Lookin At You Clean by The Game Lyrics
Walkin' down the street in my All Stars
In my khaki suit, doin' what I do
Walkin' down the street, smokin' ***
In my black locs, lookin' at you
Guess who's back on the West Coast tracks?
It's the *** messiah of gangsta rap
Still dip in the six fo', still puffin' on the same ***
Haters mad 'cause I still got it
I never fall off, even without the Doc
You *** sellin' your soul tryin' to stay on top
***, check your Kotex
You *** ain't movin' *** like the hand on a fake *** Rolex
I'm five million sold, the cover of my last album
The only time you see me sittin' on gold
I'm the most anticipated, most celebrated
Most loved and the *** most hated
Keep rollin' like gold Daytons
*** got the game *** up like Hennessey with a Coke chaser
You gotta deal with me, I'm the West Coast savior
*** think of me every time they six fo' scraper
What do you call a *** who's overbearin'
Belligerent, foul, defiant and very disrespectful?
You call that *** the Doctor's Advocate
He's a reflection of Dr. Dre in his hay day in the worst way
The five star surgeon general
Took Jayceon to the Aftermath Research Department
And gave him a blood test
It came back 'G A M E Positive'
The n*** infected with the game virus
His oratorical skills are so impeccable
That *** in the streets call him Cyrus
The young don who is down with violence
'Cause in his heart, he's a tyrant
It's not a game, it's just called The Game
There'll be no referees, no halftime reports
When the game is over, The Game is over
You can't put a quarter in the machine
And get three mo' min', that's the end
I'll walkin' down the street in my All Stars
In my khaki suit, doin' what I do
Walkin' down the street, smokin' ***
In my black locs, lookin' at you
I done been to Hell and back
Left for dead, you know who to thank for that
Finished my second LP without a Dr. Dre track
You can take my soul but can't take my plaques
I'm the *** snare when it touch the beat
I'm the 808 drum that got you movin' your feet
I'm the heir to the throne after the D R E
Product of my environment
You old *** get ready for your early retirement
Before I let hip hop burn down
I run in the building like a fireman
Who can out spit me when I'm high off ***?
Throwin' back Patron shots in some creased up Dickies
I'm D.O.C. certified, Ice Cube 'Lynch'd' me
Snoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked me
You still with me? Me and my mic
Can't be separated like Interscope and hahahaha
Oh ***, this some good ***
That California ***
This is the aftermath for the Aftermath
West Coast
In my khaki suit, doin' what I do
Walkin' down the street, smokin' ***
In my black locs, lookin' at you
Guess who's back on the West Coast tracks?
It's the *** messiah of gangsta rap
Still dip in the six fo', still puffin' on the same ***
Haters mad 'cause I still got it
I never fall off, even without the Doc
You *** sellin' your soul tryin' to stay on top
***, check your Kotex
You *** ain't movin' *** like the hand on a fake *** Rolex
I'm five million sold, the cover of my last album
The only time you see me sittin' on gold
I'm the most anticipated, most celebrated
Most loved and the *** most hated
Keep rollin' like gold Daytons
*** got the game *** up like Hennessey with a Coke chaser
You gotta deal with me, I'm the West Coast savior
*** think of me every time they six fo' scraper
What do you call a *** who's overbearin'
Belligerent, foul, defiant and very disrespectful?
You call that *** the Doctor's Advocate
He's a reflection of Dr. Dre in his hay day in the worst way
The five star surgeon general
Took Jayceon to the Aftermath Research Department
And gave him a blood test
It came back 'G A M E Positive'
The n*** infected with the game virus
His oratorical skills are so impeccable
That *** in the streets call him Cyrus
The young don who is down with violence
'Cause in his heart, he's a tyrant
It's not a game, it's just called The Game
There'll be no referees, no halftime reports
When the game is over, The Game is over
You can't put a quarter in the machine
And get three mo' min', that's the end
I'll walkin' down the street in my All Stars
In my khaki suit, doin' what I do
Walkin' down the street, smokin' ***
In my black locs, lookin' at you
I done been to Hell and back
Left for dead, you know who to thank for that
Finished my second LP without a Dr. Dre track
You can take my soul but can't take my plaques
I'm the *** snare when it touch the beat
I'm the 808 drum that got you movin' your feet
I'm the heir to the throne after the D R E
Product of my environment
You old *** get ready for your early retirement
Before I let hip hop burn down
I run in the building like a fireman
Who can out spit me when I'm high off ***?
Throwin' back Patron shots in some creased up Dickies
I'm D.O.C. certified, Ice Cube 'Lynch'd' me
Snoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked me
You still with me? Me and my mic
Can't be separated like Interscope and hahahaha
Oh ***, this some good ***
That California ***
This is the aftermath for the Aftermath
West Coast