Roots (The) - Game Theory текст песни

This is a game

I'm your specimen

This is a game

I'm your specimen

This is a game

I'm your specimen

This is a game

I'm your specimen



You've got to let me know, baby

So I can go, I'd have to fake it

I could not make it

You could not take it



Yeah, where I'ma start it at, look I'ma part of that

Downtown Philly, where it's realer than a heart attack

It wasn't really that ill until the start of crack

Now it's a body caught every night on the Almanac

Rock bottom where them cops gotta problem at

Where them outsiders getting popped for they wallet at

I had nothin' but I made somethin outta' that

Now I'm the first out the limo like Charlie Mack

From 215, it's him, the livest one

And he representin' Philly to the fullest

Black's the realest

You can't touch him, and not for nothin'

If you 'bout hip hop, then you gots to love it

If not, then fuck it, I'm still handlin'

Smokin' more reefer than Redman and them

Damagin' MC's, and my name Rick Gees, you endangered species

For what I do, I'm about to up the fees

I'm paper-chase motivated, I ain't the one to play with

These cats get set ablaze

You can't have it y'all way, but I'd rather parlay

Just smoke OG and get cabbage all day

The way Thought play causes your main thing to say

Your style so splendid, you 'bout your business

You arousing my interests

You sharper than a shogun

You know the way it go, huh

Game, know what I'm talking 'bout?



Hus', that's short for hustlers

We Black Inc. Raw Life Productions

Tryin' to find our spots amongst the ruckus

And be sucker free, flea chumps and busters

Man, yeah

Get 'em, hus'

Get 'em, hus'

Get 'em, hus'



Hey yo, I'm tryin to get it at any cost, so it's no remorse

When I'm blastin' off like you been askin' for it

When Black step in the doors, all hats is off

Your hands up in the air goin' back and forth

I'm about ready for a classic massacre

I'll make it hotter than when Shaft in Africa

Jump outta' a black Porsche, huffin' a fat cigar

Night ridin' on 'em like my last name Hasselhoff

Voted unlikely to succeed 'cause my class was full

Of naysayers, cheaters and thieves

All it gave me was a good enough reason to leave

And put the writing on the wall for y'all to read it and weep

'Cause I'm the force of the Lord, the rage of hell

You'd rather head for the hills and save yourselves

My man rip drums like he ringin' the bells

The king of the realm, you seen him do his thing in a film

Come on



Hus', that's short for hustlers

We Black Inc. Raw Life Productions

Tryin' to find our spots amongst the ruckus

And be sucker free, flea chumps and busters

Man, yeah

Get 'em, hus'

Get 'em, hus'

Get 'em, hus'



Dreams when M16's with infrared beams

Blowin' up presidents' cribs with cans of kerosene

Hijack the limousine with a strategic routine

Then blast my enemies, head for the Caribbeans

Militant guerilla camp is ready for war

Lay your corner face down, place down your jewels, cash, and four four

When I score, prepare for torture

Fuck around and make your town Warsaw

I'm from Illadel, the land where the killas dwell

My technique is to ambush you guerilla style

My instinct is of a killer whale, bang you up from head to toe

With lyrics I pack like a nine millimal

My types subliminal mentality switched to criminal

Importing heroin internash from Senegal

A soldier takes a stripes from a general

Used the mike of iron or lead

You choose your mineral



This is a game

And I'm your specimen

You've got to let me know, baby

So I can go, I'd have to fake it