It's Ok (one Blood) Lyrics - Game

Dre, I see dead people! 

(Junior Reid) 

Modern vampires of the city 

HUNTING BLOOD 

BLOOOOOOD BLUH-UD 

(The Game) 

Yo Dre, thought I was dead 

West Coast... 

(Verse 1) 

I'm the Doctor's Advocate 

Nigga, Dre shot ya 

Brought me back from the dead 

That's why they call him the doctor 

The 'Math gon' drop him, and 50 ain't rockin with him no more 

It's OK, I get it poppin' 

Whole club rockin like a '64 Impala 

Drink Cris, throw it up, call the shit hydraulics 

Then piss in the cup, call the shit hypnotic 

I bleed Compton, spit crack and shit chronic 

And you new niggas ain't shit but new niggas 

Bathin' Ape shoe niggas, 

I'm talkin' to YOU, nigga 

Bounce in a '64, throwin up West Side, man 

Sell another five million albums, yes I am 

Fresh like, Damn, this nigga did it again 

A hundred thousand on his neck 

LA above the brim, 

Inside the Lambo, shotgun with Snoop, 

What would the mothafuckin West Coast be without one crip and 

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(Hook) 

(Verse 2) 

I'm from the West Side of the '64 Impala 

When niggas say where you from, we don't never say holla 

Bandana on the right side, gun on the left side 

Niggas in New York know how to throw up the West Side 

Word to Eazy, I'm so ill, believe me 

I made room for Jeezy, but the rest of you niggas better be glad you breathin 

All I need is one reason 

I'm the king and Dre said it, the West Coast need me 

I don't know why you niggas keep tryin me 

Everybody know that I'm the heir to the Aftermath dynasty 

And I ain't gotta make shit for the club 

What DJ gon' turn down the 38 snub? 

You 38 and you still rappin? Ugh-- 

I'm 26, nigga, so is the dubs 

On the '07 Hummer, hop out, no bodyguards 

When the chronic smoke clear, all you gon' see is 

Photos 

(Hook) 

(Verse 3) 

I ain't got beef with 50 

No beef with Jay 

What's beef when you gettin' head in a six tre 

And the double Game chains? I keep 'em on display 

Black t-shirts so all you see is the A 

Turn on the TV and all you see is the A 

You niggas better make up a dance, try to get radio play 

Keep on snappin your fingers I ain't goin' away 

I don't regret what I spit 'cause I know what I say 

And niggas keep talkin about me, they don't know when to stop 

I got the Louis Vuitton belt buckle holdin' the glock 

No beam, no silencer, I know when to pop 

Wait till Lil Jon come on and let off a shot 

I had the number one Billboard spot 

Niggas stepped on my fingers and I climbed right back to the top 

I'm Big, I'm Cube, I'm Nas, I'm Pac, 

This ain't shit but a warnin' till my album drop 

(Hook)