"Cats And Dogs" lyrics - THE GAME

THE GAME

"Cats And Dogs"

feat. Kobe

[Chorus: Kobe]
Not what your feeling bitch
You gon' learn to shut your mouth
'Cause we gone eat now now, now now
Fuck your feelings bitch
Just go hop your ass in here
And hold this shit round
Hold this shit down
Come move them things for me
Across town, town
And make sure they touchdown
Just makin' it in town
And make sure they touchdown, touchdown

[Verse 1: The Game]
Uhuh, I need a gangster bitch
Nigga I ain't lyin', Im talkin' when I fuck
She scream you hear sirens
No domestic violence
Just domestic diamonds
So let me ice you out
So when you slidin' down the pole
Doin' your Magic City thing
Your neck and wrist glow
Im dreamin', she ain't a stripper, she a classy girl
Goin' off that Patron, she my nasty girl
First name, Rachael, last name Jones
You related to Nas, girl, Queens my second home
You know, Prince Akeem coming with a Semmi and we can tear it up
Weekend in Cannes, then we coming to America
She wears those Jimmy Choos but she love that Gucci, never been to ATL
But she love that Gucci, Brrr
She taught me how to cook Cajun
And I taught her how to cook crack
And I chopped it on her back
Now tell me where they do that

[Verse 2: The Game]
I put her on a Greyhound
She know she better stay down
Ride or die like my Bentley
Man this bitch will never break down
She my bustin' baby, you should see her bust a tre pound
Love Roc-A-Fella so much, she won't even call me Jay now
She roll my weed man, like she my weed man
Then we get high, play Tiger Woods on that Wii, damn
Love is for a season, haters 365
And the game Cats and Dogs, keep your bitch by your side
Got a hardtop Lambo, when the rain start to pour
Not the rain outside, talkin the rain indoors
Her girlfriend told her, that I was creepin with a stripper
Told her I was courtside, watchin' the wack ass Clippers
Bitch please, I'm a Laker fan and Kobe that's my nigga
Keep my grass cut so I can see when the snake slith her
Shit, came out of no where like Khloe and Lamar
Kind of got a nigga thinkin' maybe I'm

[Verse 3: The Game]
I let her drive the Range on our first date
She the first one to put me on that Drake mixtape
I just wanna be successful baby
Take you out them Hudson jeans and re-dress you baby
We can walk down Rodeo, turn around, you on Melrose
Fly to New York in the winter and try on some Timbos
Or we can hit South Beach, fuck with Ross and Timbo
The world is cherry pie, and we can slice it up like Kimbo
You cook the rock, I break it down
I wrap it up, you weigh them pounds
I make the call, you start the car
We can drive it out of town
Im your nigga right? And you my bitch (Yeah)
Even if they lock me up, she gon' get them bricks there
When we get tired, we hit the truck stop and sit there
Unzip my 501's and she gon' put her lips there
The memoirs of a perfect bitch
You gotta hold them down even if its