McGruff

McGruff - What Part of the Game lyrics

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[Panama P.I.]

I'm the greatest rapper in the world, you who tryin to kid man

I will slam dunk on your big man

Been rappin for years, crackin them bears, the sound of platinum chairs

Predict future cash and it's near, my speech is dittly

I bust shots until the heat gets heavy

Fuck bitches until the sheets get sweaty

Beats and melodies, will make me blink

I'll pull my shank out, and give a warrior's cry

If you ain't down wit my crew, all you die

You can tell I'm real, by lookin in the ball of my eye

I will get some cream from it, one day, your baby and my baby

Can my some dough on Teem Summit

Countin the loot, fountain the youth, the young God

Here's the inside thug, like a Marmashad

Some wanna have emotions and kill me

Put the toast to my kidney, when I speak most of them feel me

So, keep my name off ya breath

'Fore my nigga Gruff take the chain off ya chest

All guaranteeing, blaow, take the brain off ya neck

Off the top of the dough, one shot and you'll blow

Fuckin wit Panama P.I., guarantee I'll take ya outta ya zone



[Cam'Ron]

Aiyo me and my nigga Hais, ride, lay loose

Case ya try to play Zeus, got the tray deuce

Hidin right inside the bubble, face goose

Not to quickly to make to make news

I'ma ace deuce, caught cases, I got Gotti and O.J. juice

And my crew, you're very stackless, very cock now

Phase of every Rocky, turn your caviar ass into, um

Chicken teriyaki, Spanish nigga try to front on me

I say papi Rocky, wish he would of shot me

Cuz I don't care if he frail or cock D.

When I got the glock, B, can't stop me

And no judicial system could affix me, try to lock me

Over papes on mine, Mr. D.A., someone to lace ya dime

And tell P.H. that the camera job, come on, that's a waste of mine

Cuz I got my girl Curry, live in D.C.

Work the spring court, you know for me, that just scary

How Harlem nigga do, get in the building bitch hurry

Before my girl see, back to top, so she can give me one on jury

Says hung, got her sprung, she fell that I'm young

Her little toy boy, make her lick my ass wit a tongue

She's so smart, she's dumb, but I keep, tomorrow ain't promised

Now I might need a one way flight to St. Thomas

And at the same time I got a JAG fetish

And who knows, I might have bad credit

I can't borrow from niggas I ass betted

Go to your girl, I pop my truck faster

Don't make me Flex on you ghetto style like Funkmaster



[Chorus: Panama P.I.]

You got money, what it look like?

You got crack, what it cook like?

You got a song, wit the hook like?

Word is bond, when P.I. hit the microphone, niggas took mics

You got crack, what it cook like?

You got a song, wit the hook like?

You got some money, what it look like?

What part of the game is that?

You fuck around wit my track, blaow, part of the flaming stat



[I-Born]

I live the God knowledge, my book of life, he read like twice

Five percent shine, today the grease like, my attribute's like

Paretic chrome, I thrown, throw it at your dome, blown

It be known, like Sa Salasi clone, connect wit one zone

Cybernetic, verbal buck slang, king ebonic

Nickname Farad, all of ya dude, rock me Muhammad

I came swift, wit off as the shit, they couldn't catch it

Define this, got drawn so swift, couldn't detect it

Thug covert, sip Scotch drink, just like an Irish

Move like the infamous full blown antivirus

Apollus, mad Olympic, fragile fitness

Supreme gymnast, ancient decent, homey scriptures

Equilibrium, catch me at the Wimbledon, thug gentlemen

Guess jeans, Wu shirts, construction Timberland

You're nobody wit nothing and your name shall be Nathan

Who you facin, slugs blazin the amazin



[McGruff]

Aiyo check it, I used to live reckless

Snatch kids necklace, nigga respect this

A nigga catch this, blaow, trigga specialist

Is your death wish, leave you rib and chestless

Gun ho, real life thug, every one know

From the Bumjo, to the kids, to Colombo

My niggas locked down doin state, did you rumble?

Twenty five to L, on the humble, real thug shit

Plug shit, catch you, wouldn't dare fuck wit

Care rugged, from the skulls down to the Timb's

Surroundin your Benz, wit niggas houndin your gems

Yo pump this jam in your joint

All my thug niggas cruisin wit the mamas on points

City wise guys, gritty high guys, pretty mamas

I even make boricua, shake the titty tatas

Harlem World slugger, watch it explode like Pearl Harbor

Screw ma, get a girl's Vodka

And get them hotter, slide 'em off, twist 'em proper

Yo I'm a sex fiend, fuckin in my 400 hundred Lex' ring

Flex cream, presidential rolly wit Gets gleam



[Chorus 2X]
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Composer: ?

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Language: English

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