Young Chris - Think It's a Game lyrics

[Hook: Saint Nick] Think it's a game 'til them thangs come out I bang out 'til your brains hang out.. .. cause you're f**in with a gangsta n***a, a gangsta n***a Think it's a game 'til them thangs come out I bang out 'til your brains hang out.. .. cause you're f**in with a gangsta n***a, a gangsta n***a [Beanie Sigel] It was a, full moon in the beginnin of March Bout the end of Winter '74 The gangsta was born, introduced to sinnin and spinnin women Cats with big hats slammin Cadillac doors Who choosin hoes, you losin hoes, you n***as loose witcha hoes You motherf**er y'all ain't used to no hoes n***as wanna LoJack, track your b**hes, shack your b**hes I pimps up, smack my b**hes You wanna f** trick your b**hes I duck flip my b**hes, get that cash with that extra a** b**h Plus I keep a gat at arm reach You ain't no hustler you's a car thief, n***a where your car keys? Crack topic, back block it Thirty-one long black top it, you can't stop it, gat top it Black Mack, black Glock it, blast rocket Sit your f*ggot-a** on your back pocket (b**h) It's not a game, prick [Hook] [Jay-Z] Straight gangsta n***a.. uhh, uh-huh-UHH-UHH Straight gangsta n***a.. yeah They call me, Hov' the hustler, dough doubler Drove customers crazy in the late 80's, early 90's Now you can find me, girlie behind me, holdin my mink up Ice pinkie ring in the air, drinkin my drink up Top down, 'dro in the air, blowin that stink up It's seldom that I smoke, but it helps my thinker Makes me a, mathematician about my math Get celebrity a**, I'm a statistician - rap with precision n***a, your ho chose Hov', that's rapid division Now divide yourself and slide I, young Vito, voice of the young people Mouthpiece for hustlers, ventriloquist for jugglers Took it where few went, made a few cents Don't call me Hov' no more, call me The Blueprint Sold dope (and) sold crack (and) sold soap (and) sold rap (and) Bought Bentley's, bought 'em back, n***a can you buy that?? [Hook] [Freeway] Purpose for man - worship Allah, then you die Purpose of my gun - run in yo' shop and take pies Purpose of my son - raise him to do the same Clip blazin it through your brains Strip, use it 'til it's burned out Benz Coupes, Jags and trucks when we roll out Man it ain't no lie, it's real as this four-five And real as these five salaats, whether we Dīn or not Our kids gotta eat, red Beamer stops Where your connects gotta meet, interrupt your cop Dependin on the dope size, we slide it from (?) size With hammers with hollows you feel we follow we're both risin They k**ed your cousin you strapped and you won't ride and Don't think cause I rap that I won't (?) Play O-Dog in _Menace_ and drive-by men Real gangsters keep a b**h in the wheel, workin the gas tank Hoes on the strip, bringin that cash in [Hook] [Young Chris] It's C the young gunner, they call me the boy wonder Without that caped crusader, that cake is major, uhh Nickel plate stay with it, except for in school Metal detectors in school, for every last nickel get moved f**ed every bad little b**h in the school Good with math but I skipped it in school Ankle to shop but I'm sick with them tools sh**, that's why I'm kicked out of school f** J's by da locker, come and holla, uhh Out on my own, movin out with the chrome And can't nobody take me out of that zone, not even A.I It ain't even a business, it's just the way I Get it consistantly, flip it until the day I'm gone Scream beef any day and it's on The same Chris dangerous with a eight in my palm And been paid since the day I was born But these lames think it's a game 'til them thangs is drawn, uhh [Hook]