The Breakdown (200 Bars & Runnin’) lyrics

[Intro]
What the f*ck is all this noise?
He from Cali, he can't rap
He ain't better than this n*gga
That's my favorite artist
f*ck 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 f*ck 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 sh*t be whack
You better watch what you say, it might get you clapped
Here's a little advice homie, switch your raps
Cause that sh*t on your last album ain't get you plaques
What n*gga you need a gun? I'll get you that
P-89 n*gga let Dre stitch you back
Web and Nitty street n*ggas I admit to that
But I don't even want your chain, I'll let the Crips do that
12 bars for that b*tch, he won't live through that
Even a n*gga with a ten year bid knew that
Put a gun in his mouth yeah, yeah do that
He a pus*y (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 c*cksucker, 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 n*gga, 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 bast*rd 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 f*ck put you on
Faggot ass n*gga let men toss his salad like croutons
I f*ck 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 n*ggas without lettin' the Desert blow
Razor tongue and I'm far from Haitian son
All black like the Range Rover wheels
n*ggas 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 n*ggas 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 n*gga a pus*y, 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 unc*cked 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 n*ggas is faker than rolls gold
Get hit in the face with the back of the fofo
And p*ssed on tryna play The Game with a broke nose
My b*tch 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 pus*y ass n*ggas 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 n*ggas 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 sh*t 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 b*tches 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 n*ggas 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 n*gga in L.A. waitin'
Mad cause Detroit beat the sh*t 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
n*ggas got beef with G-Unit but ain't sayin' sh*t
Quiet as a church on Tuesdays
n*ggas say they hate my music, but my alert's on they 2-ways
n*gga 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 sh*t 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 n*ggas 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' sh*t around my son
n*gga 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
n*ggas show me love when they see me in the streets
But they frown when I don't wanna hear none of they beats
n*gga, this sh*t crazy
Em said some sh*t 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 n*ggas 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 f*ckin' LAPD shot
n*ggas snitchin' to the street cops, get your nephews and your niece shot
When my heat c*cked, then the beef stop
n*gga with a attitude like I heard Dr. Dre doin' Detox
n*ggas fightin' for the throne, that ain't sh*t
Tryna measure the fallen legends but the shoe won't fit
n*ggas might think I'm ridin' di*k
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 b*tch 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, n*gga
The f*ck y'all mad at me for?
I ain't sold one f*ckin' record
I'm just tryna use this 200 bars to feed my family, n*gga
I ain't no threat
I can't rap, I'm from Compton remember?
You gotta be out yo motherf*ckin' mind
Ask Kay Slay, ask Clue, ask Whoo Kid, ask Funk Flex
I'll murder anyone of you motherf*ckers
G-G-G-Unit
Awwwww