[Chubb Rock]
|
All attention to all of the, lyrical swigs
|
Whether you studio switch or you're, synching a gig
|
Yes! I address to all the known known factors
|
Where you slave to the rhythm of con-troling the masters
|
I. Smythe, whether you drive a Benz or a bike
|
Whether you straight hit or you go strictly Dyke
|
Dick Van, no drugs I only snort Dristan
|
And I point to the sister, and yes I can can
|
A, gangsta lean get funky like a latrine and
|
lyrics scream deep into the +Roots+ like Ben Vereen
|
Rockin, the Apple, since the Mayor were (?)
|
I smacked double platinum, or hit gold watch
|
I'll achieve, notoriety just like (?)
|
Squad squeeze, but they can mingle with the breeze
|
But hey, parlay - you don't know my way
|
These are the games we play..
|
|
[Chorus]
|
Hey, hey, hey (hey hey)
|
These are the games we play
|
"I don't know what else to say" -> Biggie Smalls
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Chubb Rock]
|
Journalists script shit, that gets me kind of pissed
|
No real award given to the, funkiest hits and
|
lyrics get prolific and, kids start to sip it
|
Esophagus start bulge, specific and centrific
|
Get a dollar, if I sell more than the group Abba
|
The Source critics still want to diss my yabba, dabba-da-doo
|
The pulse that revived the crash crew
|
If I'm rockin, on the ra-a-adio eww
|
Why they, can't downgrade but if they try
|
I rock from Brooklyn to that Crooked-Letter-I
|
I, my temper, I remember starts to boil
|
The (? ?) but happy that the heads stayed loyal
|
The groove hits the ground from the maker of "Get Down"
|
Peace love and all that shit plus five pound
|
Buy hey, parlay - you don't know my way
|
These are the games we play..
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Chubb Rock]
|
Mo hits the beat then Chubb handles the rappin
|
The un-thinkable flow is fly plus extra napkins
|
And the girls 'pon Flatbush look stush without my googles
|
And look as they squint then I blink push up the throttle
|
I, meet this to eat this I, leave this to Beavis
|
If I wanna smoke ya spliff I might get, stiffer than penis
|
Oooh, I had to go and rip your whole crew
|
with freeze love ran land butt rub and blue ooh
|
dippi - dippi dip on you
|
With all my niggaz and squads and the, funkiest jew
|
Ar-tistic lift it start the trend to the phonics
|
And, funk all pure lyrics that turn to alcoholics
|
Ghetto tales, start to prevail the shit
|
Whether you're East West Miami bass Blood or Crip
|
But hey, hey, you don't know my way
|
These are the games we play..
|
|
[Chorus] - 4X
|
|
-----------------
|
Games We Play
|
Chubb Rock |