| Yeah, Terror Squad motherfucker!
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| (And the Hoo Bangin affiliates.) Uh huh.
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| I know you ain’t think you was gon see this niggas.
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| (Nope.) East coast, west coast. |
| (It's all the same.)
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| Joey Crack, Big Pun, Mack 10.
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| (Speak on it, Joe.)
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| Haha, niggas what!
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| At times I feel like blastin myself, endin it all
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| Niggas on my same team be prayin I fall
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| Tellin the feds, that I’m still cappin the raw
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| Know all about the stash box on the floor of my Porshe
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| Boy George-in it, livin the life of the fortunate
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| Show you how warm my fuckin coffee get
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| My crew often get the blame for hideous crimes
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| Why do niggas stay platinum with the shitiest rhymes?
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| Can’t call it, all these niggas claim that they ballin
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| But it appears your empire’s fallen
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| Fuckin with Joe and Pun, real niggas since day one
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| The same cats you get? |
| terroria? |
| from
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| East coast, west coast, man it’s all the same
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| Niggas won’t know shit till they feel the flame
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| It’s still insane, since the flow track
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| Blowin your whole back, with the mack, we’ll let ya know black
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| It’s all about weight, work, guns, yay
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| Real motherfuckers chase dough and don’t play
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| Y’all motherfuckers don’t move, we don’t spray
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| Big Pun, Fat Joe, Mack 10 baby
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| Check what you never thought
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| Pun and Joe, the kings of Nueva York
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| Spittin thoughts with twin, Mack 10 the chicken hawk
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| We the truest cuz killers walk in muddy boots
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| Once my dogs cut me lose, that’s a bullet in your bubblygoose
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| Fuck is you talkin like you crazy
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| Barkin like you eighty
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| Or have you crawlin, walkin like a baby
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| Don’t try to play me cuz I’m not a playa
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| Hey yo I shot the place up and pass the heat off like a hot potatoe
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| I’m out to make a million dollies but still I’m rowdy
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| So I hope it happen rappin before I have to kill somebody
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| That’s how it is in the stone jungle
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| If you known to own a bundle guaranteed nigga gon mug you
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| And no one love you when you broke as shit, focus kid
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| Commercials don’t lie, thirsty to die? |
| Coke is in Blow your life away, that’s a big price to pay
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| You coulda been teachin your kid how to ride his bike today
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| I hit the la la, and grab the ya ya And if y’all don’t get him, I promise I’ll try
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| Hoo Bangin affiliates is the williest so the silliest
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| Really get to see just how fast the nine milly spit
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| Mack 10, Big Pun and Joey Crack
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| Real niggas push big weight and big sacks
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| Y’all said it was cool, I got to ok this
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| I usually want paytons, y’all bring the scale so we can weight this
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| It better be pure, hope you ain’t got a birdie mix
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| Hey yo, put it up there, and make sure it’s all 36
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| I hope you can count nigga, better be precise
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| If it ain’t all there that’s your dope and your life
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| From the school of hard knocks, Inglewood to the Bronx
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| We hit the blocks and cook the rocks in forty blocks
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| Hit doja like we supposed to, sippin on Hen
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| TS and Mack 10, so let the games begin |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Let The Games Begin , by - Mack 10. Song from the album The Recipe, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп