Listen to Let's Ride by The Game

Let's Ride

The Game

Hip-Hop/Rap

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Game
The Game
Vocals
Aaron Fishbein
Aaron Fishbein
Guitar
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jayceon Terrell Taylor
Jayceon Terrell Taylor
Songwriter
Scott Storch
Scott Storch
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Scott Storch
Scott Storch
Producer
Conrad Golding
Conrad Golding
Recording Engineer
Wayne Allison
Wayne Allison
Recording Engineer
Brian Sumner
Brian Sumner
Recording Engineer
Vadim Chislov
Vadim Chislov
Assistant Recording Engineer
Asif Ali
Asif Ali
Assistant Recording Engineer
Doug Wilson
Doug Wilson
Mixing Engineer
Bernie Grundman
Bernie Grundman
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

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
Writer(s): Irving Lorenzo, Robert Mays, Jeffrey Atkins Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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