Текст песни Beanie Sigel - Think It`s A Game
Beanie Sigel - Think It`s A Game слова песни
(feat. Jay-Z, Freeway, Lil Chris)[Chorus: Saint Nick]Think it`s a game `til them thangs come outI bang out `til your brains hang out.... cause you`re fuckin with a gangsta nigga, a gangsta niggaThink it`s a game `til them thangs come outI bang out `til your brains hang out.... cause you`re fuckin with a gangsta nigga, a gangsta nigga[Beanie Sigel]It was a, full moon in the beginnin of MarchBout the end of Winter `74The gangsta was born, introduced to sinnin and spinnin womenCats with big hats slammin Cadillac doorsWho choosin hoes, you losin hoes, you niggaz loose witcha hoesYou motherfucker y`all ain`t used to no hoesNiggaz wanna LoJack, track your bitches, shack your bitchesI pimps up, smack my bitchesYou wanna fuck trick your bitchesI duck flip my bitches, get that cash with that extra ass bitchPlus I keep a gat at arm reach You ain`t no hustler youse a car thief, nigga where your car keys?Crack topic, back block itThirty-one long black top it, you can`t stop it, gat top itBlack Mack, black glock it, blast rocketSit your faggot-ass on your back pocket (bitch)It`s not a game, prick[Chorus][Jay-Z]Straight gangsta nigga.. uhh, uh-huh-UHH-UHHStraight gangsta nigga.. yeahThey call me, Hov` the hustler, dough doublerDrove customers crazy in the late 80`s, early 90`sNow you can find me, girlie behind me, holdin my mink upIce pinkie ring in the air, drinkin my drink upTop down, `dro in the air, blowin that stink upIt`s seldom that I smoke, but it helps my thinkerMakes me a, mathematician about my mathGet celebrity ass, I`m a statistician - rap with precisionNigga, your hoe chose Hov`, that`s rapid divisionNow divide yourself and slideI, young Vito, voice of the young peopleMouthpiece for hustlers, ventriloquist for jugglersTook it where few went, made a few centsDon`t call me Hov` no more, call me _The Blueprint_Sold dope (and) sold crack (and) sold soap (and) sold rap (and)bought Bentley`s, bought `em back, nigga can you buy that??[Chorus][Freeway]Purpose for man - worship Allah, then you diePurpose of my gun - run in yo` shop and take piesPurpose of my son - raise him to do the sameClip blazin it through your brainsStrip, use it `til it`s burned outBenz Coupes, Jags and trucks when we roll outMan it ain`t no lie, it`s real as this four-fiveAnd real as these five salaats, whether we Deen or notOur kids gotta eat, red Beamer stopswhere your connects gotta meet, interrupt your copDependin on the dope size, we slide it from (?) sizeWith hammers with hollows you feel we follow we`re both risinThey killed your cousin you strapped and you won`t ride anddon`t think cause I rap that I won`t (?)Play O-Dog in _Menace_ and drive-by menReal gangsters keep a bitch in the wheel, workin the gas tankHoes on the strip, bringin that cash in[Chorus][Lil Chris]It`s C the young gunner, they call me the boy wonderWithout that caped crusader, that cake is major, uhhNickel plate stay with it, except for in schoolMetal detectors in school, for every last nickel get movedFucked every bad little bitch in the schoolGood with math but I skipped it in schoolAnkle to shop but I`m sick with them toolsShit, that`s why I`m kicked out of schoolFuck J`s by da locker, come and holla, uhhOut on my own, movin out with the chromeAnd can`t nobody take me out of that zone, not even A.I.It ain`t even a business, it`s just the way Iget it consistantly, flip it until the day I`m goneScream beef any day and it`s onThe same Chris dangerous with a eight in my palmAnd been paid since the day I was bornBut these lames think it`s a game `til them thangs is drawn, uhh[Chorus]