Game – I'm So Wavy Lyrics

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Niggas pop tags, I pop the four-five

Niggas got swag, I got the Tek-9

Niggas got cash better run it

Only dubs and hundreds, I don’t do fifties, nigga
And I don’t do 50-year-old Jiggas
Off that boss black Lamborghini, interior soft crack

Louis V golf hat, feelin’ like a Tiger
I made something out of nothin’ like MacGyver

Started from an eighth, flipped it to a key


I got ‘em like ay, trappin’ like Gucci

Plus I get more green than bleu cheese

And I keep a red bandana in my blue jeans

So, nigga calm your nerves, with all that absurd

Far from the curb bullshit slash spoken word

You nerd

I’m from the same city as Venus and Serena

So don’t get served

I’m so wavy, I don't need no yacht
Ain’t no Big Pimpin' on my block
But I’m an underground king, peace to Pimp C, yeah

Catch me ridin’ through the hood, 20-10 Bentley
You got cheese and I kill rats

Translation: I still trap

Now do something with that

Or respond to this

And with them big-ass lips

You got my name in your mouth

I hope it tastes like this—Ahh

No homo, one more time—Ahh

That’s your promo
And I been hard to the core since I went solo

Only man on my horse like my all-black Polo

And where I’m ’bout to go is usually a no-no

But I’m loco, got the camel in a chokehold

Tryna son me, I’m not from NYC
You can’t even have a child by your Destiny

And I ain’t mean to take a shot at B
I blacked out like you did Free

‘Cause I’m so wavy
Too hardcore to be a Jay-Z

Rock more red than Weezy Baby

Please say the Baby

Been around for years, so bitch, don’t Drake me

And this is not a diss

‘Cause I was just out in LA with Drake, bitch

And no disrespect to G and Hip-Hop

But nigga I’m a G and I’m doing this for hip-hop

And that’s ‘Ye’s brother, and ‘Ye my nigga so

I’mma give him some advice: Get rid of Amber Rose!

I’mma tell you how she get down

I was at Dig’s afterparty, sippin’ Cris

She was whisperin’ to Chris Brown

I seen Chris turn his head like “No!”

Then Gold Digger came on, I pointed like, “Hoe!”

But this ain’t ’bout her, this about Hov
I’mma chop down the Roc and take it to the stove

I apologize to B, ’cause this about Hov

I’ma chop down the Roc and take it to the stove
“D.O.A.?” No!

T-Pain stays, old nigga goes


I’m so wavy

Too hardcore to be a Jay-Z

All up in your ear like Drake beats
So the nigga that cut ‘Ye couldn’t fade me

You took a shot and the shit grazed me

I wet up your block just like the Navy

Put a label on the shit and write “Play Me”

DJs go in, DJs go in

Cause I'm so..


Funk Flex, you my nigga. Clue, what up? DJ Enuff. I know y’all can’t play this shit. It’s too wavy. And Jay your boy, it’s all good though, y’all still my niggas. DJ Drama, Kay Slay, lock in. I mean, this shit so hot DJ Whoooooo Kid might spin this shit at 50’s birthday party. DJ Skee! Khaled know we the best! Yo, Don Cannon, Cannon! I know y’all niggas locked in


DJ Chris Styles! Young Legend, Nu Jerzey Devil. DJ Felli Fel! Ed Deluxe, D Man, ride this shit straight through Big Boy Neighborhood! Kid Capri, tell Hovi Hov leave that young nigga alone! I mean, DJ Red Alert, what up OG? RED Album comin’ soon


I see you downloadin’ my swag, camelface. Blueprint 3 gon’ sell more cigarettes than it do records, nigga. Now I know why the taxes went up on tobacco, motherfucker

Heard ’bout your little fight backstage with Kanye, too. I got a million dollars say Kanye knocked that nigga the fuck out. Just tryna make good music, is all he tryna do. Shit, ‘choo fuckin’ with ‘Ye for? “D.O.A.” nigga? Please. I love 808s and Heartbreaks, nigga Love Lockdown my shit

And tell the world why Chris Brown$2$3$4$5 wasn’t at the BET Awards. This nigga told BET if they let Chris Breezy, him and Beyonce stayin’ at home, ol’ bitter ass nigga

Nigga, Dame, man, that’s your man. You and Dame was mans and ‘em. You and Dame used to be tighter than giraffe pussy and shit. You know your man having financial problems and shit. You number one on the Forbes list, nigga, you make 35 million and shit. Give a nigga a milli or sum’. I’d give it to him myself, but shit, I was only #13, nigga, on the list, way down there with Jeezy and shit, earned 7 million this year so far. But I’m on tour, nigga, Lamborghini Tour, live from Switzerland, I gets it in. Shit, I could use 28 more million. But I wouldn’t trade spots with you on the motheruckin’ Forbes list for that nose and them lips, nigga. My nigga Jay

And last but not least, peace to M.I.A., cause the Roc about to be MIA
No one on the corner got a swagger like you, ’cause no one on the fuckin’ corner is 42

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