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Ice-T - Check Your Game lyrics
Thanks to mart666@xxl.ee for these lyrics. Chorus: It's 99 players check your game Make sure them young boys respect your name Keep your heaters at close reach cocked and ready Cause the streets will catch you slipping, rock ya steady Watch your back with your homies that you feel is real Your homeboys from your crew, yeah them the ones that do you The suckas that got the player hater venom I wanna take 'em outside and lay some slugs up in em [King T] When they need work They call the cali drug expert Smashing in a six hundred dollar bill burnt Looking flossy living costly Off the edge, out of state They gots to break bread, for sho I needs mo' ice drops for the lexo Briggetts sets blow when I'm sipping the mo' Freelancing, trying to build a mansion And stay faded Have hoes walk around my crib butt naked... [Ice-T] True, pop the remy kick back and let the players represent High floss true boss game and take aim These sucka wannabe's Nigga please - you're green I'll bend hoes on the downlow - banks obscene Wanna chill with these niggas, bet you wish you could And suck game out my ass like sponges I run this You can't fuck with the steelo You niggas wanna be low When I'm on the east I play ceelo Cash flow One track mind serial hustler Quick to break a buster ya snitch bitch? I'll dust ya Bentley ballin' bastard No hustler faster Game maker I knock a white bitch and break her [King T] But Ice, Chronic got me bruising my brain But soothing my pain, I'm true to the game I got my mind made I gotta be that rich motherfucker Set it up so my grandkids don't suffer The phat hummer The phat drummer - what's your choice? Trying to find a sister with a voice Make her moist I'm throwing up the W Bringing trouble to Those in sight King T and Big Ice Chorus: [Ice-T] But T that's trippin' and that ain't my sport I'd rather lamp in my crib and flip the Robb report And set my v-dozen on the streets Bump my beats Cause when I'm twisting my dubs Can't nobody compete Imagine this: A hundred G 'lex on your wrist Imagine this: About ten karrots on your fist Imagine this: All dime hoes on your list Ha - that shit would be nice But your name ain't "Ice" - kid... I'll screw the silencer on - rock you softly How you gonna step to me kid? You grew up off me TV, Movies, and Records and Tours So many busters wearing Versace I don't wear it no more... [King T] But this will be a classic Many facets to get that ass kicked The alchoholic Don, call me King Tragic Watch me speak the magic Watch me teach that old habit - full of havoc And Ice'll tweak the mix when it statics People pay Just to have me stay And say a verse I'll freak a couple words unrehearsed Then I burst I mean I bust From all angles Guarunteed platium on your single [Ice-T] Yo T, I really must admit I'm blessed Master V does some other shit TV's in the head rests Never wear no vests because I got mad love I catch respect when other niggas catch slugs 1, 2 I bust shit to load guns to Beats for the hoodlums Somebody's gotta do'em Fed's screw 'em Faggot's got my whole crib bugged Mad tapps on the phone cause I deal with the thugs Drugs? never No, the Ice is too clever I'm overseas Checkin G's Nigga please Ballin' since the 70's - yeah baby Blew up in the 80's Now you niggas hate me You can't see me motherfucker your focus is off You can't be me motherfucker, you're broke and you're soft Too many niggas try to pert my lifestyle - romancing I was kickin game while them kids was breakdancing Overlord - so why the wack niggas ain't dead? Probably because my aim is over nigga's heads/ East coast - west coast, I play the whole map and bounce/ They got a benz but live in their mom's house... Chorus [King T] To all my G's rock on get your ride on - when you hear it The forbidden Gangland lyric Player Haters fear it Get you right up close near it Possessed by the Eazy-E spirit Ice-T set the limit And niggas won't cross this line suicide - and niggas won't cross this nine in your mouth puffin' with my niggas down south what the fuck this really all about? man.. I'm coming out front and back, 98 brougham All you fake G's stay home Leave that shit alone King Tee's back on the throne And that nigga on the mic - straight gone Cra-zy, y'all niggas wanna know the real deal? I'll freestyle and smack you in your grill Bomb lyrics, no special effects or gimmicks The Syndicate will put you in the mix - biatch... |
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