C-Bo - Deadly Game lyrics

You know I never was no choir boy Ya folks got a, gang of priors Maybe that's why the one-time's be triflin Tryin to give a young n***a thirty-five to life When I ain't even done nothin wrong, off-icer I have no in-fo to offer-ya He asked my name, so I came off the brain Told him, "I'm John Doe and this is my hoe Jane" He said, "Smart mouth n***a, don't make me do ya" Put my thumbprint in his high tech computer My name came back with a warrant, felo-nies Now they got me down-town, spread my an*s bu*tock, I'm like, "What the fu*k is it now?" He said, "You robbed a liquor store; we know where, when and how" It's foul, they got a n***a to' up from the, flo' up My mom, in the courtroom lookin like she bout to throw up It's a strong armed robbery, strapped in the commision At my pre-trial conference, D.A. had a proposition He said if I lose at trial I'd get the? with the L on top But take the deal he'd give me five with havin most of the charges dropped Hopped on the deal quicker than blast, and said "I admit that, but two and a half ain't bad I got getback" They sentenced me to five, two I gotta bring It's only strike one swing, batta batta swing [Chorus:] It's one-eight-seven on the D.A., cause they Ain't tryin to give a young motherf**er no leeway Yes yes... y'all One-eight-seven on the whole courtroom, motherf** em all You better swing, batta batta swing Cause once you get your third felony, your fifty years you gotta bring It's a deadly game of baseball So when they try to pull you over 1 - shoot em in the face y'all 2 - shoot em in his face y'all 3 - take em on a chase y'all Fresh out the pen, unrehabili-tated Doin hella good, and my P.O. hates it Hates Dick, she's a dyke lesbian b**h Can't wait to violate for me for some petty a** sh** I gotta get a job, so I'm fillin out applications Fightin the temptation, to slang nightshift, uhh Minimum wage don't get it, five bucks a hour Don't cut it, man I ain't widdit So f** it, I went and struck it rich, on the dope sack My homie gave me two, and told me to bring a fo' back Now it's time for me to start havin thangs I flips me a Coupe and painted it candy-apple green It gleams, clear coat sprayed on thickly Fools out to get me cause my sh** is lookin sticky I'm at the club and I can feel them s**ers scopin I'm knowin they plottin on me, but I'm still hopin That they won't fry me, unless they wanna die They will be, drippin more blood, than Mrs. Simpson was Sho' nuff, ain't no bluff, here them s**ers come Got me reachin up under the panel to handle the forty-four caliber gun, uhh Spun his a** around with one of the fat Magnum rounds Got him on the ground makin funny sounds, ohh I got a problem, witnesses ten Positive identifa-cation [Chorus] On swoll in the pen, cellmates with X-Raided Now I'm on parole, five years later The Bo loc is ready to have me a ball f** my P.O., I'm goin AWOL And you all can s** this dick, I'm sick And tired of goin through all this b**h-made sh** I got two strikes right now as we speak, and peep I'm not bout to let you motherf**ers do, me I'm petty with a prior, will buy your fate With Wilson in the office, you gets no date So I'm putting all my belongings on Greyhound bus #22 Bound to another state, me and my crew Unpacked my sh**, stacked my grip California and Pete Wilson can s** my dick! And if you didn't already know, that you couldn't Trust his a**, just look how he did Polly Kla** Used her d**h, and her family's name So he can yank more votes, and political fame It's a shame, that I'm the one they say is a monster Juvenile delinquent, steppin out of sync with But fu*k THAT, I ain't goin out, like a punk That ain't my style, rip him from his a**crack To hit nutsacks now, they wanna k** a n***a Like me I blast one blast two that's strike three [Chorus]