Too $hort (too Short) - Games Over lyrics

Intro: Too $hort Man, what's up with these n***as out here Mad at us cause we on top I love to see n***as gettin money Better get it while the gettin is good Get it while you can, man And stop hatin me, f**in with my sh** cuz I got more hustle than you Get yours, get yours baby Verse One: Dr. Dre I'm seeing millions, n***as dont understand Know what? Im makin moves, puttin cash behind plans To blow up, will he style like this Everyday I parlay, sip Henne and Tanqueray Stay in the mix like Alezay V.I.P., my sh** parked valet On the prowl again to get honies familiar with the smile again Some try to a**ault Dre, its still cavi Im eatin steak while they struggle to break the slave mentality I givin livin definition long as my hearts tickin I fought and made the world listen Whatever fly Dr. Dre invented Turn on the box and let my son watch these studio clowns on 60 inches I push a rover, sh** platinum before the sessions over Rap master with the Houston heat holder These playas best to get they sh** in check Cuz when I get my hustle on ain't no playin with a full deck Chorus: Ice Cube Lord please, murda my enemies (Yeah) Burn em at a thousand degrees And lord please let me make mo cheese Cuz I ain't quite ready to leave (No) [repeat 2X] Verse Two: Scarface Buck the whole world Meant that, gotta stay strapped Cuz 99.9 a n***as, carry they gats Super fist fightin sh** might come down to dyin When the time comes down for the tryin I got nine Reasons why n***as shouldn't step in my face With the nonsense, cause I'm always heated and you can taste this Audi little something out the seams a my trousers With no hesitation I got a team to come clown ya I down ya, so let your people know what they face With the type of individual thatll bomb a sub-station Kaboom! and everybody dies outside There ain't no escapin the Reaper so dont try Go ahead, close ya eyes, who the next to step? Face down, hit, bleedin on the steps a d**h Check yo self, you just been invaded by true soldiers December 31st, 96 (the game is over) Chorus (I've got all my life to live, plus with all my love to give) Verse Three: Dr. Dre, Scarface Smokin weed I never trail, I lead Spendin dough, tripped the cost of a ride like it was pocket money, Gs But these are the things real playas do Talkin sh** is real things that the hatas do I'm namin you sh**'s thick, its time to run for shelter I kept the word, things could happen to marks like it was helter skelter Dear diary, I'm runnin outta pages Fadin, in and out, takin purple hazes The dazes, Revelations in the last stages Red skys institute, the silent horns playin Im prayin with tears in my eyes Cuz Im tryin to make it into eternal peace without dyin But they eyein my bank account with beams on my rover The k**a failed to launch his attack (the game is over) Chorus