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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Game
The Game
Vocals
Big Hit
Big Hit
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jayceon Terrell Taylor
Jayceon Terrell Taylor
Songwriter
Chauncey Hollis Sr.
Chauncey Hollis Sr.
Songwriter
Chauncey Hollis, Jr.
Chauncey Hollis, Jr.
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Hit-Boy
Hit-Boy
Producer
David Kim
David Kim
Mixing Engineer
Dāvis Strauss
Dāvis Strauss
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Ooh, baby Ooh, baby Oh Father first, real nigga second Red stripes on my Adidas 'cause can't nobody check 'em Born with no direction, so I carved out my section You gotta live life until just wakin' up become a blessing Westside legend, my fightin' style Tekken But I've been in mortal combat, so if the TECs fly, let 'em Gonzales Park legend 'til I had to make my exit Too many souls lost at the Central and Rosecrans intersection I guess that's my confession 'Side from that I got a question, where'd the coke come from? Before they gave it to the Mexicans? Never mind, that's too complex when you ain't got time to be reflectin' One blink and you in heaven Niggas off with your necklace Southern 50 cal, you cook it, they gon' test it Sniff lines that we crossed right off that gold Lexus 'Round here, we call that big hit, some things never change 'Cept 213 to 310, everything yap is still the same Strip the whole game down and leave Earth just how I came If they ask, tell 'em Hit-Boy robbed this motherfuckin' train (Hit-Boy) Menace to society, who ain't forgot what happened to Caine? So I tightened strings on my Cortez and stay in my Denver lane Black man, Black man You know what's gold in black sands? Golden gloves, black hands, shackles feel like diamond bands I don't understand, I don't agree, I don't consent to nothin' Fuck a guilty plea, I ain't never sneak shit through customs I ain't got a 3D printer makin' ghost guns and miniatures All this fuckin' fentanyl, Blood, they playin' us sinister Big Pharma, new diseases, big dollars Big doctors, big nurses, big plotting, big working Issuin' out the wrong medication Really trying to merk you Pops went in, stomach hurtin' But ain't make it out alive Crackers swept it under the rug, called it COVID, let it slide Fuck a lawsuit, I'm callin' all troops Callin' Keyways and Woos They called us primates and spooks We took the whole NBA and renamed it, "Hoops" Made it cool to smoke weed Spiced it up, called it, "Fruits" Put a twist on the sex slang, we called it, "Knockin' boots" Unc' used to violate, back to back, all the time In prison all his life, now this shit is legalized The truth is in my eyes, you ever seen a Blood cry? I'm lookin' in the sky, asking Pac and Eazy, "Why?" Do we go from the pen to the pen Black woman to black man Black child to my black friends Black-on-black crime, admittin' my black sins Sitting with my black thoughts in the back of my black Benz Black tops on the black top, poisonin' black fiends In black neighborhoods, erasing the black dreams Black soul, taken from a black king Leaves a broken black heart inside of a black queen (black queen) Ooh, baby Ooh, baby
Writer(s): Jayceon Terrell Taylor, Chauncey A. Hollis, Chancey Hollis Sr. Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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