Pull the rag off the six-fo',
Hit the switch, show niggas how the shit go,
The Game is back, the Aftermath chain is gone,
The D's is chrome, the frame is black.
(So watch it lift up)
Till the motherfucker bounce and break,
And knock both of the screws out the licence plate.
Let the games begin,
These other rap niggas so far behind me, go taste my rims,
Let the chronic burn as the datens spin.
It ain't been this much drama since I first heard Eminem,
In the club, poppin' X pills like M & Ms,
Call it Dre day, we celebratin', bitch bring a friend.
Bottles on me, tell the waiter to order another round,
And put that cheap-ass hypnotic down.
(Put your 'cris up!)
If you feel the same way,
Who got 'em hittin' switches NY to LA

(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as you got bitches in the back,
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass,
(If I could fit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the west-coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash,
In a blunt, call it Aftermath

Look at you girl, eyes brown, ass round
Feel like a nigga chasin down a rebound
It's bouncin like a basketball, if you got no ass at all
Sorry girl but you won't make the casting call
Skinny bitches need to find that nutritionist
Shit that make yo' ass so thick and delicious
Is it the food or is it the water?
That make your daughter wanna show what Momma taught her
C'mere... let me whisper in yo' ear (wassup)
Tell ya all that bullshit that you wanna hear (let's fuck)
You prolly hate my fuckin guts in a year
But right about now, you like a nigga's style huh?
How I talk, how I smell, how I smile
How I think, how I fuck, how I grab
Fuck with' me, ya get ya meat and ya vegetables
Fuck with' him, ya get a fuckin metrosexual

(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as you got bitches in the back,
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass,
(If I could fit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the west-coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash,
In a blunt, call it Aftermath

Yeah, I repeat, my name over beats
I binge on the finer things, you cringe in defeat
Escalation, elevation to another plateau
Sometimes ya take a few steps back to mentally grow
Here we go, what you know, campaign in motion
Straight West coast and West worldwide rollin'
Got that Aston Martin DV9 equipped with a stash box
In case I ever find myself alone in a tight spot
Strip down my frame, repave my lane
Insane with my ink pen, Citizen Kane
Don't complain when the chamber slide back and bang
Make it taste like shit when you sayin my name
It's the Golden State heavyweight, holdin the belt
Cause I'm a one man army, I don't need no help
This is a – PISTOL, I use to protect myself
Careful these hammerhead hollow points is bad for your health

(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as you got bitches in the back,
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass,
(If I could fit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the west-coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash,
In a blunt, call it Aftermath

You came up in there lookin all cute and stuff
You and yo' homegirl, a pimp couldn't get enough
You talk that shit like you weren't up in there just to fuck
Well guess what? Now bitch you with' us!
Yeah have a sip [sipping noise], go take a puff
Go and spend another blunt, naw roll it up!
What yo' name? A nigga love how you came
You just in need of some game
And I got that good thang, yeah it's a Westside hood thing
Let ya party over day and hit ya with' that ding-a-ling
I got that good shit, lollipop (lollipop)
And once I get up in ya, I make ya body rock (body rock)
A thick little bad bitch, walk with' a switch
Now all you need now is some gangster dick
It's the Big Bow Wizzow, you know I'm on the pusszow
Doggystizyle, that make ya kitty kat meow (meow!)

(If I could fit the whole hood in the club)
Hop in the low-rider, long as you got bitches in the back,
(I turn it into a strip-club)
Call it a lap-dance, when the six-fo' bounce that ass,
(If I could fit the whole world in the club)
Tell the DJ to bang my shit, the west-coast in this bitch
(Pop bottles and twist up)
Roll up chronic and hash,
In a blunt, call it Aftermath