The Cookout Lyrics – The Game, Larry June

Read the full The Cookout lyrics by The Game and Larry June from the album The Documentary III along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy The Game’s music, you can also explore The Pen and Meet The Parents, two other songs by The Game.

[Intro: Larry June]
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy

[Verse 1: Larry June]
First, you get a lot of love, but it come with the hate
I just heard some fu*ked up s*it the other day like, come on (Damn, uh)
I done gave n!ggas ways to make it shake
But I learned everything in this life you can’t say (At all)
It’s blood in the streets, a good time to save (A good time to)
Good time to bond, a good time to change (Numbers)
Adjust to the game, that don’t make a n!gga fake
Real n!ggas make it home and make sure they fam’ straight (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy)

Times got tricky, mind didn’t change (My mind)
Long drive alonе, did it for the pape’ (Numbers)
Did it out of dеsperation, did it for the chase
Made it out safe, now every day, I pray
‘Cause I really understand that this life s*it a break you (For real)
Street s*it just a situation that’ll take you (Take you)
Away from your family (Your family)
Away from that pape’ (That pape’)
Away from yourself (Yourself)
Now here come depression
I fu*k with LA like I fu*k with the Bay
I got spots in both, hand, wops and K’s (Uh)
Porsche and a valet (Uh), order me a filet
Make a million with Game, then pavé the chain (Damn, life is great)

[Chorus: The Game]
Ayy, welcome to the cookout
All the gangsters, the hustlers and the crooks out
Homies in the front, s*it, somebody gotta look out
While I’m in the back with my brains getting took out
Ayy, gold on the grill
Welcome to a place where all the hoes wanna chill
Yeah, the soundtrack to some real s*it
Money falling out the sky, yeah, we real rich
Pulling up in old-school Benzes

Hopping out G-Wagons on twenty inches
Oh and did I mention?
All this ’cause we was dreaming in the trenches

[Verse 2: The Game]
Everything golden like the state
Whole lot of love, fu*k out of here with that hate
To live and die in LA, but my second home is the Bay
Larry June before his time, like we did this in May
Now shoo fly, go away
Two classic-ass n!ggas, homie, let us be great
While breakfast getting served on preheated plates
Biggie in the background, cheese, eggs and Welch’s grape
Out in Mykonos, let’s make a toast, the great escape
You know you made it when you can’t understand what the waiter say
Yadadamean?
Like fu*k what a hater say
What’s a knock off Air Force One to a Bathing Ape?
Gorilla s*it, like when 50 dropped “Back Down”
N!gga, we came too far to turn back now
And what that n!gga Pac say? Oakland to Sac Town
The Bay Area and back down, give me love

[Chorus: Larry June]
Ayy, welcome to the cookout
All the gangsters, hustlers and the crooks out
Homies in the front, s*it, somebody gotta look out
While I’m in the back, chopping game with my gold out
Ayy, gold on the grill
Welcome to a place where all the hoes wanna chill (Hoes wanna chill)
Uh, the soundtrack to some real s*it
Money falling out the sky, yeah, we real rich (Real rich)
Pulling up in old-school Benzes
Hopping out G-Wagons on twenty inches
Oh and did I mention?
All of this, but we got it out the trenches