Lyrics About This Game - Swifty McVay

About This Game

Just be careful what you asking for before you pray
You have no clue what you be headin' for;
this ain’t a game
All my life, not knowing which way to go
But I became the man I am
From learning what I know about this game
Game done changed
I don’t bang like I used to
Shots ring, slugs go through you like Metamucil
You’re just a poodle in the ring with a dragon
I spit fire;
sipping kerosene
And laughing at these Dr. Seuss rappers
They’re making me miserable
With horrible punchlines
And can’t-connect syllables
I was a little man
Rippin' up niggas in elementary
While others was playin'
I was staring in them notebooks, praying
And putting in order
Taping videos on VHS recorders
They couldn’t ignore us
I’m getting this regardless
Bogarting, I weigh in like a Spartan
Lyrical marksman
Heart made of steel
Quick to blow up like Howie Mandel
«What a deal,» or no deal…
It didn’t matter, I still was gonna rise
To the top of this buildin'
That’s for real!
Ha!
Tape recorders to reel the reels
And that was great
I graduated from 8-Dash to D-88's
Now we in the age of the Pro Tool phase
And everybody & their mama think they got game
They hang with niggas
They can’t tell 'em they ain’t dope
They’re scared they gon' hurt their feelings, and in the same note
Let 'em do a show- step on stage
And when the little niggas froze
All you’d see is tomatoes (Ha!)
Imma make sure that they know
This ain’t a game, yo!
Water your passion, let it grow, then flamethrow
When kids was outside, I decided to stay home
Writing to get tighter
Sold dope at night
And then I counted my bankroll
But never did get rich
I ate lobster and shrimp, and copped me some new kicks
But as far as this music, it ruled everything
Like C.R.E.A.M did Wu-Tang
I learned some new things!
(What!)
I paid my dues twice, and I ain’t lying
That’s one in the hood and the other after I signed
Now I’m fine and steadily flyin'
Jets that hold 12 passengers at a time
I’ve traveled this whole world, but fuck Vietnam
If I wanted to get bombed
I’d go back home…
The neighborhood change when a nigga get on
They looking at you strange when you don’t give 'em something
But soon as you do, it becomes a habit
Then they askin' you every day
You don’t know these bastards (What!)
These hood rats throwin' you pussy like Mike Jackson
If you hadn’t signed, none of this shit would’ve happened
Niggas running up to you
Rapping like «Sign me!»
Grimey niggas trying to come onto your dime piece
They out they mind!
They keep bugging you;
it’s stress and
Instead of learning lessons, they’re painting perceptions
They’re always commanding, never understanding
I’m hearing rumors how they wanna hold me ransom
The hood check you and try to see if you’re still real
And take you in an after-hours, just like Proof (Shit!)
They’ll set you up, tryin' to murk you in a place
They lie on you when police won’t solve the case
This is what you chased your whole life to do
In the city where nobody gives a fuck about you!
And it’s true!