| «You're playin a game. |
| it’s all plain.»
|
| Uhh
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| Here go the style to make the young girls smile
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| They go wild when Grand Puba’s on they radio dial
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| Alamo hit me off with the butter cream
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| Watch me run the ghetto scheme, givin all the honies wet dreams
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| I’m gonna hit you where the drip go drop
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| And make your whole body tickle as we smack the nine-nickel, so
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| Here we come, here go that flow son
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| I be the one who get it done and I ain’t done until after honey come
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| You see my flow is great, no greater
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| If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a motherfuckin playa hater
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| Cause they hungry like Wally Gator
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| Why jealous niggas try? |
| I ain’t Woody and this ain’t Woodpecker Pie
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| Is it cause who we be
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| They hear us on the radio and see us on TV
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| Or just, playa hate us, be undercover
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| Jealous cause we MC brothers
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| That’s the way, it, goes
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| You know it’s 2000, playa haters need to stop, come on
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| Yeah
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| Tryin to jam wreck for the next man, yaknahmsayin?
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| Cause they don’t understand, you know?
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| Playin that game, yeah
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| See I’m the type of guy that’ll say — hey baby, let’s get away
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| Let’s go somewhere far, dig it
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| Cause I’ma put it on the mornin, if it’s on it’s on
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| When I’m goin I’m gone, it won’t stop the dawn
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| But I be careful cause the monster be lurkin
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| Some honies got it bad where them rubbers don’t be workin
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| Some stinkbox are like that Park called Jurassic
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| Slide up in the cut, it burns your rubber up like acid
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| So if you’re playin them games, you best be careful
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| Don’t let the 5−1-6 make you dareful
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| There you go, feelin good, you’re out of town
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| And it’s one of those nights, you feel like gettin down
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| You ain’t choosy on the honey you picked
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| No glove on your stick, you just wanna hit it quick
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| So you get down for your crown to represent
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| Honey’s runnin somethin, cause that short stay loot is spent
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| There you go, slidin raw dog again
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| Now you’re singin New Edition song, «Is This the End?»
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| Chorus (repeat to fade) |