Man, what's up with these niggas out here
Mad at us cause we on top
I love to see niggas gettin' money
Better get it while the gettin' is good
Get it while you can, man
And stop hatin' me, fuckin' with my shit cause I got more hustle than you
Get yours, get yours baby

I'm seeing millions, niggas don't understand
Know what? I'm makin' moves, puttin' cash behind plans
To blow up, will he style like this
Everyday I parlay, sip Henne and Tanqueray
Stay in the mix like Alezay
V.I.P., my shit parked valet
On the prowl again to get hunnies familiar with the smile again
Some try to assault Dre, its still cavi
I'm eatin' steak while they struggle to break the slave mentality
I givin' livin' definition long as my hearts tickin'
I fought and made the world listen
Whatever fly Dr. Dre invented
Turn on the box and let my son watch these studio clowns on 60 inches
I push a rover, shit platinum before the sessions over
Rap master with the Houston heat holder
These players best to get they shit in check
Cause when I get my hustle on ain't no playin' with a full deck

[Chorus: x2]
Lord please, murder my enemies (Yeah)
Burn em at a thousand degrees
And lord please let me make mo cheese
Cause I ain't quite ready to leave (No)

Buck the whole world
Meant that, gotta stay strapped
Cause 99.9 a niggas, carry they gats
Super fist fightin' shit might come down to dyin'
When the time comes down for the tryin' I got nine
Reasons why niggas shouldn't step in my face
With the nonsense, cause I'm always heated and you can taste this
Audi little something out the seams a my trousers
With no hesitation I got a team to come clown ya
I down ya, so let your people know what they face
With the type of individual that'll bomb a sub-station
Kaboom! and everybody dies outside
There ain't no escapin' the Reaper so don't try
Go ahead, close ya eyes, who the next to step?
Face down, hit, bleedin' on the steps a death
Check yo self, you just been invaded by true soldiers
December 31st, 96 (the game is over)

[Chorus]

(I've got all my life to live, plus with all my love to give)

Smokin' weed I never trail, I lead
Spendin' dough, tripped the cost of a ride like it was pocket money, Gs
But these are the things real players do
Talkin' shit is real things that the haters do
I'm namin' you
Shit's thick, its time to run for shelter
I kept the word, things could happen to marks like it was helter skelter
Dear diary, I'm runnin' outta pages
Fadin', in and out, takin' purple hazes
The dazes, Revelations in the last stages
Red sky's institute, the silent horns playin
I'm prayin' with tears in my eyes
Cause I'm tryin' to make it into eternal peace without dyin'
But they eyein' my bank account with beams on my rover
The killa failed to launch his attack (the game is over)

[Chorus]

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Spirit Music Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): ANDRE YOUNG, BRAD JORDAN, O'SHEA JACKSON, RICHARD S. III VICK