The Game /

Bulletproof Diaries (feat. Raekwon)

[Intro: Raekwon]
Sit in the chair, yeah, yeah
Uh-huh, yeah
Sit my alligator jacket on the floor
Let that shit crawl around, what up Game?
How are you my nigga?
Let's get this money, you heard?

[The Game (Raekwon)]
Money in zip duffle bags, shotgun shells
My killas gorillas, nigga’s couldn't see 'em with gazelles
Fronting ass nigga’s, go hang with Pharrell
Trying to be a (Cowboy), you catch bullets like Terrell
Owens, call it T.O., he leakin’ like a project sink
Busted open like a hot dog link
Bing, it gave me time to think yeah, I did my fuckin prison thing
Came out still on point, like the RZA rings
I'm from Compton but my ink pen live in Queens
Rep the dub like Wu-Tang, and I got (Killa Bees) (respect)
Black Wall Mafia, new millennium Genevieves
Got a million dollars say LeBron don't win a ring (word?)
I know Kobe, I be on the floor, "Kobe!"
You know a nigga that can score 81? Show me
I got a (Cuban Link) to a fuckin’ O.G.
And nigga you're too close, what the fuck, tryin’a blow me? (back up)
This the face off (respect the don) diamonds all in the charm
(Iced out) Where you be? (The strip club throwin‘ ones)
Where you from? (New York, where you from?) Californ'
(Big sharks) Me too (swimmin’ in a pile of ones)

[Interlude: Raekwon]
Yeah nigga, tomorrow man
Goin to take you to go buy some 18-karat gold golf clubs nigga
In the Bronx

[Raekwon (The Game)]
This the face off (respect the dons, hundred thousand on the arms)
Son where you be? (Under palm trees stayin’ warm)
(Who you be?) Raekwon, who is you? (Amaze-on)
I'ma keep it (Compton) Staten ('til the day is done)

[Interlude: Raekwon]
Yeah, frontin’ on us nigga, it's like
It's like racing a nigga in Afghanistan to go get some oil nigga
You gon' fuck around and get your head burnt

I'm a New York dinosaur, Staten Island artifact
Hip-Hop's never dead, the (Cuban) gave 'em heart attacks
Sleep in the woods, target cats come from under the V's
Sneeze wrong, course I'm clappin’
Keep it movin’ homeboy, the mac's always actin’
Spit in your face, go 'head lil' baby rappers
Can't fuck with us convicts, Stat-land
It's like actions, cliques 'll die right with traction
It's Wall Street money and two gunny's
Slammers is extra chunky, yeah, me and my red monkeys
Silverback sales are few donkeys, all of us live comfy
Blow your head off like lunch meat
Chef in the game run the country
Take over the world little girl, better stay out our brunch meetin’
Fuck with their paper their gun squeezin’
Off top, leak from the cop, them nigga jumped, this is front season

[Interlude: Raekwon]
Yo, man yo Game man
Let these nigga’s know man for real man
We official man
They wan' be readin’ our autobiographies in a minute, ya heard?

[The Game (Raekwon)]
(Yo what if I was from Compton?) What if I was from Staten?
I'd be King Kong knocking down the buildings in Manhattan
(Guerilla warfare) Shootouts, real block shit
West coast assassin on some real 2Pac shit
My style's smoking like, after a glock spit
Game get the blood money, fuck bitches and pop Cris'
Style like it's New Year's, cause this a new year
Look at the tracks, either Bigfoot or The Game been through here
The Benjamin’s won't stop, and neither would a chrome glock
I kill a fire-breathing dragon with a dome shot
Come through your hood in a Chevy Malibu, on stocks
We had a meeting before we got here, and shit gon' pop
Heads gon' roll, Patron gon' spill
Fitted caps getting’ peeled like the chrome on the wheels
Got a half a mil', sing your wounds won't heal
I declare war, nigga who gon' deal?

[Outro: Raekwon]
Yeah, y'all know what time it is man
"Bulletproof Diary" nigga, for real
Many may read this man
A lot of nigga’s might not make it home, you heard?
We speak for the real ones man, for the church men man
All them real general nigga’s man
All them nigga’s that's out there man
Don't get no rest or none of that man, for real
The Chef nigga, Game what up baby?
I love you, ya heard? Superman lover over here for you baby
You know how we do it, we go all over the fuckin’ world man
Get a lot of bread man, word up, hun'ed my nigga
We take you to Boca Chica or some'n man, know what I’m sayin’?
Sip on some motherfucking, Don Julio or some'n, ya know what I’m sayin’?
With two foul rings on, ya know what I’m sayin’?
Couple of mean Guatemalans’ wit’ us
Half Guatemala, half Somalia nigga
Nigga’s ain't seen them colors man [fades out]