Dope Game Lyrics - Spm: The Purity Album - South Park

Check one, check two, lets take a cruise 

I done did the game every which way but loose 

Nothing left to do except collect my cash 

And I bet that ass that the mex gon' last 

Put the past on paper, threw away my pager 

'cause these boys keep callin from locs to cookie baker 

Mama saved em from the hate, now I'm hard with the pain 

I'm in the place in your face tryin to sell you a tape 

I break records in texas creepin in caddies and benzes 

And a pretender if he step up to the bullet bartender 

I bet I check and wreck a sucker riding bumper to bumper 

I might dump the whole clip and miss and hit your uncle 

I ain't trippin, flippin, sippin on purple lipton 

Diggin women in the drop lemon, g livin 

I was driven to my last nerve, hittin curbs 

Puttin twenties on a grass hurst 

End of verse 

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[chorus x2] 

No shame 

Welcome to the dope game 

This is were we don't play 

Leave your boys with no brains 

Whoridas 

I remember long ago I never got no love 

Still I knew that one day I'd be popular 

I used to stand in the circle trying to smoke your bud 

Just hopin that the blunt wouldn't pass me up 

I used to ask for a sip of your syrup 

I used to never walk around with the white cup 

Now I eat eighteen steaks, on silver plates 

Girls fanin my face, others give me grapes 

By the grace of god, I was given the job 

To run through the rap game like corn on the cob 

So blessed in my test, I bought my sets in the southwest 

I ain't got no credit cards except mexican express 

I'ma dress my baby girl and rock the whole damn world 

If you needs tracks happy p got my referal 

Your head twirl to the sounds of the sp mex 

Ridin in the lex with a dog named plex 

Southside to the north, at the old golf course 

The valet the white porsche with the bulletproof doors 

Photos 

[chorus x2] 

It's the l-o-s c-o-y 

Pack the pistola, oh me oh my 

My nina shine like the sun, I never ask for a crumb 

For breakfast my chef makes me eggs-fuyon 

I've come from the hills of ghetto thrills and chills 

Three wheelin, dope dealin, killin nothin but squeels 

My third wish was to break this curse and myth 

Now I'm worldwide status on your satilite dish 

Punk checker, chump wrecker, got the salt and the pepper 

Left a mark in the game and never been a half stepper 

Leopard skin on my couch, be like oscar the grouch 

From the streets, pullin rocks out my kangaroo pouch 

But I told these boys, never at my house 

Whether it's the ounce that puts leather on my couch 

A thousand dollars a week, my baby girl's allowance 

Dope house bouncin cash to my forgein accounts 

[chorus x2]