The Breakdown (200 Bars & Runnin’)

[Intro]

What the fuck is all this noise?

He from Cali, he can't rap

He ain't better than this nigga

That's my favorite artist

Fuck y'all

[Verse]

Hear the breakdown, no detox, I'm comfortable dog

Like the solo Reeboks right up under me dog

And it feel like I done it before

Sit in the throne pollutin the airwaves like a Hummer exhaust

Don't let Makaveli fool you homie, thugging it costs

Pour out a little liquor for the loved ones that we lost

You ain't gotta wait for the album I don't fuck with The Source

But I turn up my Eazy-E and let it bump in the Porsche

I mean turn up my B.I.G. and let it bump in the Porsche

Tell 'em to roll red carpet when he come in New York

Hip-hop police on me think they runnin New York

Till I lace my Air One show 'em how to run in New York

They tryna take me downtown put me under the court

Cause Joe Buddens told 'em I carry a gun in New York

And homey that's strictly fact, he got ripped on wax

So he snitched just to get me back

No matter what you say dog, your shit be whack

You better watch what you say, it might get you clapped

Here's a little advice homie, switch your raps

Cause that shit on your last album ain't get you plaques

What nigga you need a gun? I'll get you that

P-89 nigga let Dre stitch you back

Web and Nitty street niggas I admit to that

But I don't even want your chain, I'll let the Crips do that

12 bars for that bitch, he won't live through that

Even a nigga with a ten year bid knew that

Put a gun in his mouth yeah, yeah do that

He a pussy (sniff, sniff) his own kid knew that

I'm Ready To Die, B.I.G. knew that

He ain't eatin, look at his white tee you could see his ribs through that

You cocksucker, let your wiz do that

Or I'll let her do me ooh wee now back to rap

2 Lincoln Continentals sittin back to back

Leavin' Jersey City naw nigga, Hackensack

Where's that? Somewhere where the crackers at

Real far from where the roaches and rats is at

Come to Compton I'll show you where the ratchets at

Down the street from the Staples Center where they Hack-a-Shaq

Give the advance money back, I ain't have to rap

Break Harry-O out tell him crack is back

That's nine five a bird take half of that

Import it, export it in cracker jacks

When you get to the projects, ask for Black

You know what you started with? Give him half of that

He gon' give you 50 G's in a plastic sack

And I'mma give you 3,500 cash for that

Gotta keep your mouth closed or I'mma blast the mac

They won't believe you, whole world know that bastard rap

Once you outta the throne, you can't have it back

Retirement home and ain't nuttin' after that

Except you layin' in a casket black, suit on

You can't go to heaven with Timberland boots on

No subliminals, I ain't talkin to you Shawn

I'm talkin' to that heartless mouse with no jewels on

Who the fuck put you on

Faggot ass nigga let men toss his salad like croutons

I fuck with Fab, get my DJ Clue on, sit inside Hot 97 with no tools on

And it don't matter if it's Sway or Kay Slay

Angie Martinez I'll take 'em back to KDAY

They act like they forgot about Dre Day

I don't rap for Free that's why they fired AJ

It's me leaking through your stereo

Envy me as an MC, prepare for your burial

I kill niggas without lettin' the Desert blow

Razor tongue and I'm far from Haitian son

All black like the Range Rover wheels

Niggas whisper around The Game like The Game won't kill

Let me show you the scars, take you back to the car

Rewind time, March 3, 1994

I was only in my teens, deuce-deuce in my Levi's

When Nas hit the scene I was still rockin' knee-highs

Runnin' with my brother Fase, he was 17

Two guns in the upper waist, so we hit the block

Saw niggas from a rival gang bumpin Dre

Ran up on the '64 and that's all she wrote

We runnin through the alley like Bishop chasin' Radames

First murder and I did that without a mask

Fast-forward, see Game gettin out a Jag

Two piece suit on, he still got his rag

Gangbangin' forever, he still got his swag

Let me catch you in Los Angeles without a pass

Everybody in New York know that you a fag

Come out the closet, show the world how to use a pad

Speakin' death on my red bandana

Naw, he couldn't a said that, so I raised my antennas

Look at my Nextel, got a call from Santana

That nigga a pussy, we just saw him in Atlanta

So I hopped on the first thing smokin' to Atlanta

Pulled up at 112 ran up on that black Phantom

Security hopped out, no Joe in here

Just Outkast gettin' ready for a show in here

So I uncocked the fofo

Hopped in the cherry low-low

Chrome grill with the G-Unit logo

We watched Hov go, now the world waitin' on my solo

I'm the man, Stat Quo know

I ain't gotta explain, even Bo know

Half of these rap niggas is faker than rolls gold

Get hit in the face with the back of the fofo

And pissed on tryna play The Game with a broke nose

My bitch harder than you, yeah Vida loco

I ain't sold one record got rap in a chokehold

I'm Dre certified like the leader of the band

Run up, you sure to die, I'll leave you where you stand

Smurfette runnin' 'round New York like he the man

But he peed in his pants when he saw us at Summer Jam

Lucky I wasn't there, I had to bury my man

Or I would've terrorized New York like the Son Of Sam

What you mean terrorize New York?

I mean expose these pussy ass niggas like I'm Too $hort

Somebody tell Domination I'll leave him in parts

Leg in Jersey, arm in Brooklyn, head buried in Central Park

He can't walk through New York no more like John Stark

Got a call 'cause I'ma break his ankles like Hot Sauce

Ask niggas from your hood I'm thorough in five boroughs

Sit on any stoop, Pelli Tims in the thermal

Wait till Alpo come home

Like Azie from Harlem, Dre gon' pay me regardless

Cause he know Jay-Z departed

And these other rap labels know don't feed they artists

Talkin' blueprint shit you got three garages

Gettin money off Roc like lil [?] and Carter

Showin' off your lil chain like these is flawless

Send him fifty cent a day, I can see he starvin'

I got R&B bitches givin' me ménages

Deep massages, I could hear Eazy talkin'

Tellin' me to have a seat in Tomica's office

Buy Ruthless and get Lil' E involved in

Promote without that magazine in Boston

Take a couple mill, make Beans a offer

Give him money we don't see that often

But it was all a dream, like I seen Memph Bleek in Marcy

I ain't say you won't see Bleek in Marcy

I said my man told me he don't see Bleek in Marcy

I'm from Compton where niggas used to bleed for Barkleys

Drive lo-lo's and we ain't need keys to start 'em

Just a little information for your summer vacation

Bring your chain 'cause every nigga in L.A. waitin'

Mad cause Detroit beat the shit out the Lakers

And they'll kill you 'cause they can't find Gary Payton

Meanwhile the throne vacant and Da Band ain't makin' it

Shyne got a new deal, Def Jam gotta pay us

Playboy Jones got knocked out shortly after they weighed him in

Niggas got beef with G-Unit but ain't sayin' shit

Quiet as a church on Tuesdays

Niggas say they hate my music, but my alert's on they 2-ways

Nigga I'm a hazard, a Michael Jackson in khakis

Touch kids but I do that with a semi-automatic

With or without traffic I pull my shit out and blast it

I'm blind to the masses like Stevie Wonder without glasses

I'm a savage spit murder like a 38 Magnum

16 bars'll bag 'em, let the hook toe tag 'em

Murder any MC throw 'em in that white wagon

Let him die and come back look at 'em, he white flaggin'

For spreadin' rumors like, "When I see Game I might jack him"

I'm tellin' the world, he reach for my chain, I might clap him

'Cause niggas shot me in two-thousand and one

Took one in the heart 'cause I was too proud to run

The clip was empty when the police found my gun

So I don't bring that gangbangin' shit around my son

Nigga 50 took 9 he know how it feel

And I found out Buck got shot up in Cashville

And Sha Money told me Lloyd Banks got hit

And Yayo just came home (G-G-G-Unit)

Backstage at a D-12 concert

A fan asked me how it feel to be walkin' in Snoop's Converse

Niggas show me love when they see me in the streets

But they frown when I don't wanna hear none of they beats

Nigga, this shit crazy

Em said some shit when was 16, now they tryna ruin Slim Shady

I forgive him, I got problems of my own

How you think the streets gon' act now that Suge home

These niggas is birds, I can see the feathers on 'em

If Doc give me the word, I put this Berretta on 'em

When the beef is on, my piece is on 'em

White sheets is on 'em, Doc breathin on 'em

And I got a extra clip in my Reeboks 'cause I'm in and out my socks every time I see cops

Game got the streets locked, call 911, get the whole fuckin' LAPD shot

Niggas snitchin' to the street cops, get your nephews and your niece shot

When my heat cocked, then the beef stop

Nigga with a attitude like I heard Dr. Dre doin' Detox

Niggas fightin' for the throne, that ain't shit

Tryna measure the fallen legends but the shoe won't fit

Niggas might think I'm ridin' dick

Cause I'm at the cemetery puttin' creases in my G-Unit's

Tryna talk Jesus Christ into lettin' me dig 'em up

So they could stand side by side again and live it up

This might be the last time you hear me biggin 'em up

With suicidal thoughts bangin' Me And My Bitch in the truck

My conscience tellin' me if I put the clip in the buck

It might be loud enough to wake Big and 'em up

What if that was P. Diddy sittin' in the truck

And 2Pac was in jail the day he recorded Hit 'em Up?

I wouldn't be outside 40/40 bumpin' Jigga What

Wouldn't be signed to Dr. Dre, I wonder is it luck

That got me on MTV with Banks, Fifth, and Buck

I ain't tryna be L.A.'s king, he carry a pimp cup

[Outro]

Snoop Dogg got the crown, nigga

The fuck y'all mad at me for?

I ain't sold one fuckin' record

I'm just tryna use this 200 bars to feed my family, nigga

I ain't no threat

I can't rap, I'm from Compton remember?

You gotta be out yo motherfuckin' mind

Ask Kay Slay, ask Clue, ask Whoo Kid, ask Funk Flex

I'll murder anyone of you motherfuckers

G-G-G-Unit

Awwwww