Lookin At You (Album Version|Explicit)

Lookin At You - The Game (Jayceon)
Walking down the street  in my All Stars
In my  khaki suit  doin what I do
Walking down the street  smoking  chronic
In my black locs  lookin  at you
Guess who's back on the West coast tracks
It's the motherf**king messiah of gangsta rap
Still dip in the six-fo'  still puffin on the same chronic
Haters mad cause I still got it
I never fall off  even without the Doc
You niggas sellin your soul trying to stay on top
B**ch ni**a check your Kotex
You niggas ain't moving sh*t like the hand on a fake-a** Rolex
I'm five million sold
The cover of my last album the only time you see me sittin on gold
I'm the most anticipated  most celebrated
Most loved and the motherf**king most hated
Keep rolling like gold Daytons
Niggas got the game f**ked up like Hennessy with a Coke chaser
You gotta deal with me  I'm the West Coast savior
Niggas think of me every time they six-fo' scraper
What do you call a ni**a who's overbearing
Belligerent  foul  defiant and very disrespectful
You call that ni**a the Doctor's Advocate
He's a reflection of Dr  Dre in his heyday in the worst way
The five star surgeon general
Took Jayceon to the Aftermath research department
And gave him a blood test
It came back G-A-M-E positive
The ni**a's infected with the Game virus
His oratorical skills are so impeccable
That niggas in the streets call him Cyrus
The young damu's down with violence
Cause in his heart he's a tyrant
It's not a game  it's just called The Game
There'll be no referees  no halftime reports
When the game is over  The Game is over
You can't put a quarter in the machine and get three mo' men
THAT'S  the end
Walking down the street  in my All Stars
In my  khaki suit  doin what I do
Walking down the street  smoking  chronic
In my black locs  lookin  at you
I done been to hell and back
Left for dead  you know who to thank for that
Finished my second LP without a Dr  Dre track
You can take my soul but can't take my plaques
I'm the motherf**king snare when it touch the beat
I'm the 808 drum that got you movin your feet
I'm the heir to the throne after the D-R-E
Product of my environment  you old-a** niggas
Get ready for your early retirement
Before I let hip-hop burn down I run in the building like a fireman
Who can outspit me when I'm high off sticky
Throwing back Patron shots in some creased up dickies
I'm D O C  certified  Ice Cube lynch'd me
Snoop stamped me and the good Doc handpicked me
You still with me
Me and my mic can't be separated like Interscope and - hahaha
Ohhh sh*t
This some good a** motherf**king w**d
California sticky green
This is the aftermath for the Aftermath
West  coast