[Verse 1]
Pull the rag off the six-fo',
Hit the switch, show niggas how the *** go,
The Game is back, the Aftermath chain is gone,
The D's is chrome, the frame is black.
(So watch it lift up)
Till the mother***er bounce and break,
And knock both of the screws out the licence plate.
Let the games begin,
These other rap niggas so far behind me, go taste my rims,
***, let the chronic burn as the datens spin.
It ain't been this much drama since I first heard Eminem,
In the club, poppin' X pills like M & Ms,
Call it Dre day, we celebratin', bitch bring a friend.
Bottles on me, tell the waiter to order another round,
And put that cheap-ass hypnotic down.
(Put your 'cris up!)
If you feel the same way,
Who got 'em hittin' switches NY to LA
[Hook]
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as you got bitches in the back,
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass,
(If I could fit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my ***, the west-coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash,
In a blunt, call it Aftermath
[Verse 2]
Somebody tell me where the drinks at,
Where the bitches at,
You *** on the first night, meet me in the back.
I got a pound of chronic, and a gang of freaks,
Move bitch! Who the *** you think they came to see?
The protégé of the D R E,
You take a picture with him, and you gotta *** me,
And you gotta *** Busta, can't touch Eve,
Got something in my waist that you can't touch either,
That's - my gangsta bitch, and like Crips and Bloods,
I'm in the club on some gangsta ***.
(So nigga twist up)
Light another dub,
Bitches get scared when niggas start fighting in the club.
Ain't nothing but a g-thing, baby it's a g-thing,
Bounce like you got hydraulics in your g-string,
I *** a different bitch seven days a week,
Hit the switch, watch it bounce like a Scott Storch beat.
[Hook]
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as you got bitches in the back,
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass,
(If I could fit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my ***, the west-coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash,
In a blunt, call it Aftermath
[Verse 3]
Niggas thought I wasn't coming back, look at me now
Hoppin' out the same Cherry six-fo' with the mother*** top down,
I'm The Game, nigga
Call your bitch, she ain't home, she with Game, nigga
Remember that, Dre
You passed me the torch, I lit the chronic with it, now the world is my ashtray,
Ridin' three-wheel motion 'till the ass scrapes,
Turn sunset into a mother*** drag-race.
Now watch it bounce,
Hit the switch, let it bounce till the police shut the *** down.
(When you hit the club)
Tell 'em you came with me,
(We gonna twist up)
In the V.I.P.
It's a new day, and if you ever knew Dre,
Mother***er, you would say I was the new Dre.
Same Impala, different spokes
Same chronic, just a different smoke.
[Hook]
(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as you got bitches in the back,
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass,
(If I could fit the hole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my ***, the west-coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash,
In a blunt, call it Aftermath
