Jerseys In The Rafters - Snoop Dogg, The Game

Ayo, Dogg, what’s happenin' with motherfuckin' hip-hop, man?

Give us some lyrics, cuh

Some of that real hip-hop, y’know what I’m talkin' about?

Boy, you lost it, nigga

It was him (Who?) then me (Who?) and no one after

So I blaze my trail and wrote my own chapters

Stomped down, pterodactical

Gangsters stained my new jerseys in the rafters

Statisticians, they keep up with it

No sleep 'til they get it

And watch, they doubt it, they count it

So I learned how to dismount it

My landin' was perfect, a man with a purpose

I learned to resurface, a boss, but no workers

While you’re sleepin', I’m lurkin'

I’m shifty at fifty, I keep the work and I’m worth it

Big Snoop D-O double G, yellow like Uncle D

Mellow like R&B, ya bitches keep followin' me

I’m right where I oughta be, plottin' my pottery

I’m watchin' my calories, rechargin' my batteries

A ticket up front?

That’s my usual salary

They imitatin' my style, shit, I call it flattery

I’m here forever, nigga, and that’s just what that’ll be

Look it up, hook it up, charge it to the game until you book it up

Take a picture, nigga, look at us

Hit-Boy and Snoop Dogg in the kitchen, nigga, cookin' up

Ayy Dogg, get on the phone with Dre

Tell Dre call Interscope

Tell 'em niggas run me my shit, or else, nigga

The Game’s to be sold, blood, not to be told, blood

The chronic gettin' broke down, Backwoods get rolled up, yup

Fifty bloods when I showed up

West beef, chopper turn niggas into cold cuts

Snoop told me «Show love,"but niggas ain’t deserve it

I’ma talk my shit like I’m the next rapper murdered

with the Peter Pan workin'

Hand-to-hand serve 'em right outside of

Bullets ain’t got no names, my fully quick to aim

I bully niggas for change, I put in to rip the strains

Puppet master, got 'em duckin' faster

Aftermath, you niggas know it ain’t nothin' after

I can’t chill 'til I see a hundred mill'

Hope off with PJ in Aruba with a blunt, and chill

My old apartments still in action, water the runnin' still

And if I can’t kill you, these LA summers will

It was him (Who?) then me (Who?) and no one after

So I blaze my trail and wrote my own chapters

Stomped down, pterodactical

Gangsters stained my new jerseys in the rafters

Yeah, 2022, Death Row Records, nuff said