The Game feat. JT & Get Low Krush Groove Lyrics

West Coast Resurrection Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 Intro
  • 2 The Streetz of Compton
  • 3 Blacksox
  • 4 Krush Groove
  • 5 Troublesome
  • 6 Rookie Card
  • 7 Promised Land
  • 8 Gutta Boyz
  • 9 Put It in the Air
  • 10 Desperados
  • 11 100 Barz and Gunnin
  • 12 Work Hard
  • 13 Untold Story
  • 14 Outro
  • [Intro: JT]
    We on our third song, we on our third song, heyyeyy

    [Verse 1: JT]
    You understand it, I'm official with mine; I'm double-clutchin
    On the fo'-wheel, pushin quarters like niggas doin dope deals
    Fo' cut 50 like a verse and a half
    I cut the brick and now we countin the math, we 'bout that birdplay
    My crew's committed, you dudes gon' get it
    Have a seat you through when I'm finished, my troopers is fitted
    Got 'em posted out in Brooklyn, Hollis Queens to the Bridge
    We in the studio the Figgaro done did it again
    We got factors out in the ditch where they smackin a bitch
    I got homies out in the Bronx where they bustin at cops
    It ain't no game with the underground, came from the underground
    Pushin a hundred thousand, we out the trunk, never browsin
    JT, another boss from the Bay
    And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre, what'chu say nigga?
    JT, another boss from the Bay
    And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre, motherfucker

    [Verse 2: Nina B]
    Hey yo it seem to me like e'rybody got they own truth
    Believe me I'm in them sheets like phonebooths
    I play the game I was born to score
    But I'm a lil' too cute for them corner stores
    A little too, known, to stand on the block
    And a lil' too eager to sit in the spot
    Mami, I'm from the Eastside, yup yes that side
    Heads fly if I open ya chest that wide
    Gimme a bad vibe end up on ya backside
    Or you can get your back and side splatted in back of ya ride
    And I can make it happen, if I don't make it rappin
    This lump of Satan I'm packin thrash 'em with a major passion
    I slash ya face and fracture you flashin in the latest fashion
    And have you dashin from Manhattan all the way to Aspen
    Your shit is whack, heard your tape and had to take an aspirin
    Step ya game up

    [Verse 3: Get Low Playaz]
    Listen, before I get up in the mornin I ask the Lord for strength
    Tryin to get my niggas out the hood, you know how the forces get
    It's like the devil got a hold of my neck
    And I'm gettin this change runnin 'round reppin my set
    Momma used to look at me funny; she could tell her baby boy changed
    Must be out there gettin some money
    But it's a price for everything, you know how the game go
    For them birds niggas'll cock back the calico
    Now you introduced to the beef, what'chu gon' do now?
    Bitch up, skid in your crib, or pull them tools out?
    A lot of niggas is real, a lot of niggas is fake
    A lot of niggas shake your hand and shake hands with Jake

    [Verse 4: Get Low Playaz]
    Fuck what'chu heard, I startled your brain
    I hit the spot like a {?} in ballers and jeans
    On some eighty-eight shit, more "Raw" than Kane
    It's not my fault she looked at me - you better talk to your dame
    That's just, part of the game and you got served
    Who got nerve cause Lethal hard like 2Pac words
    And, why y'all Chucks always actin like tough guys
    You must be trippin or you slippin on mudslides
    And in the hood you see it's different from one time
    What's your bloodline, play the strip to the sunshine
    And I don't even know why I'm wastin my breath
    I oughta be like Makaveli and be fakin my death
    I keep that good shit it's tastin so fresh
    And all y'all sloppy Joe niggas yo y'all makin a mess
    We on the way to yo' nap, so put your tapes in the deck
    And spit in a hundred bars straight without breakin a sweat

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