Текст песни
Hoppin over barbed wire fences nigga
Had this one broad right, SHE was so damn sprung
She used to hold my motherfuckin. motherfuckin sack, nigga!
Thought you thought, nigga
In a motherfucking VHS, uh. motherfucking canister
Nigga, yeah ay, I promise you nigga this game been so damn good
(Said this rap game’s been good to me)
Hard times
(But I don’t know how long that’s gonna be.)
Hope I don’t go back to slangin yayo
Slangin yayo, to get my maillll
Been a hustler since birth, mama sellin dinners for the church
Red-handed, caught me stealin money out her purse
Got branded, permanent whip scars on my back
Cause I used to get beat, with racing car tracks
But now me got wealth, holdin a conference call on my Hands free car telephone lookin like I’m talkin to myself
Shootin the breeze cuttin it up real smooth like
Choppin it up like true business men
Talkin about it, by the way
B — what we doin' this week on SoundScan?
If I ain’t in Japan, I’m in the Valley
Or maybe next door in Gary Payton bowling alley
Or maybe at the shootin range, me and Banks
Or on the golf course, with Merton Hanks
Or we lay in the sun, give me my propers
With a beat that’s out of this world, lookin down on doctors
Sippin on Port, watchin my kids play basketball
In the backyard on a 40 by 63 foot long sports court
Biatch!
Business spot up in the wilderness, coyotes and wild boars
Dupont registry aluminum pool table made strictly for outdoors
Twenty inch gold super Bravos on my? everybody ain’t able
To be blessed with success with an independent-ass record label
Check it out, marbles, I got the game from my Uncle Saint Char-les
Used to bank across the street at Wells Fargo
But now it’s Merrill Lynch
And just think, I used to sit the bench
I remember gettin chased by the cops, had to get my stomach pumped
Full of a quarter ounce of rocks, late afternoon
Po-po waitin for me outside of Vallejo Kaiser Permanente
Emergency room with Glocks, ready to Rodney King me to death
Somehow I managed to make my escape through
The back of the cafeteria by the vending machine department quickly
Found myself runnin through the Friendship Apartment Complex
Over there by the railroad tracks, around the corner from the
People’s Continuation High School
Somewhere off in Lofas, behind Je-nai's Liquor ooh
Get my mail, check it out, dope game ain’t goin
Now it seems the, white-collared crimes, are hookin up phones
«Charlie Hustle, I got a few mathmatics
I’m doing a compilation, should I go with Phunky Phat Graph-X?
I tell them, «Hell yeah that’s a done deal, dude them be off the hinges
Dude them did my cover and my bus benches»
Game warrior invested, worldwide Sick-Wid-It shit, independent chips
BEYOOOOOOOOOTCH!
Ay see ay, I’mma tell you nigga
That’s the thing about this whole thing that
Jump off
It’s a fool cause a muh’fucka take his bloody money right
Until
He sit up there and he look and he say
«Hold on man, hold on man»
Muh’fucka, yknowmsayin?
You can either be at this shit
Or you can be gone
With this shit
And you look at it and then he say, «Man hold on Let me translate this shit — let me translate into some marbles
Let me liquidate my motherfuckin revenelles»
You understand what I’m sayin? 40-Water now, you understand?
Ay, ay, but look, check this out
I’m here to sprinkle motherfuckers, lace they tennis shoes
Teach them about the motherfuckin game-orienfested situations
That goes down in the motherfuckin motherfuckin soils weepolations
I ain’t bullshittin niggas!
I don’t bullshit!
I ain’t bullshittin nigga!
There’s too many jealous brothers in this game
I can’t stany the same I gotta get mine
Get my money on Don’t wanna go, don’t wanna go, don’t wanna go Don’t wanna go back — back to the game, heyyyy
To get your mail, BEYOOOOOOOTCH!