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Game Ova Part. 2

This song is by Yukmouth.

Round 2, nigga! I won the first round, nigga!
Go back to the drawin' board, nigga!
I'm built for dis, baby.
Oh yeah, and thanks for the promotion on the radio station.
I loved that, nigga!
Keep sayin' my name, keep sayin' my name, baby.
Keep blowin' me up, nigga, and I' ma cut your fuckin' throat, you bitch!(Breathe!)
The Game play games nigga.
You a lyin' ass toungue ring faggot, nigga!(Fuck the Game, you bitch!)

I crack your back
When I'm blastin' ya gat
Ya lungs collapse like a asthma attack
Nigga I make you hard to...
Faggot rap
Ya back bone is D'mack'n ya brotha, And you still got clapped
Lay on ya back and try to...
Nigga ain't from the hood
Your first album wasn't good
And every week you get slapped by Suge!
Bitch nigga...
Come to the Bay, man, the TECs gon' spray
It's like you're boxed in with pepper spray
Nigga I make you hard to...
And don't lie, that's the code of the streets
I drag you from the '64 by that G-Unit piece
You bitch...
Playin' games, you don't really want beef
My shot niggas got that G-Unit piece
Buck I know you can't...
You never met Pac, you never met Eazy
You're suckin' on my dick! Man, your lips too breezy!
You gotta...
Take deep breaths, adjust your tongue ring
While Dre stick his dick in ya ass, you pretty dumb thing (Fuckin' faggot!)
You a G-Unit model
I'll fill you up with them hollows
You fall, I follow and watch you wallow!
Now try to...
(Breathe!) (Nigga!)
War like Waco
My chain glow I made doe
Since you had that tongue ring And fade on the game show (nigga)
You're just a mixtape diva in every G-Unit sneakers
Y'all tryin' to sing them high notes like Aretha!
You gotta...(Bitch!)
Fuck Wall Street
A gat to your cheek
And put your brains on the passenger seat!
Game over he can't...

(Marc Shyst)
(Yukmouth talks over the chorus)
One into the two, two into the four,
The Game want war, The Game got war.
Four into the five, let The Regime ride.
Game ride wit them, the game ova for them.
One into the two, two into the four,
G-Unit want war, G-Unit got war.
Four into the five, let The Regime ride.
Game ride wit them, the game ova for them.

It's war time, You bitches understand me
There's no fist fightin'; on sight I'ma blam you
Smash niggas' face with gun handles
You know me the definition of the land of the scanners
You pose for the camera
I carry my own blamma
Bury niggas with Chucks on with wooden pyjamas
On the hood you square
Death is a promise
No niggas know you from the jungles to the bottoms
'Cause' you had contacts tryin' to GQ model
I was born with Pac, in the OE-bottle
You're a dick rider
Tryin' to fuck with which crews hotta
Match your tongue ring to the paint on your Impala
You're just another fuckin' clone
You maricón
Gettin' shitted on
For shoes and cell phones
You dead wrong, nigga, sayin' Yuk ain't safe
From E-1-4 to the Shaws There's a price on your face, you bitch!

Bitch Nigga!
You can't fuck wit us Regime life nigga?!
How dare you say Tha Regime on your fake ass skit?!
How dare you use "5 on it," you fake ass nigga?!
You ain't got no plaques on your wall!
You ain't got no money, you bitch!
You at yo momma house, you punk!
You tongue ring queen!
You can't fuck with me man!
Stay off the internet, you computer thug!
You don't want it, nigga!
You don't want war, you bitch!
(Chorus starts)
Joe Budden murdered you!
And Yuk gon dead yo ass, nigga!
I'ma whack yo bitch ass, punk!
You already know how we rock, nigga.
You just got your first tattoo 2 years ago, nigga!
When JT found you, you were tryin' to be a G-Q model!
You thought you was the next LL.
Remember you was saying that, you bitch?!
Be real!
Fake ass blood...

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