Just tha other day my little homie stole a quater ki, from tha task Task got my phone tapped, niggas went to florida, homie got kidnapped Now tha game
game still slingin' weight None of that's yo' life that ten in the brown For XL six or seven fo' pound Suede seats is hot but Italian leather is better And with camera
score Record labels is slave drivers fronting chaperons I'm out on my own free and full grown I just call it like I see it like a camera phone Stay on
(Thank you) Cameras or guns one of ya'll is gonna shoot me to death Just know that shit I take it...Easy (That's how we doin' this) (I like that) I take
it this one'll be fine This time I know I'm gonna smash the bet I foresee it smacked in the back of the net Men grip slips, wipe their hands that sweat The camera
y'all. Stick 'em out y'all. All my Detroit playas, let's go! [Kon Artis - Chorus] I ain't set the stroke and I ain't for games, I just came to fuck
She wanted to be a nun Until that fateful day we met I beat the crucifix in a game of Russian roulette I burned my Beatles records because she hated
camera phone light shows Life was so full Now this shit just being lipo'd Always said I'd say it all on the right track But in this game you only lose
says hey, yo, yo He picks me up and sit me on the seat And then he get the phone and get to dialin' the police I'm on the run but I can't walk yet Can
game, P.E. We ain't for the fame We for the change I wake up everyday with my game face on You know the name, P.E. You know the game, P.E. We ain't for
he take showers Baby mom on greyhound for eight hours See her man face to face through a glass on the phone, ten years he got chasin' that cash And he had the game
thee Caugh nine packs, I sneeze a ki Roll through Panama, floss the Benz Wipe my Timberland's, off with ten's 50/50, the Lil' Twin Leave the rap game,
a hoola-hooper Hold up a second kinfolk, she don't wanna share me This ain't no funeral stop actin' like an obituary *Phone Rings*, Operator give me the
a hundred dollars. Then I'll make a phone call. [Roxie Hart] A hundred dollars? Will you just... I mean, it seems pretty stiff for a phone call. [Mama
kids put away up in the house A fellas Cameras in the lawn to spook a nigga out Pitbulls in the backyard trained to kill call my folks up on the phone
if my name was Pete Rock or Sean Puffy Combs Send your tattered ass home with celly phones, I roam With my fleet, here to make this rap game complete
could I forget, my memories never faded I can't relate to these haters, my enemies never made it I am still here with who I started with The game needed
be like somebody else And you just wanna be yourself And you do it and get the feeling ita??s wrong It is when all the press articles happening And the cameras