Frankie Cutla** - Games (feat. J Quest & Roc-City-O) lyrics

(feat. Roc-City-O) [Hook:] Games people play (I wanna know) Games people play (why the brothers be playin' them games) [Verse 1:] Here comes the man of the hour Never catch me f**in' with cowards Rock men from Thug Life to High Powered Blazin' trees Chinese chicks to Lebanize Across seas me and Big Frank be pickin' up keys Sieze the opportunity to freeze MCs Recognize who be gettin' that cheese please I see you watchin' me like Whitenour You gettin' power Chickens ga**in' you thinkin' your clique is as big as ours Long time no beef on the streets Ain't nothing sweet I still walk around packin' heat You pose no threat you get yourself soakin' wet Vibes from the mac and the tech And what we be doin' chumps uptown we call them push ups Pushed about a thousand grills sh** is real (yeah) I leave no evidence cat's ain't been heard from ever since And officer, those ain't my fingerprints Down low I'm scary slide to the back of this City-O cash flow is miraculous Mark what I say somebodys got to pay My clique walk around sick like Doc Holiday [Hook x2] n***as got a lot of games [Verse 2:] A-yo blaze something quick So recognize who ya f**in' with I'm gettin' bricks runnin' with Colombians While you punk motherf**ers starve on a block I'm drivin' around spots gettin' mad props f** standin' on the ave gettin' cash (what?) That's all in the past I graduated fromt he cla** (yeah) Every thug get a chance to be the man I got mines and now this n***a's pissin' in they pants (ha ha) They scared to d**h they know it's real here I murder n***as if not I have them rollin' in a wheel chair I dare a n***a to step up i bet his t-shirt his sweater Have holes from my nine beretta I'm not the one for the postin' up sh** I toast you up quick I have you floatin' in the ocean I get down like that cause I have to in the Big Apple Many n***as try to cap you, for nothin' n***as be frontin' for fame they don't know the game All they want to do is leave blood stains That's why I keep my gat co*ked and steady Like Teddy I keep it on my waistline ready I'm deadly like Freddie Kruger but f** the claws I'm strickly steppin' to ya n***as with the ruegers "I need my sh** kid" that be rapidly repeated The more shots the more my enemy starts retreatin' So back the f** up I'm blowin' n***as out the frame Maintain before you get a bullet in your brain I'm that insain n***a from the Money Makin' All you n***as fakin' I'm a leave your body shakin' [Hook] The streets ain't no game Rock City will let 'em know [Verse 3:] Now yo f** the radio and f** the airplay I'm strickly underground sayin' what I want to say It doesn't matter if I'm hurt or not I'm a wreck shop my way and still get props That's my word sh** is gettin' real with these critics They always talk about a n***a lyrics I ain't tryin't to hear it Everyday the industry is gettin' realer Sort of like that crack sh** being done by the dealer Brothers gettin' paid under the table Labels already knowin' who they want to be stable But f** it I'm still gonna try to bring the ruckus I'm comin' through your town Ill Man with the Cutla** I saw a lot of n***as fail oh well They mad cause I'm everlasting like a Duracell Battery don't try to battle me My mentality is gettin' salaries is all reality [Hook]