Trails of Flowalistics - Check Your Game lyrics

Chorus: It's 99 players check your game Make sure them young boys respect your name Keep your heaters at close reach co*ked and ready Cause the streets will catch you slipping, rock ya steady Watch your back with your homies that you feel is real Your homeboys from your crew, yeah them the ones that do you The s**as 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 state They gots to break bread, for sho I needs mo' ice drops for the lexo Briggetts sets blow when I'm sipping the mo' Freelancing, trying to build a mansion And stay faded Have hoes walk around my crib bu*t naked... [Ice-T] True, pop the remy kick back and let the players represent High floss true boss game and take aim These s**a wannabe's n***a please - you're green I'll bend hoes on the downlow - banks obscene Wanna chill with these n***as, bet you wish you could And s** game out my a** like sponges I run this You can't f** with the steelo You n***as wanna be low When I'm on the east I play ceelo Cash flow One track mind serial hustler Quick to break a buster ya snitch b**h? I'll dust ya Bentley ballin' ba*tard No hustler faster Game maker I knock a white b**h and break her [King T] But Ice, Chronic got me bruising my brain But soothing my pain, I'm true to the game I got my mind made I gotta be that rich motherf**er Set it up so my grandkids don't suffer The phat hummer The phat drummer - what's your choice? Trying to find a sister with a voice Make her moist I'm throwing up the W Bringing trouble to Those in sight King T and Big Ice Chorus: [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 wrist Imagine this: About ten karrots on your fist Imagine this: All dime hoes on your list Ha - that sh** 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 me TV, Movies, and Records and Tours So many busters wearing Versace I don't wear it no more... [King T] But this will be a cla**ic Many facets to get that a** kicked The alchoholic Don, call me King Tragic Watch me speak the magic Watch me teach that old habit - full of havoc And Ice'll tweak the mix when it statics People pay Just to have me stay And say a verse I'll freak a couple words unrehearsed Then I burst I mean I bust From all angles Guarunteed platium on your single [Ice-T] Yo T, I really must admit I'm blessed Master V does some other sh** TV's in the head rests Never wear no vests because I got mad love I catch respect when other n***as catch slugs 1, 2 I bust sh** to load guns to Beats for the hoodlums Somebody's gotta do'em Fed's screw 'em f*ggot's got my whole crib bugged Mad tapps on the phone cause I deal with the thugs Drugs? never No, the Ice is too clever I'm overseas Checkin G's n***a please Ballin' since the 70's - yeah baby Blew up in the 80's Now you n***as hate me You can't see me motherf**er your focus is off You can't be me motherf**er, you're broke and you're soft Too many n***as try to pert my lifestyle - romancing I was kickin game while them kids was breakdancing Overlord - so why the wack n***as ain't dead? Probably because my aim is over n***a'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 n***as won't cross this line Suicide - and n***as won't cross this nine In your mouth Puffin' with my n***as down south What the f** this really all about? man.. I'm coming out Front and back, 98 brougham All you fake G's stay home Leave that sh** alone King Tee's back on the throne And that n***a on the mic - straight gone Cra-zy, y'all n***as 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 - b*atch...