A little bit of game is all it takes A little bit of game goes a long long way [Verse 1] Cuddie I don't sleep much, 'cause when I close my eyes I hear cries from my potna's who lost they lives Visions of bloody brutality's reality Gotta stay focused and hope it don't affect my salary Them calories, they keep my pockets fat, I got to stack a grip Try not to trip, and keep them gold diggers off my dick I'm gettin' sick 'cause I drink 24-7 The way I'm livin' now, if I die, there's no heaven Gotta help my potnas in the pen 'cause they livin' broke This ain't no joke, on parole and I can't smoke No sticky indo, roll down the window ' Cause if I breathe[? ] the task is back [? ] like Nintendo Gotta play the game like a professional If you ain't having money I got to let you go I need to let you know the rules before you [? ] Rule number one potna, never should you pimpatrate I spit this pimpin' straight and cut no addatives Just nouns and adjectives, how mad you get don't mattter bitch I'm a player so I serve the game Maintain campaign, and have thangs [Chorus x2] [Verse 2] Back in '92 I was drowned in them big cases But now it's '97 and I'm counting them big faces I switched places with them sardines and squares The [? ] fillet mignon, and garlic bread A hard head, big heart, and gorilla nuts Got me mobbin' thru the bay like I don't give a fuck I'm whipped, equipped, and stay dipped in butter sauce Pill if shes real, no scrill I cut her off ' Cause fine ass bitches with the empty bank book Is worse than them ugly muthafuckas who can't cook My game cooked for five years in the feds Now it's time for these game hungry niggas to get fed I get bread, so them suckas down me Smile in my face but clown me when they not around me Talk down on my every move, but I could'ntgive a damn Playas do what they want, and suckas do what they can [Chorus x2] [Verse 3] 7-5-70, my DOB, uhh And I've been breakin' hoes since '83, what? Money makers manual, handle my business discretly Don't give my home phone number out, beep me ' Cause ain't no tellin' who be tellin', or who they tell And plus I heard that they be sellin' kinfolk the yayo Boy get your mail, don't act like your lil sista If you lackin' in this mackin' boy I bet you fist her Get some get right as I come tight to this Doo Doo Dumb Track, that cat K-Lou, knew how to come With Mac Dre, that 3 C veteran More game than March Madness, and dope as exederin Hit big licks, wouldn't pull no small capers I'm a be a dog and stay up like wall paper Look at these break bitches like they stank Collect my bank and stay sharp as a shank [Chorus]