Still Me Lyrics - Black Wall Street Journal, Vol. 1 - Game

[Verse 1:] 

Straight outta the motherfuckin pissy hallways in the projects 

To park in a four door Bentley on my set. 

Same hood, same motherfuckin steps 

I sat on and took the plastic off of "Life After Death" 

Bangin, boning Biggie Biggie i did a 360 

The Aftermath for that is the nigga 50 aint wit me. 

No hard feelings, we both made millions 

You can hate me or love me but nigga I spit real shit, 

Like I'm comatose, tell the Doc I'm sick 

Before "Detox", let me take my last chronic hit. 

Now I am gangsta rap inhale the weed smoke 

And coughed up five platinum plaques 

So Ima let the nigga Dr. Dre hit 

Next time I have dreams of fuckin an R&B bitch (dreams of fuckin an R&B bitch) 

I don't make love, I make hits. 

I put a condom on and stuff my dick in this Hip Hop shit. 

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[Chorus: x2] 

Feels Good 

Gangsta 

[Verse 2:] 

Im that six figure nigga 

Photos 

Who got the word from KRS-ONE 

And stole the Blueprint from Jigga 

Niggas yellin Game did this, Game did that 

Game aint do shit but bring the motherfuckin West Coast back 

I hear the whisperin goin on in the hood. 

I sent a motherfuckin Hallmark card to Suge 

That nigga know that we all good 

So you can catch a cab to Hell wit them death threats 

I'm already dead 

I put the .38 revolver to my own fuckin head 

Before I let the shit eat my conscience. 

Aint a nigga in the world could tell me I can't come thru Compton. 

Before I retire my Converse, I'll ride the train thru NYC with the terrorist bombers. 

Somebody tell my mama I'm crazy. 

Pop was a Rolling Stone so that makes me a crack baby. 

I'm in rehab three times a week 

Because I'm a motherfuckin feen for a Dr. Dre beat. 

[Chorus x2] 

[Chorus x2]