[Chorus 2x]
  A little bit of game is all it takes
  A little bit of game goes a long long way
  
  [Verse 1]
  Cuddie I dont sleep much, 'cause when I close my eyes
  I hear cries from my potna's who lost they lives
  Visions of bloody brutality's reality
  Gotta stay focused and hope it dont affect my salary
  Them calories, they keep my pockets fat, I got to stack a grip
  Try not to trip, and keep them gold diggers off my dick
  I'm gettin' sick 'cause I drink 24-7
  The way I'm livin' now, if I die, theres no heaven
  Gotta help my potnas in the pen 'cause they livin' broke
  This aint no joke, on parole and I cant smoke
  No sticky indo, roll down the window
  'Cause if I breathe(?) the task is back ??? like Nintendo
  Gotta play the game like a professional
  If you aint having money I got to let you go
  I need to let you know the rules before you ???
  Rule number one potna, never should you pimpatrate
  I spit this pimpin' straight and cut no addatives
  Just nouns and adjectives, how mad you get dont mattter bitch
  I'm a player so I serve the game
  Maintain campaign, and have thangs
  
  [Chorus 2x]
  
  [Verse 2]
  Back in '92 I was drowned in them big cases
  But now its '97 and I'm counting them big faces
  I switched places with them sardines and squares
  The ??? fillet mignon, and garlic bread
  A hard head, big heart, and gorilla nuts
  Got me mobbin' thru the bay like I dont give a fuck
  I'm whipped, equipped, and stay dipped in butter sauce
  Pill if shes real, no scrill I cut her off
  'Cause fine ass bitches with the empty bank book
  Is worse than them ugly muthafuckas who cant cook
  My game cooked for five years in the feds
  Now its time for these game hungry niggas to get fed
  I get bread, so them suckas down me
  Smile in my face but clown me when they not around me
  Talk down on my every move, but I couldnt give a damn
  Playas do what they want, and suckas do what they can
  
  [Chorus 2x]
  
  [Verse 3]
  7-5-70, my DOB, uhh
  And I've been breakin' hoes since '83, what?
  Money makers manual, handle my business discretly
  Dont give my home phone number out, beep me
  'Cause aint no tellin' who be tellin', or who they tell
  And plus I heard that they be sellin' kinfolk the yayo
  Boy get your mail, dont act like your lil sista
  If you lackin' in this mackin' boy I bet you fist her
  Get some get right as I come tight to this Doo Doo Dumb
  Track, that cat K-Lou, knew how to come
  With Mac Dre, that 3 C veteran
  More game than March Madness, and dope as exederin
  Hit big licks, wouldnt pull no small capers
  I'm a be a dog and stay up like wall paper
  Look at these break bitches like they stank
  Collect my bank and stay sharp as a shank
  
  [Chorus]