Check Your Game (featuring King T)
Chorus:It's 99 players check your game
Make sure them young boys respect your nameKeep your heaters at close reach cocked and readyCause the streets will catch you slipping, rock ya steadyWatch your back with your homies that you feel is real
Your homeboys from your crew, yeah them the ones that do youThe 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 stateThey gots to break bread, for shoI needs mo' ice drops for the lexo
Briggetts sets blow when I'm sipping the mo'
Freelancing, trying to build a mansionAnd stay faded
Have hoes walk around my crib butt naked...[Ice-T]
True, pop the remy kick back and let the players representHigh floss true boss game and take aim
These sucka wannabe's
Nigga please - you're green
I'll bend hoes on the downlow - banks obsceneWanna chill with these niggas, bet you wish you couldAnd suck game out my ass like spongesI run thisYou can't fuck with the steelo
You niggas wanna be low
When I'm on the east I play ceeloCash flowOne track mind serial hustlerQuick to break a buster ya snitch bitch?I'll dust yaBentley ballin' bastardNo hustler fasterGame makerI knock a white bitch and break her[King T]
But Ice, Chronic got me bruising my brainBut 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 sufferThe phat hummerThe phat drummer - what's your choice?Trying to find a sister with a voiceMake her moistI'm throwing up the WBringing trouble toThose in sight
King T and Big IceChorus:[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 wristImagine 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 meTV, Movies, and Records and Tours
So many busters wearing Versace I don't wear it no more...[King T]
But this will be a classicMany facets to get that ass kickedThe alchoholic Don, call me King TragicWatch me speak the magic
Watch me teach that old habit - full of havocAnd Ice'll tweak the mix when it statics
People pay
Just to have me stayAnd say a verseI'll freak a couple words unrehearsedThen I burstI mean I bust
From all anglesGuarunteed platium on your single[Ice-T]
Yo T, I really must admit I'm blessedMaster V does some other shit TV's in the head restsNever wear no vests because I got mad loveI catch respect when other niggas catch slugs1, 2 I bust shit to load guns to
Beats for the hoodlumsSomebody's gotta do'em
Fed's screw 'em
Faggot's got my whole crib buggedMad tapps on the phone cause I deal with the thugsDrugs? never
No, the Ice is too cleverI'm overseas
Checkin G's
Nigga pleaseBallin' since the 70's - yeah babyBlew up in the 80'sNow 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 softToo many niggas try to pert my lifestyle - romancingI was kickin game while them kids was breakdancingOverlord - 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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