300 Bars & Runnin' Lyrics - Game

(INTRO) 

My mama took me to Sam Goody's 

I wanted to buy a 50 Cent CD 

I took that shit home 

That shit was wack like a muthaf**ka 

Don't f**k with Game 

I like 50 Cent 

He reminds me Spongebob 

And Tony Yayo is Blues Clues 

And Lloyd Banks is Dora the Explorer 

They're my friends 

Psyche 

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I went down one of them Bodaga shits right there in Harlem 

Got me a bootleg Lloyd Banks and Young Buck CD 

Took that shit home, put it in my boom box 

Thought I was bout to be on some radio Raheim shit 

Man that shit sound like some Vanessa Williams '88 

I mean Olivia cute but they say that bitch a man 

So this Black Wallstreet for life now 

GGG-UNOT! 

(GAME) 

300 Bars and Runnin 

Just loan me your ears for 15 minutes 

Walk with me 

Photos 

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster 

Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers 

Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he sober 

Like I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover 

Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little closer 

Before you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed 

Why would I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat 

That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot back 

Defending his yard, yeah standing his ground 

I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown 

Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square 

Watch everybody sleep through it 

We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines speak to 'em 

What they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it 

They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly 

What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly? 

See them *****z with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly 

Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly 

? said Curtis Jack in Philly 

Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly 

I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I told the cops 

So they wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock 

And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops 

Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot 

What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the spot 

Labels signing many things, still searching for they Pac 

I put purple on the block 

So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot 

Ask 50, it get lonely on top 

You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got 

When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop 

You sell records but a GGG-u not! 

Acting big on the radio, to me you not 

You can ask Mr. CCC who hot 

Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you flop 

Run up on that new 300 C you got 

Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop 

And I hope you black out before you see the cops 

I ain't hot top for colors, I'm from Cedar Block 

So I got my hot tops that make your breathing stop 

I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD shop 

I'm like Elvis in there, they can't believe you dropped 

Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's spot 

I picked up where my homeboy Eazy stopped 

I saw the west coast, put the shit on my back 

Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap 

It get hot in here, let Lucifer rap 

Bring hell to *****z when Dre producing a track 

Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat 

Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back 

Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back 

I'm still by your side, no matter who comes strapped 

F**k Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap 

It's about when the? clap, is rufus back 

I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so? 

Now you left leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe 

We got reservations in heaven, you ready? Let's go 

Drop them off, then pop cristal wit Esko 

I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre talk 

All Nas said back was he had a? 

Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see 

*****z running their mouth about what the f**k they gon' do to me 

But quit the yapping before I proceed to clapping 

And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me captured 

Even behind bars, I'm still gon' shine 

I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine 

Then I go right back, ***** I pop mines 

How you gon' drop Olivia, you only drop dimes 

I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog 

I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls 

1-800-split a faggot ***** wig 

He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge 

Now your career is over, career is over 

We in QB, banging CNN in the rover 

T-O-N-Y, that's the phony NORE 

You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring 

Take that shit off lingo, go back to PC 

And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3 

I'm airing their ass out on DVD 

You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me 

I'm a G-Unit toy soldier 

On Sesame street doing voice overs 

Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines 

Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes 

We was in the studio, when I first got signed 

He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some lines 

That's the wrong *****, when you need help with your rhymes 

All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more time 

Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef mine 

You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at Shyne? 

He freestyled from the pen, that's just the fact 

Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't f**ked with that 

Then you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap 

Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that 

I knew from the beginning I couldn't trust those cats 

I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo back 

The underground is mine, I treat it like home 

It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones 

The underground is mine, I treat it like home 

It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones 

The underground is mine, I treat it like home 

It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones 

I said 

The underground is mine, I treat it like home 

It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones 

And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and screw it 

Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit moving 

Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it 

Came with two hundred, ***** this is more than music 

Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer 

Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin 

And I beef with any *****, say my name muthaf**k I'm gunnin' 

You can put it on skee if you want it 

I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue 

And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe 

I told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid 

We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs 

Don't hit me on the sidekick asking what you did 

Get a gun or ask 50's police to use his 

'cause Bloods gonna get ya 

Bloods, Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain 

That 380 spill brains, when I pop shots 

Outside NY, in front of hip-hop cops 

Or broad day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre 

This ***** bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say 

Took me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes 

So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his face 

Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes 

'cause when you f**king with Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake 

For caking off *****z on them CD's and tapes 

Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he fake 

If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese cake 

Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay 

Not the instant replay 

I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like 

Bitches only feel your shit just a lil bit 

*****z only feel your shit just a lil bit 

On my album 50 helped me just a lil bit 

Only on two songs, now back to some killa shit 

My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla quick 

Beating on your chest, I see to your death, yep 

Tell Ecko to make him a suit 

Tell Reebock to make him some boots 

Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his head 

He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman 

Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man 

So the lieutenant gotta ask for his strings 

Take my advice, never wear air max for the? 

Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin king 

'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will sting 

And your cell mate is a 25 to lifer 

They'll stab you an foursome then f**k you on Rikers 

And Life Goes On 

Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my songs 

He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf 

So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for yourself 

***** stop acting tough before I stand over you 

Show you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre 

Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the last one 

Ten shots from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger 

Fase yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up 

Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum 

Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' backing up 

Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what 

Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I pass 'em up 

The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em 

In and out of lanes like a New York cab 

I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New York cab 

Who's this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake *****? 

Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the whole cake, ***** 

He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga 

If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you got? 

We getting tired of you talkin about who you shot 

I'll use another six bars to tell you who you not 

You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta 

You went out with Vivica, three months after wanksta 

Get Rich or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot 

Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Candy Shop 

C'mon man, what happened to the thug? 

Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging 

***** got mad when The Game start buzzing 

So f**k making friends now I'm into throwing slugs 

Olivia talking about we a family, Game had to go 

***** I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O 

'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you 

I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes 

Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group 

Just wanna sit here and wait 

To be gone, so I can head back to the block 

Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted 

Pull the brim low, if they don't get it 

Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it 

Four times platinum, I done been there and did it 

Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass with it 

They say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away 

So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day 

*****z hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to play 

And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a mistake 

So they can put me in the SWAT car and lock me away 

Give me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay 

Let me out so I can drive down criminal way 

Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay 

The summer too hot, and I want the winter to stay 

'cause I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the page 

Similar to them shells going into my gauge 

I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades 

And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got game 

Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain 

Now back to reality, my gun and my vest 

And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye West 

Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou wet jacob 

Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em 

And the flow is hot like that wit Satan 

And the only thing I got spinning is Daytons 

The hotter I get the more willing to snake 'em 

So soon as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em 

Compton Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars 

When Game in the house, they call? 

'cause they heard about what went on in D.C. 

Heard about Hot 97, my beef with 50 

Now tell me do he got a conscience? 

I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense 

Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference 

I'd rather be pushing rock, like? 

50 whispered in my ear, like we still bonding 

We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson 

Middle finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson 

Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the convict 

What happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming 

Doug E. Fresh and Dana Day on the corner like Common 

Now that ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen 

The flow is news, I throw it up like vomit 

And I still shine like diamonds 

They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman 

It's still Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit. 

I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I can't because 

I'm in the hood politican, Impala liffin' 

And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada denim 

Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison 

Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing 

Then re-up like kid before the d-cup 

Continuously getting money with my feet up 

Chasing the throne, here my black Air Force 

I said f**k Benzino and got the cover of The Source 

Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me 

But you ain't gon' do that so muthaf**ka move back 

While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks 

When I wake the dead, everybody remove hats 

We miss ya'll, can I get a hand clap? 

Now back to rap, why I gotta stay strapped? 

On that murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP 

They won't know which hole to patch up, when the? clap 

I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback 

It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash nigga? 

Say my name now that's your f**king ass nigga 

Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga 

Now I gotta lay you down like the last nigga 

Buck, buck, buck from my AK-47 

This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven 

Tryna play the game, talking shit up on the stereo 

Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O 

And you don't want that David 'cause you love your life 

Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter knifes 

Muthaf**ka I'ma show you who the gangsta 

All you do is Murder Inc., now who the wanksta? 

When Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row 

Juve left you for dead and went back to the NO 

50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your little flow 

Then he made you temporary replacement for Yayo 

You a bitch, and that's hard to swallow 

And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago 

I call my nigga Jojo to get it back 

He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten stacks 

Picture that, I thought we was G-Unit 

Then you ran and told 50 that I did that shit 

Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to find 

I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is Mine 

Take one shot of Brandy and pop 

Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy Shop 

F**k you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops 

And Olivia, I mean for a man she hot 

Now I'm running out of breath, like I just beat boxed 

Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet rock 

Don't worry about the flow, the boy know he hot 

Hurricanes in store November, nigga f**k Reebocks 

I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a tree top 

The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three spots 

280 in, ain't no getting me back 

I'm yelling f**k the world, on my victory lap 

Remember first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek 

Now it's whoever muthaf**ka, yeah, who want beef? 

Now whenever muthaf**ka, who wanna see me? 

In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in peace 

You don't want war nigga, you want peace 

So give 'em the peace, capiche (sp?) 

Let 'em rest in peace 

From west to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable 

Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan 

And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em 

If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon 

A king in the making, and the throne is for the taking 

So I climb the mountain top and put my stake in 

Got the weight of the world on my shoulder 

Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it over 

This is crack music, go get the baking soda 

300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the wait is over 

I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone