Get Chopped - The Click

Game must be focused upon

Game

If you ain’t got game you ain’t got nathin'

(What you say)

If you ain’t got game you ain’t got nathin'

Game (Then spit it)

A nigga spent his last quadruple of cash

Hopin’that the plane wouldn’t crash

Out smarted the task while teachin’they ass

Bouts the other side of the grass

Uh, I spits the truth from the soil untold

See 340 in ya pager, that’s the code

Hit me back cause you know he’s busy off the hook

Plus the hurricane ethyl got him too took

Drug instaces, penitentiary chances

Circumstances, gigantic ass live enhancements

Keep on mashin’though, don’t quit

Game Related, comin’from the fuckin’Click

Now that I made the major leagues

Pushin’big ki’s

Niggas from my block ain’t tryin’to see me I came up too fast for them punks hoes

Now them fools wants to kick in my door

Bringin’over the change if you think that you can fuck with this

Bam, pops to the dome bitch

Motherfuckers hate to see a true nigga flamboast

Bringin’in more net than gross

They wants to kick in my spot

Boom get chopped

They wanna take me for what I got

Boom get chopped

They wants to strike through my block

Boom get chopped

But I’m up on they plot

Boom get chopped

Bitch, feelin’evil like Knievel lookin’for a wrench

Gotta a couple screws loose like the grinch

Problem child ain’t got no problem with disposin'

Lose me temper, lose me cool but on the same token

He ain’t gon’bust a grip, man that nigga E-40 fakin'

You failized I have ya whole family wear and taken

Paper hatin’haters get put in they place

Crevice achin’baggers get smacked in the face

Niggas from the other side of town be talkin’big shit

Actin’like they wanna fuck with my click

But the shit ain’t changed fuck the rap game

Hillside nigga on a mission to proclaim

My motherfuckin’spot in society

Southside niggas just jealous, they doubt me Punk niggas lookin’for a reason

Kick off a rucus to start the funk season

I fucks with ya, ya bitch

Nigga get rich, fool don’t you know this the click

Be the hundred SL’s what a nigga straight smash

One hundred thousand in cash

Follow the leader

Trip on how this thing gets deeper

The more I teach 'em the dumber I get

Dizzy-izzy, hey Shot these tardy niggas kill me But what they don’t know is I fly cerebral cortex like a frisbee

Fuck 'em and feed 'em

Pistol whip they ass and bleed 'em

Stuck 'em and read 'em

Find out where they snooze and sleep 'em

You pearl tongues need to stop workin’for the cops

Rot-heads don’t get no props, BEOTCH!