Rolling Stone

[Verse 1: The Game] Nigga pull up, hop out the Cutlass, tell a nigga fuck this I ain’t toleratin' no fuck shit Wifey at the halfway house, with a bitch with her ass hanging halfway out I ain't bout no games nigga, that's my name Gold grill with a blunt hanging halfway out Nigga can’t tell me shit Unless he got hits and then he can tell me how them hash weigh out Crib laid out like a pimp here, your bitch there on a bed laid out Nigga talkin' that fuck shit, we just spray out Boy, get yo whole motherfuckin' hood K’d out I was born in the C-P, Tommy on my lap If it’s cheese in that hoe, you could find me in the trap But when it’s snap, give a fuck about a rap Yup, Me and Buck back, 7-eleven on the crack See a car I like, get the fuck up outta there Grand Theft Auto on a bitch ass nigga Get the tow yard, pull a truck up outta that Then pop bottles, let me hit that nigga, roll blunts the size of this MAC I’m in love with the kush, I ain’t givin' that back, trill nigga Smoke 'til my lungs collapse, pass out with a fifth of that Cognac Real nigga gon' recognize this G shit Don’t come at me with no peace shit That peace shit, that was ‘89, I get yo ass hit with 89’s Motherfucker 'fore the cops get there, nigga, J’s comin' off Drive off with the K’s runnin' off Fly home, tuck my sons into bed, kiss my daughter on the head And leave a note by her motherfuckin' bed [Chorus] Papa was a rolling stone Wherever he laid his hat was his home And when he died all he left us was alone Papa was a rolling stone, my son Wherever he laid his hat was his home And when he died all he left us was alone [Verse 2: Young Buck] Ain’t shit changed with me nigga Been around the world with this same AK Same clip with more bodies on it Then hook yo hood with this beef shit Lookin' around, don't nobody want it Niggas know what’s up with Buck Beat a couple murder cases comin' up, shoot first Molly poppin', that’s young niggas All they really wanna do now is do dirt Movin' on and I’m gone, papa got a brand new home And I’m not lookin' back, I’m just cookin' crack Until I get back where I belong My bitch leave brains all on my seat But these niggas blood all on my hands Been ridin' up and down these streets Fucking as many niggas I can, shotgun shell still in my leg Got a few racks still on my head Gotta stay strapped now, they handicapped now Fuck niggas who’s stealin' my bread Had to buy a graveyard for just trappers Ain’t got a funeral home for you rappers Know I can't play the role with you actors When we gone they'll be nothin' to come after Now send it, nigga, I’m going Kendrick, nigga You can start the shit but I'ma end it, nigga If you gettin' money, better spend it, nigga This real life, no pretendin', nigga Back at it again, fresh out the pen Remember back then? They had to let me in And ya'll niggas talkin' 'bout cashin' out I need a trash bag to put the cash in [Chorus] Papa was a rolling stone Wherever he laid his hat was his home And when he died all he left us was alone Papa was a rolling stone, my son Wherever he laid his hat was his home And when he died all he left us was alone [Verse 3: Papoose] Papoose, Papoose They told me papa was a rollin' stone Like Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood, Charlie-hold it, holmes You ain't a poet 'cause you wrote a poem I am lyrically, mentally, spiritually higher on the totem pole I get the cheese, cheddar, mozzarella, American, monterey jack, swiss, feta, muenster, provolone I break a nigga down limb by limb Blood, sweat, tears, molecule, flesh tissue, and chromosomes Gemstar razor pull your dome Leave you hole in your face, shot, just like Macaulay Culkin, Home Alone I tote the chrome, let it spark, blast with a dark mask Trailer park trash, blow it out your motorhome I order chrome, catch you pitchin' on my block I'ma knock it out the park Babe Ruth, goin', goin', gone I broke his balls, squeeze three, burn 'em like V.D You P.C., no E.T. ain't phonin' home Gun tucked, what, what? Fuck, fuck all of y'all Fucked up, duck Yo, Buck, welcome home Paragraphs of murder, had to grab the burner I'm so nice, could teach a rappin' class for learners My WAV files don't convert, you [?] jazz converter You need bigger hard drive, Pap'll crash your server I was raised with the killers in a class of burglers I been the truth in the booth, go and ask a [?] This is annihilation You niggas violatin' gon' die hatin', gettin' shots like immunization I'm standin' by, fresh as [?] nation And if the devil was a liar, then you gon' die, Satan You ever disrespect my [?] soldiers, you gon' see a bunch of wolves with Tims, open a soda Blood on my hands for blood money, low You got blood on your hands 'cause you a cut throat [Chorus] Papa was a rolling stone Wherever he laid his hat was his home And when he died all he left us was alone Papa was a rolling stone, my son Wherever he laid his hat was his home And when he died all he left us was alone