Jermaine Dupri - Rules Of The Game lyrics

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Jermaine Dupri - Rules Of The Game lyrics

[JD] See around here How many things can make why y'all bounce you-know-I'm-saying? Left to right, right to left Its so so def And uh, yo, let it go [Chorus: Manish Man] Rule number one, my n***as gotta chase the cheese Number two, keep these mother-f**ing hoes on they knees Number three, come down with your strap-on strap-on n***as love to hate, so get your cap-on cap-on [Manish Man] One for my n***as ain't down for hoes Free drinks for my n***as staying crunk throwing bows Its ya boy Manish Man in this b**h n***as love to hate, hoes jock cause I'm getting rich Keep my mind on my fetti just to let you know Strapped with rocks, reds, and camera's in my black fo'fo On the east-side n***a trying to get me some paper Lying throwing stone out all over the cater These hoes be lovin the player, Jason calling me baby But f** that, I rather trot these hoes are too damn shady Look I don't need a b**h, I'm riding down for me And f** a gang of n***as, see I'm a soldier G And ain't another n***a, who got more got game than me You need to check yo sh**, because its lame to me Since 91 been paying the cost, to be the boss Got no time to floss, because the game's throwed off [Chorus] [Manish Man] Number one, my n***as gotta chase the cheese Number two, keep these mother-f**ing hoes on they knees Number three, don't forget to put ya strap on ya side n***a who ride who ride [JD] South-side, South-side If anybody know bout paper-chasing its me Playboy J to the, E-N-D Steady showing n***as how we do it down south Steady riding sh** that ain't even came out In the club, VIP is where you find me at Private planes, ice chains, I don't know how to act Every city, got me something pretty keep em on they back "If I ain't a hot boy then what do you call that" If its my sh**, off the top you can tell Cranberry, pineapple, four bottles of bale Cats that play sports, rap fresh from jail Hoes in packs, screaming out ATL See I'm the type of n***a that was built for cash Drive me and dropping putting down a smash Knowing nothing in life, but how to make these hits Get paper, spit game in, pull me a b**h [Chorus] [Manish Man] Rule number one, my n***as gotta chase the cheese Number two, keep these mother-f**ing hoes on they knees Number three, don't forget to put the strap on ya side n***a who ride who ride, East-side, East-side f** these hoes, f** these snitches Down south n***as, chop twenty-inches f** these snitches, and f** these hoes Four TV screen's, big Chevy four do's n***as best believe I'ma represent Hardcore n***as getting dead presidents Where the real n***as went, I'ma let you know Lay back with the strap, and they ain't found no mo' These lil n***as tripping, all that hollering-screaming I know yo momma saw dick, she should've swallowed that semen Now I'm driving through your block, red hot like a demon co*k it back, all you see is the beam from my demon And it ain't no ping ping n***a, black-eye black-eye No respect for the game, you better watch-out watch-out Got this sh** on lock, and now you locked-out locked-out All that hate on a player, gone get you knocked-out knocked-out [Chorus] [Manish Man] Rule number one, my n***as gotta chase the cheese Number two, keep these mother-f**ing hoes on they knees Number three, don't forget to put the strap on ya side n***a who ride who ride, East-side, East-side