[Intro: Swizz Beatz]
Yeah... y'all really want this to happen? (Game time!)
C'mon! ... ARRRRRRRRGH!

[Verse 1: The Game]
Homey it's hard not to kill n***as; it's like a full time job
Not to pull out the steel and shove it in your grill
Young California got that mass appeal
I summons the hood, they get up in yo' ass for real
Knockout flow, Winky Wright jab for real
And all you n***as pussy, need Massengil
See I'm the gun-cocker, one-shotter, lift 'em off the ground
Chop 'em down, like a cantaloupe, My flow the antidote
Sick flow, it's so, motherfuckin six-fo'
Your bitch know, hop in the back when you see Swizz ho
Diss that, all you n***as get up off my dick so
I can cook crack on the track and watch it mix slow
Cocaine, my flow fire, call it propane
Every n***a know Game, five shots no pain
And that's the reason why I'm shittin on you n***as
Shut me in the looney bin, I'm sicker than you n***as

[Chorus: Swizz Beatz]
(ARRRRRRRRGH!)
This is that disrespectful, motherfuckin West coast
Hip-hop death blow, Swizz Beatz, let's go!
[Verse 2: The Game]
Where I'm from, I seen the most stand up n***as lay down
Where skinny n***as make buff n***as victims of that trey-pound
And gangbangers is the sharpshooters, we don't need no rooftops
Just knock his ass down and take the money out his tube socks
West Coast n***as is back on the map
If only for now until the next time I body a track
From the first clap I hurt rap, now watch the earth crack
Bring the hearse back, and take a lyrical dirt nap
I roll with the hardest n***as, make money with the smartest n***as
I ain't got time for you fuckin artist n***as
Better shut your trap before you become a target n***a
Y'all army brats I'm the motherfuckin sargeant n***a
Beauty pageant-ass n***as on the runway
+Boyz N The Hood+ 'til they see the n***a in that red Hyundai
Blow his fuckin back out, cause I'm the rap Stackhouse
Black Wall Street bitch, the hip-hop crackhouse, what?

[Chorus: Swizz Beatz]
(ARRRRRRRRGH!)
This is that disrespectful, motherfuckin West coast
Hip-hop death blow, Swizz Beatz, let's go!

[Verse 3: The Game]
My flow opposite of handsome, it's ugly
Hip hop tantrum, sick, call the shit cancer
One man show cause I fucked all the dancers
Let the critics ask questions, my album be the answer
These n***as let the rumors sit in they head like tumors
So I had to take 'em back, to toothbrush on the Pumas
Clean... mean... rappin machine
Red rag hangin low in the back of my jeans
I black out like February, back out what's necessary
Oh-seven Bugatti with Jimmy Iovine's secretary
I'm runnin the buildin, don't make me run in the buildin
No this ain't the first time I had my gun in the buildin
Walkin past offices I see my son in the buildin
Last album on the wall I'm number one in the buildin
They should build me an office up under the buildin
My elevator goin down, I am done in the buildin n***a
[Chorus: Swizz Beatz]
(ARRRRRRRRGH!)
This is that disrespectful, motherfuckin West coast
Hip-hop death blow, Swizz Beatz, let's go!

[Outro: Swizz Beatz]
We in the motherfuckin buildin man
You ain't got your motherfuckin mind right?
You gon' get your mind blown out your motherfuckin mind right n***a
It is what the fuck it is man
How y'all wanna cut the cake?
You touch this you get your hands cut off, n***a
Swizz Beatz the motherfuckin monster
Game is in the motherfuckin buildin
We could turn this whole motherfuckin world red n***a
Bitch!