Outro (Red Bandana) lyrics

[Intro]
Black Wall Street, The Game, Beach Boy
Charli Baltimore (he wears a red bandana)
Rockstar, we are the Black Gang
Free Shyne, motherf*ckers! (he wears a red bandana)

[Chorus]
On the front of murder talk (he wears a)
On the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
The whole world know (he wears a)
Every n*gga in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the N-Y-P-D (he wears a)
Why you snitch on me and tell 'em that (he wears a red bandana)
All the Pirus know (he wears a)
Even my crip n*ggas know (he wears a red bandana)

[Verse 1]
Cheah, cheah, dear God let me cleanse my soul
Throw away all the rims and the gold
Oh no I can't do that, do I love God?
True dat, but I got a gun so move back
I'm loco like 5 eses in the side of Chevelle ridin' on low pros
I'm a renegade, ride with the .44
Been a gangbanger all my life, f*ck the popo
I ain't never been a c*cky kid, know they could kill me if they shot Pac and Big
But I let my bandana hang, in the city of angels we gangbang
I move that chronic and yayo, way before I met 50, Banks, Buck and Yayo
Ask Eminem even Dr.Dre know I put one in last ten in the Range Rov
Used to push that rock like Jay Hov, you better lay low when the A-K blow
Or get wings and a halo, run to the hood and tell 'em I'm the n*gga they gotta pray for
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I said run to the hood and tell 'em I'm the n*gga they gotta pray for
Lay low and stay low
[Chorus]
On the front of murder talk (he wears a)
On the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
The whole world know (he wears a)
Every n*gga in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the N-Y-P-D (he wears a)
Why you snitch on me and tell 'em that (he wears a red bandana)
All the Pirus know (he wears a)
Even my crip n*ggas know (he wears a red bandana)

[Verse 2]
Cheah, cheah, I'm a gangbanger don't get it f*cked up
You ain't never bang, you ain't never laced chucks up
So how the f*ck you gonna criticize me
I ain't the reason n*ggas is bangin' the N-Y-C
Makin' bullsh*t threats on the M-I-C
I don't wake up in cold sweats when I sleep
I live comfortably With a red rag tied around the 45 in case n*ggas come for me
Mad cause I started my own company, I don't know what the f*ck n*ggas want from me, except something for free
Before The Doc*mentary dropped, you b*tch n*ggas wasn't bumpin' me
And to some degree, I gotta keep that 4-5th under me
I don't run from beef It's either c*ck back, squeeze or underneath 'Cause I'm from the streets of (Compton)
And my grandmother died before I was multi
Wasn't raised right cause my parents was both high
High off cocaine, my introduction to the dope game came in 85 watchin' Soul Train
Mama told me I was the future, and one day I'd be fly like Soul Plane
Just don't bang, but back then I'd do anything for a jheri curl and a gold chain
n*ggas always got something to say
Like they ain't never bumped N.W.A
Punk n*ggas talk sh*t, but when they need hits
They swallow they f*ckin' pride and come runnin' to Dre
n*ggas come to L.A. when they need to talk
'Cause Kanye told everybody Jesus Walks
Bush killed more n*ggas in the towers then gangbangin' ever did
That's why they need New York
[Chorus]
On the front of murder talk (he wears a)
On the cover of the source you see (he wears a red bandana)
The whole world know (he wears a)
Every n*gga in the hood know (he wears a red bandana)
50 told the N-Y-P-D (he wears a)
Why you snitch on me and tell 'em that (he wears a red bandana)
All the Pirus know (he wears a)
Even my crip n*ggas know (he wears a red bandana)

[Outro]
Yeah motherf*ckers, Chuck Taylor
Oh you thought I forgot about that alias huh?
I'm going back to my roots
G-Unit is dead, as a staff, a record label, and a motherf*ckin group
Your clothes can't sell, your shoes are straight garbage
Your movies suck! Chicken Little killed you n*gga Hahaha
How you like it n*gga, I took your style
I ain't doin no third verse, I'm just talk to you n*gga
Like you do when you get mad at me 'cause you can't f*ck with me lyrically motherf*cker
You gonna do one of those sing song little clucky poppy hooks
You like the rap Lindsay Lohan you f*ckin' faggot
Write 8 bars about me n*gga, I do this sh*t all day 50!
Curtis Jackson, Boo-Boo
Marcus... Snitch
Black Wall Street C.E.O. motherf*cker!
Hurricanes in stores December 26th
Stop Snitchin' Stop Lyin the DVDs in stores December 6th
It's a tell-all n*gga
Wait 'til my movie come out, I'm glad it ain't based on my life
With that knock off 8 Mile sh*t
You can never be Eminem motherf*cker
You ain't lyrically inclined enough to be Jay-Z, Nas, B.I.G. or Pac
And in the modern day... today, tomorrow, next week
You can't f*ck with The Game n*gga!
OUT
[Interlude]
Yo what's poppin' it's The Game
I want you to go out and buy my new DVD
Stop Snitchin', Stop Lyin'. It's a tell-all
Stopsnitchinstoplyin.com
Theblairesnitchproject.com
Anywhere of sight.com