(2x)

A little bit of game is all it takes

A little bit of game goes a long long way

Cuddie I don't sleep much, 'cause when I close my eyes

I hear cries from my potna's who lost they lives

Visions of bloody brutality's reality

Gotta stay focused and hope it don't affect my salary

Them calories, they keep my pockets fat, I got to stack a grip

Try not to trip, and keep them gold diggers off my dick

I'm gettin' sick 'cause I drink 24-7

The way I'm livin' now, if I die, there's no heaven

Gotta help my potnas in the pen 'cause they livin' broke

This ain't no joke, on parole and I can't smoke

No sticky indo, roll down the window

'Cause if I breathethe task is back like Nintendo

Gotta play the game like a professional

If you ain't having money I got to let you go

I need to let you know the rules before you Rule number one potna, never should you pimpatrate

I spit this pimpin' straight and cut no addatives

Just nouns and adjectives, how mad you get don't mattter bitch

I'm a player so I serve the game

Maintain campaign, and have thangs

Back in '92 I was drowned in them big cases

But now it's '97 and I'm counting them big faces

I switched places with them sardines and squares

The fillet mignon, and garlic bread

A hard head, big heart, and gorilla nuts

Got me mobbin' thru the bay like I don't give a fuck

I'm whipped, equipped, and stay dipped in butter sauce

Pill if shes real, no scrill I cut her off

'Cause fine ass bitches with the empty bank book

Is worse than them ugly muthafuckas who can't cook

My game cooked for five years in the feds

Now it's time for these game hungry niggas to get fed

I get bread, so them suckas down me

Smile in my face but clown me when they not around me

Talk down on my every move, but I could'ntgive a damn

Playas do what they want, and suckas do what they can

7-5-70, my DOB, uhh

And I've been breakin' hoes since '83, what?

Money makers manual, handle my business discretly

Don't give my home phone number out, beep me

'Cause ain't no tellin' who be tellin', or who they tell

And plus I heard that they be sellin' kinfolk the yayo

Boy get your mail, don't act like your lil sista

If you lackin' in this mackin' boy I bet you fist her

Get some get right as I come tight to this Doo Doo Dumb

Track, that cat K-Lou, knew how to come

With Mac Dre, that 3 C veteran

More game than March Madness, and dope as exederin

Hit big licks, wouldn't pull no small capers

I'm a be a dog and stay up like wall paper

Look at these break bitches like they stank

Collect my bank and stay sharp as a shank