[Chubb Rock]
All attention to all of the, lyrical swigs
Whether you studio switch or you're, synching a gig
Yes! I address to all the known known factors
Where you slave to the rhythm of con-troling the masters
I. Smythe, whether you drive a Benz or a bike
Whether you straight hit or you go strictly Dyke
Dick Van, no drugs I only snort Dristan
And I point to the sister, and yes I can can
A, gangsta lean get funky like a latrine and
lyrics scream deep into the +Roots+ like Ben Vereen
Rockin, the Apple, since the Mayor were (?)
I smacked double platinum, or hit gold watch
I'll achieve, notoriety just like (?)
Squad squeeze, but they can mingle with the breeze
But hey, parlay - you don't know my way
These are the games we play..
[Chorus]
Hey, hey, hey (hey hey)
These are the games we play
"I don't know what else to say" -> Biggie Smalls
[Chorus]
[Chubb Rock]
Journalists script shit, that gets me kind of pissed
No real award given to the, funkiest hits and
lyrics get prolific and, kids start to sip it
Esophagus start bulge, specific and centrific
Get a dollar, if I sell more than the group Abba
The Source critics still want to diss my yabba, dabba-da-doo
The pulse that revived the crash crew
If I'm rockin, on the ra-a-adio eww
Why they, can't downgrade but if they try
I rock from Brooklyn to that Crooked-Letter-I
I, my temper, I remember starts to boil
The (? ?) but happy that the heads stayed loyal
The groove hits the ground from the maker of "Get Down"
Peace love and all that shit plus five pound
Buy hey, parlay - you don't know my way
These are the games we play..
[Chorus]
[Chubb Rock]
Mo hits the beat then Chubb handles the rappin
The un-thinkable flow is fly plus extra napkins
And the girls 'pon Flatbush look stush without my googles
And look as they squint then I blink push up the throttle
I, meet this to eat this I, leave this to Beavis
If I wanna smoke ya spliff I might get, stiffer than penis
Oooh, I had to go and rip your whole crew
with freeze love ran land butt rub and blue ooh
dippi - dippi dip on you
With all my niggaz and squads and the, funkiest jew
Ar-tistic lift it start the trend to the phonics
And, funk all pure lyrics that turn to alcoholics
Ghetto tales, start to prevail the shit
Whether you're East West Miami bass Blood or Crip
But hey, hey, you don't know my way
These are the games we play..
