40 Ounce Love - The Game/Just Liv

Lyrics by：Just Liv/Elbernita Clark/Titus E Johnson/Jayceon Taylor/Stanley Benton

This is us

Impalas parked next to Bentley trucks

Four bins supposed to be here

I should dig 'em up

But since I can't

We gon' hold this Henny up

15 years of greatness

15 years of hatin'

15 years of patience

That's what I had to practice

So I ain't end up back on that country jail mattress

F**k all this rap s**t

In Compton we in the dirt

Sticks on us like a cactus

Cincinnati on

Closin' on the third strap

Gave two away to some fans

This my third hat

Runnin' this marathon

I'm on my third lap

Where my key to the city

Don't y'all think I deserve that

L.A sheriffs left Ryan on the curb

Flat

37 shots

So I'm on 133rd strapped

40oz love

White Air Force Ones in the mud

Euro front end on the Cutlass like "What's up"

See my dead homie mama hop out and give her a hug

40oz love n***as gon' ask so choose one Crip or Blood

Money fallin' out your pocket while you're sellin' d**gs

And we drinkin' Old English grab a cup

I'll fill it up for you

The Game：

You outta gas I'll fill it up for you

You surrounded in the club

We pullin' up for you

You went to jail I took that money put it up for you

You still got your hand out like I ain't did enough for you

You put on that snitch jacket and it stuck to you

On my life I love you but I can't f**k with you

I gotta stick to the code

Never slip never fold and stay rich 'til I'm old

Love my kids on my soul

Both my baby mamas know

If I go open the safe and give 'em all the gold

And my cousin Magic Cold he in the pen on his toes

How you talk them people into transferrin' you to a level 4

He got 20 months left that s**t movin' hella slow

20 blunts half a pound a day until they let him go

I give him 30 racks every time he touch the surface

I'm startin' to think this n***a goin' to jail on purpose

The Game：

Either way I gotta keep givin' you 40oz love

White Air Force Ones in the mud

Euro front end on the Cutlass like "What's up"

See my dead homie mama hop out and give her a hug

40oz love n***as gon' ask so choose one Crip or Blood

Money fallin' out your pocket while you're sellin' d**gs

And we drinkin' Old English grab a cup I'll fill it up for you