Run Up

[Intro: The Game]

West Coast, it's all about survival nigga

West Coast, California's own

Black Wall Street, D.P.G.C

You niggas know what it is

Compton and Long Beach back together again

[Verse 1: Ice Cube]

Security pat-downs

I'm a star, motherfucker, I been put the gat down

I been put' the MAC down

But check the people that I'm with

'Cause they'll lay you flat down

And they'll do it right now

Yeah, you scared of the phone numbers that a nigga might dial

Club-hop, car shows, picnics

Big cars, big jewels, big dicks

Rush doors, or gotta hop the fence

Clothing stores, gotta blow my rent

Gotta show my ass, then go repent

Gotta call in sick, and tell 'em where I went

(buck 'em, buck 'em, buck 'em)

Don't want no problems, y'all

Fuck around, I'll pull out the problem solved

And watch egos dissolve

Nine times out of ten, you hoes involved

[Chorus]

You gotta problem nigga run up

They get [?] go be [?]

[?] give a fuck, I'ma do my thang

Representing the city from which I came

[Verse 2: The Game]

It's too much gangsta shit goin' on in the fuckin' world

For niggas to be actin' like girls

I'm the Gangbang General, never rhyme a subliminal

12-gauge shotty to your body, a fuckin' criminal

A animal, West Coast beat cannibal

Who got the antidote? I'm sick on this gangsta shit

Not Blood or Crip, I'm a Anybody Killa

For realer, half Blood half motherfuckin' gorilla

Suicidal, my flow is a automatic rifle

My rag is a flag, I should hang it from the fuckin' Eiffel Tower

MC's I devour, a lyrical time bomb

I explode to the next episode

Cutlass ridin', butler drivin'

Head low 'cause it's all about motherfuckin' survivin'

In the city I claim, Westside we bang

The Game, and the D.P.G.C. gang

[Verse 3: YG]

Goin' goin' back back to the bank

Rest in peace to my safe

I'ma fly nigga nigga I take your ho

I'll have to leave her if she did me like Coco

The devil talkin' to me, but I dont hear him

Act like I'm deaf like So-So

Fuck you, fuck him, fuck them

Fuck my ex and her cohorts

Hundred bottles in the club, for no reason

Niggas start trippin', boom bow dope fiend

Fendi on my shoes, Fendi on my belt

I'm in the Fendi store, I dont need help

All gold everything like Trinidad

I went to high school, with you bitch you been a rat

I don't got money problems, I got trust issues

Two things I gotta stayin' with, two pistols