Meek Mill – Respect the Game Lyrics



[Verse 1]
Yah
Big bag, got ’em big mad
A nigga gettin’ to some money and his bitch bad
Jumpin’ out the Rolls truck with the temp tag
I’m gettin’ money, I don’t get mad, ugh
Ask a nigga in my hood, he go and said it on stand
And when them situations came, I came out like a champ
When it was pourin’ down rain and I came out of it damp
But now it’s champagne showers when we poppin’ the champ’, ugh
We dodged all the feds and they traps
Niggas can’t be us ’cause they rats
Stand tall, point a finger, never that
I knew a nigga had it all, went to the B, ain’t get it back
That’s why I’m humble as ever, and I rumble whatever
Don’t chase hoes ’cause they come with this cheddar
I seen my man girl start actin’ bougie when he fuck up his cheddar
Before you knew it, niggas was fuckin’ her better
I knew about it and I-
Wanted to tell him, I felt funny as ever
But when I told him, he went runnin’ to tell her, damn
Remember I was down bad, I’m talkin’ under the cellar
Now the Rolls Royces come with umbrellas
For the rain and all the pain that we been through
If you don’t feed your wolves they gon’ put you on the menu
That’s why I be with family and some bulls that I been knew
If money determined loyalty, we’d cut you with a Ginsu
Now I go against you, facts

[Chorus]
Rule number one, never count your homie pockets thinkin’ you deserve it
Rule number two, never trust a bitch that’ll fuck you for some purses
Rule number three, save you some of that money, shit you better stop splurgin’
‘Cause when it’s all said and done and you back at the bottom, they gon’ treat you like you worthless
Respect the game

[Verse 2]
Fuck the fame
We millionaires fuck your watch and lil’ chain
Niggas disappear as quick as Lil Xan
You feelin’ yourself, I know you got a lil’ lane
Just hold your composure, I seen this shit happen over and over
That couple hundred thousand holdin’ you over
That ain’t real money
That’s bill money, buy a Rollie, get a wheel money
Catch a case, pay a lawyer, take a deal money
Now you tapped out and got no appeal money
Callin’ home like niggas done did you wrong
But when you had that money you could’ve put niggas on
And the moment they put cuffs on you, your bitch was gone
Student of the game, I’m just ahead of my class
I’m that nigga, but I never got my head up my ass
You doin’ good, but I’m ready for bad
And you won’t never catch me frontin’ ’cause I’m used to bein’ second to last
Respect the game

[Chorus]
Rule number one, never count your homie pockets thinkin’ you deserve it
Rule number two, never trust a bitch that’ll fuck you for some purses
Rule number three, save you some of that money, shit you better stop splurgin’
‘Cause when it’s all said and done and you back at the bottom, they gon’ treat you like you worthless
Respect the game



Eminem – The Ringer Lyrics



[Intro]
*Plane crashing*
Yeah, yo, I’m just gonna write down
My first thoughts, see where this takes me
’Cause I feel like I wanna punch the world in the fuckin’ face right now
Yeah!

[Verse]
Let me explain just how to make greatness
Straight out the gate, I’m ’bout to break you down
Ain’t no mistakes allowed, but make no mistake, I’m ’bout
To rape the alphabet, I may raise some brows
If I press the issue just to get the anger out (brrr)
Full magazine could take Staples out
Savage, but ain’t thinkin’ ’bout no bank account
But bitch, I’m off the chain like Kala Brown
Motherfucker, shut the fuck up when I’m talkin’, lil’ bitch
I’m sorry, wait, what’s your talent? Oh, critiquin’
My talent? Oh, bitch, I don’t know who the fuck y’all are
To give a sub-par bar, even have an opinion of you
You mention me, millions of views
Attention in news, I mention you
Lose-lose for me, win-win for you
Billions of views, your ten cents are two
Skim through the music to give shit reviews
To get clicks, but bitch, you just lit the fuse
Don’t get misconstrued, business as used
Shit-list renewed, so get shit to do
Or get dissed, ’cause I just don’t get
What the fuck half the shit is that you’re listenin’ to, do
You have any idea how much I hate this choppy flow
Everyone copies though? Probably no
Get this fuckin’ audio out my Audi, yo, adiós
I can see why people like Lil Yachty, but not me though
Not even dissin’, it just ain’t for me
All I am simply is just an MC
Maybe, “Stan” just isn’t your cup of tea
Maybe, your cup’s full of syrup and lean
Maybe, I need to stir up shit, preferably
Shake the world up if it were up to me
Paul wants me to chill, y’all want me to ill
I should eat a pill, probably, I will
Old me kill the new me, watch him bleed to death
I breathe on the mirror, I don’t see my breath
Possibly, I’m dead, I must be possessed
Like an evil spell, I’m E-V-I-L (evil, spelled)
Jam a Crest Whitestrip in the tip of my dick
With an ice pick, stick it in a vice grip
Hang it on a spike fence, bang it with a pipe wrench
While I take my ballsack and flick it like a light switch
Like vice-president Mike Pence back up on my shit in a sidekick
As I lay it on a spike strip
These are things that I’d rather do than hear you on a mic, since
Nine tenths of your rhyme is about ice, and
Jesus Christ, man, how many times is
Someone gonna fuck on my bitch?
(Fuck my side chick!) You won’t ever see Em icy
But as cold as I get on the M-I-C
I polarize shit, so the Thames might freeze
And your skull might split, like I passed you upside it
Bitch, I got the club on smash, like a nightstick (yeah)
Turn down for what?
I ain’t loud enough, nah, turn the Valium up
‘Cause I don’t know how I’m gonna get your mouths to shut
Now when it doesn’t matter what caliber
I spit at, I’ll bet a hundred thousand bucks
You’ll turn around and just be like, “Man, how the fuck
Sourpuss gonna get mad just ’cause his album sucks?
And now he wants to take it out on us.” (ooh-ooh)
But last week, an ex-fan mailed me a copy
Of “The Mathers LP” to tell me to study
It’ll help me get back to myself and she’ll love me (ooh-ooh)
I mailed the bitch back and said if I did that
I’d just be like everyone else in the fucking industry
Especially, an effing “Recovery” clone of me (didn’t I think)
So finger-bang, chicken wang, MGK, Iggy ‘zae
Lil Pump, Lil Xan imitate Lil Wayne
I should aim at everybody in the game, pick a name
I’m fed up with bein’ humble
And rumor is, I’m hungry, I’m sure you heard bumblings
I heard you wanna rumble, like an empty stomach
I heard your mumblin’, but it’s jumbled in mumbo-jumbo
The era that I’m from will pummel you, that’s what it’s comin’ to
What the fuck you’re gonna do? You run into it
I’m gonna crumble you and I’ll take a number two
And dump on you, if you ain’t Joyner
If you ain’t Kendrick or Cole, or Sean, then you’re a goner
I’m ’bout to bring it to anyone in this bitch who want it
I guess when you walk into BK, you expect a Whopper
You can order a Quarter Pounder when you go to McDonald’s
But if you’re lookin’ to get a porterhouse, you’ll better go get “Revival”
But y’all are acting like I tried to serve you up a slider
Maybe the vocals shoulda been auto-tuned, and you woulda bought it
But sayin’ I no longer got it, ’cause you missed the line and never caught it
‘Cause it went over your head, because you’re too stupid to get it
‘Cause you’re mentally retarded, but pretend to be the smartest
With your expertise and knowledge, but you’ll never be an artist
And I’m harder on myself than you could ever be, regardless
What I’ll never be is flawless, all I’ll ever be is honest
Even when I’m gone, they’re gonna say I brought it
Even when I hit my forties like a fuckin’ alcoholic
With a bottle full of malt liquor
But I couldn’t bottle this shit any longer
The fact that I know that I’ma hit my bottom
If I don’t pull myself from the jaws of defeat, and rise to my feet
I don’t see why y’all even started with me
I get impeached, my enemies die, I don’t cease fire
‘Til at least all are deceased, I’m eastside
Never be caught slippin’, now you see why
I don’t sleep, not even a wink, I don’t blink
I don’t doze off, I don’t even nod to the beats
I don’t even close my fuckin’ eyes when I sneeze
“Aw, man! That BET cypher was weak, it was garbage
The thing ain’t even orange—oh my God, that’s a reach!”
Shout to all my colorblind people
Each and everyone of y’all, if you call a fire engine green
Aquamarine, or you think water is pink
“Dawg, that’s a date.” “Looks like an olive to me.”
“Look, there’s an apple!” “No, it’s not, it’s a peach!”
So finger-bang, Pootie Tang, Burger King
Gucci Gang, dookie, dang, Charlamagne
Gonna hate anyway, doesn’t matter what I say
Give me Donkey of the Day, what a way for 2018
To get underway, but I’m gonna say everything that I wanna say
Welcome to the slaughterhouse, bitch! (yeah)
Invite ’em in like a One A Day, I’m not done (preach)
‘Cause I feel like the beast of burden
That line in the sand, was it even worth it?
‘Cause the way I see people turning’s makin’ it seem worthless
It’s startin’ to defeat the purpose
I’m watchin’ my fan base shrink to thirds
And I was just tryin’ to do the right thing, but word
Has the court of public opinion reached a verdict
Or still yet to be determined?
‘Cause I’m determined to be me, critique the worship
But if I could go back, I’d at least reword it
And say I empathize with the people this evil serpent
Sold the dream to that he’s deserted
But I think it’s workin’, these verses
Are makin’ him a wee bit nervous
And he’s too scurred to answer me with words
‘Cause he knows that he will lyrically get murdered
But I know at least he’s heard it
‘Cause Agent Orange just sent the Secret Service
To meet in person, to see if I really think of hurtin’ him
Or ask if I’m linked to terrorists
I said, “Only when it comes to ink and lyricists.”
But my beef is more media journalists
(Hold up, hold up, hold up…)
I said my beef is more meaty, a journalist
Can get a mouthful of flesh
And yes, I mean eating a penis
‘Cause they been pannin’ my album to death
So I been givin’ the media fingers
Don’t wanna turn this to a counselling sesh
But they been puttin’ me through the ringer
So I ain’t ironin’ shit out with the press
But I just took this beat to the cleaners

Lil Xan – Xanarchy

[Chorus]
What? Ayy
Movin’ Xan n’ dope, ayy, what? (Xanarchy, huh)
Movin’ silent tho’
Yeah, ayy, ah-uhh, haha, fuck it, yah (yuh, brr-brr)
You are now listening to a Bobby Johnson beat
Ayy, ayy, ayy (shout-out Bobby Johnson, bitch)

[Verse 1]
What? Movin’ silent doe, yeah (huh, what)
Ayy, I ain’t got no hoe (no, what)
Ayy, snakes this silence tho’ (brr, brr, brr)
Ayy, silence on my heater (brr, brr, brr)
Yo’ bitch in my two seater, hah (brr, brr, brr)
Ayy, ayy, yo’ team need’a new leader (ayy, and I’m..)
Ayy, I just poured a four in my two liter (brr, uh, skrrt)
She call me, a daydreamer, what?
Rollin’ in the beamer ’bout to beam ’em in the beamer, yeah
(Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)
Cream soda pour my lean, yeah (what, what, what, what)
It ain’t even a thing, yeah
Carried late, got all these baby things, yeah (pew, pew)
Talk shit, haha, ayy (pew, pew)
Why your girl masturbate to my lyrics? (brr, brr-brr)
Lemme transmit my lingo
Ayy, diamonds wind up Finding Nemo
Limousine got the bean
No diamond ring for my t’ing, yeah (pew, pew, pew, pew)
Only for my team, yeah (pew, pew, pew, pew)
No strings attack, ayy, ayy, none of things.. ayy-yah
Got the girls attached
Gold neck, roll in, come to me, ha
Leave it, throw on the roof (ooh-ooh-ooh)
Uh, ayy, drop-top Lexus
Checkin’ out bae on my checklist
Yeah, I’m with the Misfits, big booty, big bitch, hah (brr)
Ayy, big booty, big bitch ayy, yeah (brr)
Big mounds of money, yah
Foul dirty words, rip a J around
Shot fired from the ground, yah
My beamer’s lurkin’, talkin’ ’bout some searchin’ (out the boof)
Never lose inertia, yuh, ayy, haha-ayy (out the boof)
Yeah, your bitch, she a virgin yuh-hah, ayy
Ayy, yo’ bitch she a vir…ah..uh (pew-pew, brr, ayy, what)
Another dead president
Smirk and you got evidence (ayy)
Now you need new residence, ayy, ayy (what)
Guess what?

[Outro]
Lil Xan fuck yo’ bitch, yeah
Lil Xan, wait, I fuck yo’ bitch
Out the boof
Bitch, I’m out the muthafucking boof, bitch
Xanarchy
Bitch, Xanarchy gang, bitch
We out here
Ayy, join the wave, bitch
I wan’ kill myself, bih’