Speakers on Blast

[Verse 1: The Game] It's not usual, the game be, all up on some South shit Straight West Coasting, you can tell by my outfit Red 'nati fitted, "Blood in, Blood out" shit Empty jelly jars, nigga, bird in the couch shit The mad rapper, Oscar the Grouch shit Except when I'm hopping out of cans, I'm pulling out shit Dippin' a 4 though, double X 3-D Polo If hip-hop was the league, I'd be the motherfuckin logo Your last shit was so-so, you should sign to Jermaine I've been hard since I was solo Niggas, they feel my pain, I make it rain without the strippers Go against the grain, and push your shit back like some clippers I bang and then I hang out at the Staples like Blake Griffin You can tell I'm getting money the way that glass house is sitting I mash out the strip then like Nash when I'm dippin Feeling like God's Son, the way that It Was Written [Chorus: The Game] Them boys want they music on blast Don't turn it down, turn it up every time them cops pass Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask Cause I got another ounce up in the stash Them boys want they music on blast Don't turn it down, turn it up every time them cops pass Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask Cause I take 2 hits, and then I pass [Verse 2: The Game] I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a motherfucker chill in the car Feelin' like Missy, why you all up in my grill They must know that I got bird stashed all up in my grill Camouflage by the Armor All while it's sparkling off my wheels And I fuck hoes that prey on Dwight Howard and Shaquille Not them throwback rats they be on showin' college hill For real, I think my first album sold 5 mil' And you say to yourself "He's broke" Well how the hell am I ballin', like Spalding I did a couple of movies, now agents calling and calling Can't get to the phone right now cause balls is all in this bitch mouth When did we start taking these tricks out? Now she gon' run her big mouth and tell her girlfriend You had her all up in the wind Blowing yo cheese on Louboutins, and now that bitch is in the wind And after the next draft, she gon' start that cycle again How you claimin' that bitch when she with him? Come again cause [Chorus: The Game] Them boys want they music on blast Don't turn it down, turn it up every time them cops pass Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask Cause I got another ounce up in the stash Them boys want they music on blast Don't turn it down, turn it up every time them cops pass Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask Cause I take 2 hits, and then I pass [Verse 3: Big Boi] Daddy Fat Sax If my balls are on your chin, then can you tell me where my dick's at? Gag order ghetto, head hunter, head buster through the chit-chat I skip to the lou, my darling bring the thunder, I'm the lightning that strikes twice Motherfucker, call me massa Cause I runs the plantation and I'm whooping niggas asses if they disrespect the presentation Below the Mason-Dixon, we facin' the basis, never missin' pimpin' You can embrace it or come face to face with total devastation My mojo is never fadin', I'm in my Optimus Prime transform Switch it up, heat it up, speed it up, that means I'm gone Light years, ahead of your Buzz, Toy Story's and club songs Boy, gone, the A-T-L-iens are phoning home But I feel like a librarian, cause style's are being' loaned out like books A castle full of crooks, rape and pillage They'll do anything for money, I bet misleading the village [Chorus: The Game & E-40] Them boys want they music on blast Don't turn it down, turn it up every time them cops pass Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask Cause I got another ounce up in the stash Them boys want they music on blast Don't turn it down, turn it up every time them cops pass Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask Cause I take 2 hits, and then I pass (E-40, uhh) [Verse 4: E-40] Not from New England, but I pack a patriot Not from Atlanta, but I got the cater Not from Chicago, but I'm a bear I'm a bay area nigga, 49er, Raider I'm about my bread man, I ain't no sucker Now these bitch ass niggas soft as table butter I'm about my riches, magazines, street hustler You can ask your uncles, daddies, mothers, and your older brothers But I used to flea flick that yola white Sellin' that shit below the retail price I'm a rare breed like the bike club, get it right Desperado like Toriono, shout out to Dynamite I got my red cup, and some green What kind of green you smoking pimp? Blue dream My nigga let my hit that there hemp, do your thing How many woofers in your trunk? 4 15s (Biatch!) [Chorus: The Game] Them boys want they music on blast Don't turn it down, turn it up every time them cops pass Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask Cause I got another ounce up in the stash Them boys want they music on blast Don't turn it down, turn it up every time them cops pass Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask Cause I take 2 hits, and then I pass