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A little bit of game is all it takes |
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A little bit of game goes a long long way [Verse 1] |
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Cuddie I don't sleep much, 'cause when |
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I close my eyes |
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I hear cries from my potna's who lost they lives |
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Visions of bloody brutality's reality |
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Gotta stay focused and hope it don't affect my salary |
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Them calories, they keep my pockets fat, |
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I got to stack a grip |
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Try not to trip, and keep them gold diggers off my dick |
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I'm gettin' sick 'cause |
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I drink 24-7 |
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The way I'm livin' now, if |
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I die, there's no heaven |
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Gotta help my potnas in the pen 'cause they livin' broke |
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This ain't no joke, on parole and |
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I can't smoke |
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No sticky indo, roll down the window ' |
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Cause if I breathe[? ] the task is back [? ] like |
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Nintendo Gotta play the game like a professional |
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If you ain't having money |
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I got to let you go |
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I need to let you know the rules before you [? ] |
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Rule number one potna, never should you pimpatrate |
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I spit this pimpin' straight and cut no addatives |
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Just nouns and adjectives, how mad you get don't mattter bitch |
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I'm a player so |
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I serve the game |
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Maintain campaign, and have thangs [Chorus x2] [Verse 2] |
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Back in '92 |
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I was drowned in them big cases |
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But now it's '97 and |
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I'm counting them big faces |
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I switched places with them sardines and squares |
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The [? ] fillet mignon, and garlic bread |
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A hard head, big heart, and gorilla nuts |
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Got me mobbin' thru the bay like |
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I don't give a fuck |
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I'm whipped, equipped, and stay dipped in butter sauce |
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Pill if shes real, no scrill |
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I cut her off ' |
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Cause fine ass bitches with the empty bank book |
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Is worse than them ugly muthafuckas who can't cook |
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My game cooked for five years in the feds |
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Now it's time for these game hungry niggas to get fed |
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I get bread, so them suckas down me |
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Smile in my face but clown me when they not around me |
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Talk down on my every move, but |
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I could'ntgive a damn |
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Playas do what they want, and suckas do what they can [Chorus x2] [Verse 3] 7-5-70, my |
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DOB, uhh And |
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I've been breakin' hoes since '83, what? |
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Money makers manual, handle my business discretly |
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Don't give my home phone number out, beep me ' |
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Cause ain't no tellin' who be tellin', or who they tell |
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And plus I heard that they be sellin' kinfolk the yayo |
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Boy get your mail, don't act like your lil sista |
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If you lackin' in this mackin' boy |
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I bet you fist her |
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Get some get right as |
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I come tight to this |
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Doo Doo Dumb |
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Track, that cat |
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K-Lou, knew how to come |
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With Mac Dre, that 3 |
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C veteran |
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More game than |
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March Madness, and dope as exederin |
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Hit big licks, wouldn't pull no small capers |
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I'm a be a dog and stay up like wall paper |
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Look at these break bitches like they stank |
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Collect my bank and stay sharp as a shank [Chorus] |