The Game — Bad Intentions Purp & Patron

[Intro] Hey, yo, let me get some more Patrón Cherry Coke Some motherfuckin' Zig-Zags [Verse 1] Bad intentions, nigga, fuckin' with the wrong one Call Dre, tell that nigga I'm on one Aftermath, nigga, we blaze Cuban cigars And drive foreign cars, nigga we stars Fuck bitches at our leisure Stuff dick inside they throat 'til they have seizures Hoes down, B's up Roll the trees up, Smokey Robinson Get high, start trippin', I like his jewelry, then I'm robbin' son Fuck a platinum plaque, nigga hood with it Bouncin' that Impala down the shore like, "What's good with it?" I'm a made man, I wear J's and I been around more rocks than a fuckin' caveman I done sold it and bagged it I done drove it and crashed it Fucked my credit up smashin' the Aston F.Y.I., nigga, I got a magnum Only time I been punked was by Ashton Kutcher I'm a motherfuckin' butcher Leave me around anything white and I'ma cook it I be all up in the kitchen, no need for an apron, playboy I'm a professional, I'm cakin', playboy The last real D-boy in this rap shit Chrome 24s with the fat lip, call them shits Ras Kass Rasclart, you fuckin' with the bomb squad Dismantle any MC for free, you been warned, god Church, high power Impala sittin' clean like it took 5 showers Nigga, I'm the G.A.M.E., so don't you tempt me Your chest'll be full and my clip'll be empty I'm simply one of the most raw niggas in this shit Why you think that I got in this shit? Paid for my momma house, 'bout 700k Can't stop smokin' but I'm down to a blunt a day Yay, I mean yayo On the block, sun up, sun down, like where the day go? We come through chargin', nigga, like San Diego Seventeen chargers, couple of 'em same color but the shit is ok though 'Cause all my niggas on the payroll get caught slippin' and get a halo And I ain't talking 'bout the Xbox Niggas let the tech knock Welcome to the real-life Black Ops Where it's still fuck the police, white or black cop And we ain't killin Jonny Law, nigga, give 'em an ass shot Put him on injured reserve Tie my number twelves up and then I give him the bird, word That's how I get down, all you rap niggas floppin' Who talkin' shit now? Only Drake and Yay worth coppin' I take a hiatus, spend a little time gamblin' in Vegas Come back to back runnin' faster than five Lakers So motherfuck a hater and his family About to finish the R.E.D. album up in Miami Lebron can't stand me, 'cause I got this Purp in my cup 24s on the truck, Laker Game, nigga, what? Ballin, Jim Jones voice, problem with the Byrd Gang? See the chrome, boy, and my mother fuckin homeboys? But I'm from Cali not to be confused with Khaled He say that we the best but I'm the best, that's valid And before you try to say that that's a diss I was at Khaled's house two days ago, bitch Sippin' Long Island Iced Teas with a white bitch That was just as bad as Ice-T's, but she's not the wifey The wife be at home with the kids Look at them and see how a motherfucker live 24 cars, 5 and a half cribs, I was spendin' money like goin' broke was the shit Shit