khaki suit, doin' what I do
Walkin down the street, smokin chronic
In my black lokes, lookin at you
(Verse 1)
Guess who's back on the West Coast tracks
It's the *** messiah of gangsta rap
Still dippin in 64's, still puffin on the same chronic
Haters mad 'cause I still got it
I never fall off even without the Doc
You *** sellin your soul tryin to stay on top
*** ***, check your Kotex
You *** ain't movin *** like the hand on a fake-*** rolex
I'm five million sold
The cover of my last album the only time you see me sittin on gold
I'm the most anticipated, most celebrated,
Most loved, and the *** most hated,
Keep rollin like gold daytons
You *** got the game *** up like Hennessey with a coke chaser
You gotta deal with me, I'm the west coast savior
*** think of me every time they 64 scrape
(Some dude)
What do you call a *** who's overbearing, belligerent, foul, defiant and very disrespectful?
You call that *** the +Doctor's Advocate+
He's a reflection of Dr. Dre in his heyday in the worst way
The five star surgeon general
Took Jay-Z to the alchem lab and gave him a blood test that
Came back G-A-M-E positive
The *** infected with the game virus
Is over-rhetorical is so impeccable
That *** in the street call him sarge
The young is down with violence
In his heart he's retired
It's not a game, it's just called a game
There'll be no referees, no half-time reports
When the game is over, the game is over
You can't put a card in the machine and get three more men
That's the end
(Hook)
I be walkin' down the street in my All-Stars
In my khaki suit, doin' what I do
Walkin down the street smokin chronic
In my black lokes, lookin' at you
(Verse 2)
I done been to hell and back, left for dead,
You know who to thank for that
Finished my second LP without a Dr. Dre track
You can take my soul but can't take my plaques
I'm the *** snare when it touch the beat
I'm the 808 drum that got you movin your feet
I'm the heir to the throne after the D-R-E
Product of my environment
You old *** *** get ready for your early retirement
Before I let hip-hop burn down I'll run in the buildin' like a fireman
Who can outspit me when I'm high off sticky
Throwin back Patron shots in some creased-up Dickies
I'm DOC certified, Ice Cube lynch man,
Snoop stamped me and the good Doc hand picked me,
You still with me?
Me and my mic can't be separated like Interscope and, ha ha...
Oh, ***
Some good *** *** weed
That California sticky green
This is the aftermath of the Aftermath...
West Coast
