"Lyrical Exercise" lyrics - THE GAME

[Hook:]
This a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Jus a lyrical excersise, it go 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

I'mma flip white on the block till I get life in the box
Or till I get ice from a shot
But till then, it's chill gems, ice in the watch
And yes nigga, we the best nigga, like it or not
'Cause ya'll be writin' dead weight like you got a red cape
When the 8 blast, ya fake ass be scared straight
I'll rush on ya set, then cut you to death
Get it right, knife stuck in ya neck
Man you got two options cut me a check
Or stuck on the vest before you get bucked in the chest
I squeeze till nothin' is left
You'll get banged in the head with revolvers like russian roulette
Ya'll doin' a lot of talkin', I'm tired of talkin'
Ya bout to hear tires screeching and iron sparkin
When the heater pop, look who totin' a sig
And it'll open ya lid like a sneaker box
If I creep you ock, I'mma spray ya way
In all black, like agent jay look this pay me day
I need that, get ya spleen clapped
I'll make you bleed where you breathe at

[Hook]

My name is V-I to the R-U-S
In a new S, Glock and a new vest
And a tre pound bout to lay down
A new set, cooperate
Or I'm poppn 8 leave his crew wet
Shit I'mma true vet, you don't want trouble see
'Cuz ma name got buzz like a bumble bee
I hustle see, pounds of the white lady
Institution flow, everything I write crazy
I like gravy nigga, so I'm seein checks
My dough mean, I grow green like chia pets
See the rest say my name out they fuckin' lips
Like I ain't word in the streets, like I ain't fuckn cyss
These fuckin' pricks gonna learn to respect me
Or the burner leave em burned where your chest be
Burned in a nestlee, green herbal, nigga my green purple
When I zone, that chrome with the beam murk you
You need a O, see me, I get em cheap
My fiends be missin' teeth like ODB
But see this ain't bite, this a O-Z from C-Y
Smoke it and C-Y you might O-D, you see
I'm survivin' in the jungle, spittin shottas
So a nigga gettin' bodied ain't suprisin' in the jungle
But, I'mma dam rida, I'm bout a dam dolla
You need somethin' to smoke, give me a dam holla
That tan product got it poppin' for the?
Smoke so good have the fiends knockin at the door
Cockin' back the 4, pop out noise
I play the block but watch out for the hop out boys
Shit, 5-0 drive by slow, the sig pomet
Can't fuck wit pigs, somethin' like islamics
All I know is schemin' for cash, heaters and mags
All dat shit I learned, they ain't teach in a class
It started from wit an ounce in a house
I was runnin shop, make sure they had it in
And make sure they come an' cop
I'm wanted ock, fight guys wild
When I'm the one with the gun with the cyclops eye
Bet somethin' ock, if you bet nothin' pop
Beef like sex, be strapped and catch somethin' hot
I'm that wise, that's why I wear the mag
F-Y-I, I'm too deep to get compared to Cass

[Hook]

If you owe me, don't come wit half my cheese
'Cuz this 3-5-7 be the mag I squeeze
For the chips I got chicks to come bag ma weed
No joke I smoke till I look half Chinese, nigga
And ma eyes is about to shut, bent off a dub of haze
And a choclate dutch
I'll pop ya guts, leave ya bent ova bleedin'
I'mma boss, the dogs that I sent over squeezin'
I can get ya house clapped up, get ya spouse snatched up
So pop, fly and get ya, mouth smacked up
Act tuff in my pants where I'm tuckin the torches
Still big, kill kids like fuckin' abortions
Ock, I'm on the block servin' that wet fever
O you smoke? One toke, we makin' 'em catch seizures
Old heads know I'm the truth, they bet visa's
I'm gettn bread, fuck chicken heads, I sex divas
And my camp seated
I got an extra extra large magazine, but ya can't read it

[Hook]