| (Paris) | |
| Still in this bitch, ninety-eight is just another year | |
| I murder money drama bitches, that fall in piers | |
| Comin out the city where no pity be a way of life | |
| When niggaz quick to bust a cap in you to earn they stripes | |
| Ain't nothin changed in these West coast killin fields | |
| I seen so many homies die that I ain't got no feeling | |
| So I handles mine, pack a strap and keep on strivin | |
| And quick to let these niggaz if it get down to violent | |
| Cause these haters ain't no friends to me, they make it plain | |
| But I refuse to be a victim of these ghetto games | |
| Break away from all the stress, bullshit and aggravation | |
| And now I'm quick to blast if you want a confrontation | |
| But it seem like every time I turn around it's drama | |
| Hella flowers, coffee drinkin, and cryin momma | |
| Somethin tellin me this madness ain't gon' never stop | |
| So I keep strivin fo' the top | |
| (Chorus) | |
| Now everything you think you seein might not be the truth | |
| Understand these cowards fold when these niggaz shoot | |
| Understand this rap shit is just another way | |
| Just another lick where motherfuckers gettin paid | |
| It really ain't the same as it was in the past | |
| Back when shit was new, niggaz thought that it would last | |
| Understand this rap game is just another front | |
| Just another way for motherfuckers comin up, and it's like that | |
| (Paris) | |
| So what's the ticket out the ghetto for these young players | |
| Slangin dope, playin ball or bein rhymesayers | |
| They want the money fast, FUCK SCHOOL, that ain't what's happenin | |
| So some of them niggaz got together and they started rappin | |
| And it would be like who the tightest on the microphone | |
| Makin demos in the basement of they momma's home | |
| And 'fore you know it niggaz got theyself a record deal | |
| And now they makin money, doin what they love for real | |
| Limosines, fast cash, and autographs | |
| Groupie hoes after every show be workin the staff | |
| And magazines givin love cause they shit is best | |
| Unless of course it's The Source and you from the West | |
| Now momma's braggin cause they baby's on the television | |
| And they livin every day, like it's Thanksgiving | |
| But you know, what they say if it sound too good | |
| to be true it probably is that's the music biz | |
| (Chorus) | |
| (Paris) | |
| I'm 28 and I've been in the game since '86 | |
| World tours, cash money, and hella hits | |
| Done seen these rap stars disappear like civil rights | |
| And go from po' to rich to po' again, overnight | |
| So many perils in this game if yo' team is faulty | |
| That's why my lawyer keep these motherfuckin devils off me | |
| And freak bitches be, quick to set you up by playin | |
| that pussy game like, you the daddy or you rapin | |
| See dumb niggaz get they money took, tryin to be | |
| that motherfucker on the television out with Robin Leach | |
| A couple of cars, hella clothes, and before you know it | |
| That nigga to' back, hella broke with nuttin showin | |
| So here's a little game from a homey that's still playin | |
| The mo' shit you see a nigga with, the mo' he payin | |
| In this rap life, nuttin what it seem to be | |
| I hope you motherfuckers feel me, that's reality | |
| (Chorus) - 2X |
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