Like Me - The Game

7:46, wake up, hand on my dick

Lakers lost by 30 last night, I’m talking shit

Roll up a Backwood, killer in my spliff

Reading GQ magazine while I take a shit

Walk back to my room, wake up this bitch

Kickin' her out, dick in her mouth, that Compton shit, boy

I’m on that monster shit, boy

Chopper out the trunk, on some Compton shit, boy

I remember flipping dimes and shit

Putting five to them planes, that La Bamba shit

Dr. Dre ain’t got time for this, he wearing Beats

I got my ear to the ground, lil' nigga, I’m in these streets like

Streetlights and lead pipes, up in the projects

We gon' make it out but this shit is a slow process

Lean right, keep heat tight, don’t ever digest

Hollow tips where your mind rest, you forgot

They don’t make niggas like me

Nah, they don’t make niggas like me

They don’t make niggas like me

They don’t make niggas like me

Wassup

I’m that nigga that sold packs by the bungalows

Animal out here, my niggas in the jungles know

I’m cold like one below in Green Bay

Had the water on the block, to the fiends I was a stingray

I had a Z before I seen Jay

I had the West, I used to sling yay

But sometimes when tables turn like a DJ

Had them rocks and them bands like Green Day

I used to listen to, Project Pat tote straps and sell crack

Used to smoke that Bobby Brown, fuck rats and sit back

On my forte, was more yay, my enemies got gift-wrapped

The two nicks in two days, got new fits and new Js

Thankful for my two Ks, my vision clear as Blu-ray

Kill your ass today, knock the glue off your toupée

My guns like «hi», leave that shy shit to Lupe

Then chop the top off the coupe, doomsday

They don’t make niggas like me

Nah, they don’t make niggas like me

They don’t make niggas like me

They don’t make niggas like me

Cook crack nigga