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Song title: The Game - Bigger Than Me

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These ni**as ain't bigger than me
These ni**as ain't Nas, ain't Jigga to me
These ni**as ain't Em, they ain't 50 to me
You ain't Pun, you ain't Pac, you ain't Biggie to me
These ni**as ain't Crips, they ain't 60's to me
These ni**as ain't Bloods, they ain't dripping with me
ni**as talking that shit 'bout the new generation, man
f**k these ni**as, I'll slash your f**king faces

You ni**as ain't sold shit, not an album or a rock
p*ssy ni**a putting rings on my old bitch
Dick down the throat ass ni**as, old ho' ass ni**as
Happy cause you went gold ass ni**as
These ni**as ain't spitting with me, you ain't sicker than me
f**k out my section you ain't sitting with me
This for very important people, it's clear that we not equal
Clear you ni**as faggots, I'm the black Marshall Mathers
Like "ying, ying, ying" on a motherf**ker
Who needs Hulk Hogan when you got Sting on this motherf**ker?
Less than five albums, Kiss the Ring on this motherf**ker
California throne and I'm the King on this motherf**ker
I don't wanna hear it – weak ass lyrics
Crying on the hook, thinking we gon' feel it
Old lost ass ni**as, voice crack when you talk ass ni**as
Rolling blunts for the boss ass ni**as
I came in with 'Ye, Jeezy and boss ass ni**as
Your Freshman cover a whole bunch of soft ass ni**as
Tampon lyricists, evacuate the premises
Mute BET Cyphers, cause I don't wanna hear that shit
May you Rest in Piss, you f**k ni**as, eh
Frank Ocean go ahead and f**k these ni**as
(Yeah, they f**k ni**as) Ain't no 3 stacks in your class
Take your Top 10 spot and shove it up your ass, bitch boy

ni**as already f**ked your bitch, you bitch boy
And every time you kiss your bitch you suck my dick, you bitch boy
And when you buy that ho a bag that bitch carry my bricks, you bitch boy

I was in the XXL, Red Chucks 'round my neck
I was the G in the Unit, had Buck round my set
Word to the rhymes [?] had Busta bust round my set
Gave Whoo Kid a Glock in case they bust round my set
I'm from Compton where that Glock can't f**k with that Tec
That's some Bompton, 40 Glocc got socked in his neck
This a spawn in the flesh, you a pawn hit reset
Five in the chest, I'm Makaveli the Don in the vest
Don't say "What's up" when you see me, you a p*ssy ni**a
Stranget, fake ass Kanye, fake ass Weezy
Fake ass jewelry, how I know? I'm at the pawn shop
ni**a better rob Jack and Flav for his alarm clock
Speaking of time, how much more 'til the Game drop
So you can suck my dick and Complex can count my name drops
I been the underdog, I'm cool in the dog house
f**k all these p*ssys, give me any name to call out
Left Aftermath, Dre told me ball out
Stunna put me on a private jet then we balled out
Landed in Miami, met some bitches ate 'em all out
Black Marshall Mathers, time to show 'em what it's all 'bout
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherf**ker
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherf**ker

Frank Ocean go ahead and f**k these f**k ni**as
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherf**ker
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherf**ker
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherf**ker
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherf**ker
Drop your single, I drop dreams on that motherf**ker
I should let my daughter scream on this motherf**ker
The industry soft, I should let Miguel sing on this motherf**ker
Ride out
Blood money, we gon' ride out
Ride out
And don't think I won't send six ni**as to your hide out
Rich Gang