.44 Mag

(Intro)

Somebody better tell these niggas N.W.A is back..

Yo, Whoo Kid let 'em know!

Eazy has just left the building..

(Verse)

What happened to that boy?

He ran with the wrong gang

Fucked up in the hood, brought fiends the wrong cane

N.W.A nigga..yeah Compton still crooked

Make niggas fly off them ropes like Jimmy Fly Snuka

Your Neighborhood pusher..and I got them clips

Streets is talking, ''Game got shot by crips!''

It's okay, the kid catch bullets like Tim Brown

And your right back in the field with the rock like Jim Brown

The young gun..Not Memphis Bleek

The protege of Doc Dre with them bricks for cheap

I hustle in the C.P.T. where they play for keeps

No money in the dice game nigga, we play for pinks

And the kid got a 6-8 game like T-Mack

With N.W.A on his neck like Eazy-E back

And the desert eagle bang like a D-R-E track

So try to ball and get left with Pat Ewing kneecaps

I'm gangsta like tan khakis and air max

Chuck Taylors and Evisu jeans

The kid gotta raw flow..Niggas think he from Queens

I love rap..but Dre I gotta please the fiends!

Plus my daughter need some things, So I got Roc in Philly like Freeway, Chris, Neef and Beans

I got birds in Boston, but I ain't on no dream team

I'm on the block in a McLaren that's chronic leaf green

And I run with the A-Team, do my doc dre thing

I retire you in that 6th like Docter J's team

And I'm still gangbanging..

Tan khaki suit, red rag in my back pocket, N.W.A chain hanging

Leave your brains hanging for less than a dollar

So if you ain't got a vest better holla

We got those impalas, new handguns and yay for sale

Give you a dope track so you ain't gotta pay Pharrell

And I ain't never spent a day in jail

But I move weight like whales

On Rosecrans with a 8th on the scale

So you ain't gotta ask Dre..if I bang in Compton

Just know, when I'm cuffed I'm going straight to the gang module

In county blue C-B-P on my neck

And walk the main line with AT&T on my chest

The kid hit the streets, he in a vest

Wit a hoodrat from Compton wit a tattoo of Eazy-E on her breast

She gon' ride, it don't matter homies or cold D's

Hands up, that revolver spin like gold D's

And you ain't gotta know The Game to know he from Compton

And our motto is fuck the police, holla!

(Outro)

Yeah

Aftermath nigga, '03 and after that

We running this rap shit

Be concerned

It's The Game

Aka Chuck Taylor

I'm coming nigga, a hundnid miles and running

You know I got to holla at my nigga D-Mack

The black George Clooney

It's our turn nigga

Whoo Kid

I told you they weren't ready dawg

'03, Aftermath, who fuckin' with us?