Artist: The Game f/ Lupe Fiasco Album: California Republic Mixtape Song: Skate On Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Intro] The G-A-M-E, whattup man? (Stars on the Trak) Yessir! Aww (Lupe and me, red Ferrari) (Two-thousand and ten, in-fin-ity) [Lupe Fiasco] Where the Almighty low, well alrighty then I'm all mighty hoe, call me mighty Joe Quinn With Josephine Baker in the Benz On them shiny toes, glass slipper niggaz with your Cinderalla chins (pow~!) I'm a shark in the water You see my flippers and my fins The pool is my palace, go on send them niggaz in Rocks tar, lets take the Bentley for a swim I run the world take your hood to the gym Stretch it all out, and get it all thin Back on my fat shit, get it all again Rap on my back bitch, hip-hop on my brim You think you're high now? Well thy style's no higher than my eyebrows - it should be a sin Cleanse! Flow clear kinda like how air look or like a Cinderella pair look Or like Cinderella barefoot... No matter how many ankles of crews The moral of the story you can't fill my shoes (Who?) Lu! [The Game] Mass murderer! And the last verse from Lupe, touché Ferrari drop top, but it came with a toupee Niggaz say they got cars like us, but do they? Rap Phantoms, pack tandem and strippers from Atlanta Menage-a-trois let 'em fuck; I'll watch Stay on my J-O, Roley when I'm punchin the clock Up on the block, everything mine I, stay on my grind Chasin dollar signs, bumpin +Nas+, it's "Halftime" And I'm the G-A, money sign easy nigga Don't want shit for free but, Weezy nigga Load the Glock up, cops pop up You can go to Iraq, take all the straps, come back and couldn't stop us Aston with the top kush, paint job rock dust Hand what I got in the trunk'll get us all locked up So fuck niggaz and I'm talkin from behind the trigger Now come get a nigga, cause I'm sick of niggaz [Chorus: The Game] + (Lupe Fiasco) Hatin on me, you wastin your time Nigga wanna kill me? Then go stand in that line Kill that shit, I ain't tryin to hear that shit I know you hear that shit, so nigga (Skate on, skate on) wit'cha your bullshit (Skate on, skate on) Lupe tell 'em nigga (S-s-skate on, skate on) (Me and my niggaz tryin to stay on, so skate on) [The Game] Usually wake up early like them Philly niggaz In the weed spot, rollin kush A-R, go get a Phillie nigga First smoke or not, we swimmin in hard rock We push it out all spots 'til they get us up off blocks Straight for the 'bout pops, then bag it and bang LOX Watch for the top cops cause we nourish our own crops Smokin like blood claats inside of the drug spot Rotate 'em like Van Gundy, big man on the block Don't worry bout my residentials, or my credentials My flow a cocktail, through a Def Jam window That's for Shakur, I'm the rapper niggaz fear No need for Craig Mack to kick the +Flava in Ya Ear+ Keep the Lambo' in fifth gear, catch me on a sunny day Paint drippin like Lil Weezy in Baby tears King of L.A. I think I made it clear Ain't nobody outsellin five except Eminem and Dre this year [Chorus] [The Game] Now I've been rappin for nine years, four months, forty-five forty-six, forty-seven seconds, I was Dr. Dre's weapon Had the option to stay, and kept swervin Made some rookie mistakes, but so did Kyrie Irving If 50 was Lebron on a bad night or Floyd Mayweather when Manny Pacquiao did his jab right I fucked a bad bitch but that was last night And I ain't gon' say no names but she be singin, and her ass tight This year I'm gettin my cash right, thirty years old Let Drake or Soulja Boy live fast life Who ever said The Game whack, change that, 'fore the thang clap Niggaz fucked up rap, I bought the flame back Couple albums later, still the same cat And my P.O., only motherfucker thinkin that I ain't strapped Next time you doubt me I'ma have my accountant down South me You can do this rap shit without me I'm out G, in that twenty-eleven Audi Twenty-two Pirellis oiled up like the Saudis About to pick Lupe up from the hotel Yo Pharrell, let 'em know